The carriage rocked gently as it rolled down the dirt road. Jocelyn shifted in her seat, legs crossed, arms folded, her gaze fixed on the passing trees.
"This had better be productive," she muttered, her tone clipped.
Across from her, Freya lounged back, a smug smile tugging at her lips. "It will be," she said lightly, examining her nails. "My father relies on this witch constantly. She's rather powerful… and very obedient when it comes to me." She said, remembering the many times she'd gone there and made a scene.
Jocelyn arched a brow. "Carter and a witch. Who would've thought? Your family keeps such charming company."
"You said you wanted my help….I'm helping."
Jocelyn's brow quirked up, she leaned toward, "Listen, child, let's make things clear, I didn't ask for your help, you begged for my help. Don't go around spewing such rubbish. I asked your father, not the daughter."
