Night arrived and I accompanied Freyja before her departure. We walked side by side.
When we reached the carriage, she turned to face me.
"I do hope you will fulfill my request, Loki," she said quite expectantly.
Her obsession with that woman's death hadn't wavered. The idea weighed heavily on me—a woman marked for death without any clear reason. Yet, I had to do it for my mother.
"I have a certain wish…" I replied, keeping my words intentionally vague.
Her lips curved into a knowing smile. "I can see it written all over your face. You're hiding something from me."
I met her gaze, expecting anger or suspicion, but there was none. Freyja regarded me with the same unshaken confidence she always had, as if I could never truly harm her.
"I will grant you any wish you desire," she continued, her voice taking on a playful lilt, "except perhaps the privilege of sharing my bed, of course."
I grimaced instantly.
