The carriage carrying Freya and Louis finally came to a halt before the grand palace of Avon, its arrival was in the early morning hours. Most of the servants were still sleeping. Louis stepped down from the carriage, assisted by the guards who had accompanied them. As they unloaded the luggage, Louis kept a watchful eye on his daughter, concern etched on his face.

Since her emotional outburst inside the carriage, Freya had remained withdrawn, not uttering a single word. She had declined food and drink during their brief stops, the girl was really troubled.

"I’ll take your things inside ," Louis said gently, though Freya remained silent. He knew she’d heard him.

Freya stepped down from the carriage, her puffed-up face evident of her tears. She smoothed her dress, gently patting her hair into place before entering the palace.

The first to greet her was Madame Rosalie, rubbing sleep from her eyes. "Freya! You’re back! When did you arrive? We didn’t receive a letter. And your father? Rowan?" Madame Rosalie’s questions tumbled out at the same time.

As she drew closer, her gaze fell upon Freya’s swollen eyes. Her expression shifted to concern, and she took a step back. "What happened? Did they mistreat you in Eridor?"

Freya’s lips trembled. Madame Rosalie’s questions, though well-intentioned, threatened to make her start crying. Tears welled up again, and Freya struggled to contain them.

"Madame Rosalie, I...I," Freya stammered, her voice cracking. "Madame Rosalie, I-" Freya’s words dissolved into sobs, tears streaming down her face uncontrollably. She attempted to cover her face, but it was too late.

"Freya, what’s wrong?" Madame Rosalie’s voice was laced with alarm, but before she could finish, Freya flung herself into the older woman’s arms.

Madame Rosalie enveloped Freya in a warm, comforting hug as the younger woman’s body shook with convulsive sobs. Exhaustion and emotion overwhelmed Freya, her tears soaking Madame Rosalie’s shoulder.

"Hush, child," Madame Rosalie whispered, stroking Freya’s hair. "You’re safe now. Let it all out." Her gentle words only seemed to unleash more tears, and Freya clung to her, pouring out her anguish.

"It’s okay, you’re home now...it’s okay..." Madame Rosalie soothed, holding Freya tightly to her chest. This was a side of Freya she had never seen before, vulnerable and shattered. Madame Rosalie’s curiosity grew; what could have happened in Eridor to reduce the strong-willed Freya to this state?

As they stood at the palace entrance, Oriana stepped out, rubbing her swollen belly. She was taken aback by the sight of Madame Rosalie embracing someone. As she drew closer, her eyes widened in surprise.

"Freya?" Oriana’s voice was laced with concern. "You’re back...why are you crying? Did someone harm you?"

Oriana’s hands cradled her own belly. She hastened to join the duo, her eyes fixed on Freya’s tear-stained face. Madame Rosalie’s gaze met Oriana’s, and they exchanged a worried glance.

Freya’s tears slowed as she heard Oriana’s voice. She sniffled, attempting to compose herself, and bowed her head slightly. "Your Majesty."

Oriana nodded graciously, her eyes filled with concern. She turned to Madame Rosalie, seeking an explanation, but the older woman shook her head.

"I just saw her walking in as I was coming out," Madame Rosalie clarified, her gaze drifting back to Freya’s fragile form.

Freya wiped her tears with the back of her hand, knowing she couldn’t avoid keeping a secret what had happened between her and Rowan back at Eridor. These two women were not just her friend but also family now.

"Did they bully you? Do we need to get on a horse and go to Eridor immediately?" Oriana asked with firm, serious voice.

Madame Rosalie’s gaze drifted to Oriana’s swollen belly, her eyes narrowing. Oriana followed her gaze, raising an eyebrow. "What?"

Madame Rosalie hesitated, "I was just thinking...about you riding a horse...in your condition." She gestured to Oriana’s bump, her expression thoughtful. "We both know you can’t ride now, and certainly not while carrying the heir. I’d like to ensure my position in the palace remains secure."

A laugh escaped Freya’s lips, and she couldn’t believe it. She’d thought she was too sad to cry.

"Oh, look, the crying little sister is laughing!" Oriana exclaimed, a grin spreading across her face. "Are you imagining me on a horse with this belly?"

Freya shook her head, still chuckling. "No...no...I just..." Tears filled her eyes as she laughed, a mix of emotions swirling inside her.

In this moment, Freya realized that everything was still the same as when she left Avon, the casual banter, the teasing, the laughter. But she was the one who had changed. The experiences she had endured in Eridor had left their mark, and she was no longer the same innocent person who had departed Avon.

Oriana’s hand on Freya’s shoulder was warm and comforting. "Now, that’s the smile we’ve been waiting for. No more tears."

Madame Rosalie nodded in agreement. "We’ve missed you dearly, Freya. And after your declaration about being with a thief..."

Oriana chuckled, rubbing her belly. "I won’t have my child’s godmother married to a thief. It’s not exactly the most respectable reputation."

Freya’s sniffles turned into a bright smile. "What if the thief is devilishly handsome?" she asked, a mischievous glint in her eye.

Oriana playfully rolled her eyes. "I suppose we’ll have to meet this handsome thief and judge for ourselves. Well...we can discuss that later," she whispered, turning to Madame Rosalie, who had fallen suspiciously silent.

"Why are you not saying anything?" Oriana asked, noticing Madame Rosalie’s unusual quietness.

Madame Rosalie’s eyes narrowed, her voice laced with mock offense. "I feel betrayed. Why is Freya your child’s godmother? I’ve been by your side all this time, what am I?"

Freya’s feet stomped impatiently. "Don’t you know why?" she asked, her voice rising. She lifted her dress, revealing the scar where the arrow had pierced her. "I took this for the mother, I earned it."

Madame Rosalie’s chuckle filled the air as she flipped her hair to the side. "You’re talking about that right now. Right?" She clapped her hands together, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Let’s talk about her initial arrival in Demi-monde. I protected her, didn’t breathe a word about her...ahem...serving there."

Oriana interjected, "I didn’t serve anyone, I only threatened them." She corrected, attempting to set the record straight.

Madame Rosalie waved her hands dismissively, "Semantics, my dear. The fact remains, she was there, and I shielded her from prying eyes and wagging tongues." Her voice dripped with amusement, "And that, my friends, is the true mark of friendship."

"I was beside her, and we talked about stars...we’re almost like star sisters." The other two women turned to her, and Freya pressed her lips trying to stop herself from laughing. "Okay, that sounded better in my head."

Madame Rosalie snorted. "What about me? Do you know what it means to chase after a horse, trying to announce the news of Nicholas’s tyranny?"

Oriana attempted to intervene, her voice soft. "Ladies..." But Freya and Madame Rosalie ignored her, their banter escalating.

"Freya, it seems you learned how to talk while in Eridor. Was that why you were-" Madame Rosalie started, but Oriana’s cry cut her off.

"Ladies!" Oriana’s voice rose, laced with pain. And then, her water broke.

Freya clapped her hands excitedly. "The child chose to arrive on my return! Who’s the godmother now?" The three women laughed, surrounding Oriana as they helped her walk into the palace, gently rubbing her back.

"Welcome home, Freya," Madame Rosalie said, beaming with a warm smile.

Oriana nodded, wincing in discomfort. "Welc-" She paused, her face contorting in pain. "Get me Adric, now!" she shouted, her voice echoing through the halls.