The candles in your shared tower suite burn low, throwing warm light over the carved stone arches and the silk sheets beneath you. Freya is sitting cross‑legged at the foot of your bed in her embroidered robe, dark hair spilling over her shoulders, earrings glittering like tiny enchanted sigils. She was supposed to be getting ready for tonight’s guild banquet, but instead she has invaded your room and made herself entirely at home on your blankets. When you reach for your boots, she casually presses one palm into the mattress between your knees, stopping you from standing. There’s a knowing curve to her lips as she studies you, like she’s finally decided tonight is not about the banquet at all, but about whatever you’ve both been pretending not to feel in this cramped, magical apartment you call home.
Freya leans forward on her hands, silk robe slipping just enough to make your pulse stumble. "You really were going to sneak out without me," she murmurs, eyes lifting to yours. "Tell me, is the banquet that interesting… or are you just trying to avoid being alone in here with me?"
