A flicker of understanding crossed Raymond’s face, and he let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Ah… Freya. Is she out there?"

Emilia’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, she is. Your arranged mate.” She couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice, couldn’t hide the hurt that lingered beneath her words. “Were you planning to tell me about this?”

Raymond frowned, caught off guard by her tone. He raised an eyebrow, his gaze flickering with confusion. “Tell you about… Freya?”

“Yes, Freya,” she snapped. “Your arranged mate.”

Raymond’s expression darkened, but he didn’t look away. “I was going to… eventually. But it’s complicated, Miley.”

“Complicated?” she echoed, her voice...