Brynhild blinked, clearly lost.
She looked from Aphrodite to Vergil… and then back to Aphrodite.
"…Husband?" she repeated, unable to hide the disbelief in her voice. "What's this all about?"
Aphrodite stopped a few steps from the sofa, leaning slightly forward, as if finally noticing Brynhild with real attention. A slow, mischievous smile formed on her rosy lips.
"Oh?" She raised a perfect eyebrow. "She doesn't know."
Vergil sighed again, already resigned, bringing his drink to his lips as if preferring to watch the chaos from the sidelines.
Aphrodite took another step forward, the golden fabrics rippling around her legs like liquid light. Her eyes slid over Brynhild from head to toe—assessing, teasing.
"How cute," she commented, with feigned sweetness. "The Queen of the Valkyries doesn't know she's sitting on my husband's metaphorical lap."
