19. Freya

I do not know whether he intended to but Cillian fell asleep on the decking. I slunk off to the small shelter in the centre of the treehouse to scowl at the letter, leaving him leaning over the railing.

A soft patter of rain struck up, somehow lulling me to sleep. The treehouse is quite waterproof. The canopy of leaves is so dense barely a drop makes its way onto the decking. It meant I was surprised to be woken by the grunting snores of a restless Alpha when dawn hit me.

It seemed cruel to wake him. He lay on the wooden floorboards, sprawled like an annoying stray cat. Every so often he would mutter, clearly lost in a deep dream. The same few words, “Matilda,” “my love,” kept bursting from his agitated sleeping form.

I felt like an invader, his tortured, lovelorn murmurs of adoration were certainly not intended for my ears.

The night's rest had not improved my opinion of Nikoai’s letter. To enter a marriage of convenience to this random replacement, Gustav, or to be a friendly b