Chapter 191
- Freya‘s pov. continuation
- He turned. That impossible face—smug and solemn at once, beautiful as a sin confessed—tilted into a smile that had haunted more than one lifetime. “Freya,” he said, like the word pleased him. “You are… unchanged by time. Or changed only in ways that make songs.”
- He was the same. Twenty-five at most. Not a wrinkle, not a scar the years could claim as theirs. The valley had frozen him in amber.