Freya sat on her windowsill, knees drawn up to her chest as she stared out into the darkened landscape beyond. Her thoughts were jumbled, guilt pressing on her from every angle. She had taken the risk of warning Emilia, knowing full well the consequences if her father found out. But she hadn’t been able to stand by and watch the plan unfold, not when lives were at stake, and especially not with Raymond’s life hanging by a thread. She’d thought she’d been careful, that deleting the message would be enough.

She hugged her knees tighter, her gaze distant as she remembered the flash of relief in Emilia’s eyes when they’d...