They walked to the dining table where Freya waited, her platinum-cyan hair catching the light, her blue eyes narrowing as they approached.
The plates were set, steam rising from the food—grilled meat, roasted vegetables, a faint spice in the air.
Freya's face was stern, her lips a tight line, but her gaze flicked between them, catching the flush on Rhea's cheeks, the smug edge to her smirk.
"The dinner looks so delicious," Kael said, sliding into the chair beside Freya, his voice light, trying to cut the tension.
"Right, Rhea?" He glanced at her, but Rhea just stared at her plate, her amber eyes suspicious, her fork hovering over the food.
"Let's dig in," Kael said, picking up his fork, but Rhea's voice cut through, sharp and accusing. "She spit in it."
Kael froze, his fork halfway to his mouth, his hazel eyes snapping to her. "What?"
Freya's gaze hardened, her voice calm but edged with irritation. "No, I didn't."
