Provoking a Graceful Bloom Novel

---- Chapter 154 They had been trapped in that nameless valley for more than a day. On the night Freya had driven Brad to his death, she had urged Frederick onward, insisting they must press forward until every bandit was dead. In truth, they didn't know where the enemy held their strongholds. Before long, they came upon enemies and gave chase. But the more they pressed on, the rougher and more treacherous the terrain became. By the time they entered a forest of jagged stones, it was as if the world itself had shifted.

The stones seemed almost alive, shifting beneath their eyes, while a thick fog began to coil and swirl. Soon, the mist swallowed all sight, blotting out the world itself. Around them, only the clash of steel and cries of battle could be heard. One by 'one, the soldiers fell in pools of blood, while the bandits remained shadows, almost invisible amidst the haze. They were trapped in that stony maze, and their losses were grievous.

At first, only a little over three thousand soldiers could be accounted for, with the rest either scattered, lost deep within the stone forest, or cut down by the bandits. ---- After that, Frederick and Freya rode among the men, personally leading repeated attempts to break free. But each time they pressed forward, massive stones rained from above to block their path, and many fell to the bandits' arrows. Now, from a force of fifteen thousand, fewer than two thousand remained. Trapped without food or water, the men were utterly dispirited, their hearts heavy with despair.

None could say whether they would live to see their families again. They had endured two days and a night of torment, and now the pallid sky above them had gone utterly black. The men felt as though Death itself were descending, and resentment boiled up like a storm. The soldier that couldn't bear it any longer pointed his blade at Freya. "Witch! You drove General Lloyd to his death and led us to this doom! Even if | must die for it, | will strike you down first!" Frederick sat at Freya's side.

An arrow had pierced his shoulder, three sword cuts marked his arm, and a saber had grazed his abdomen. By fortune, none of the wounds were deep. Otherwise, it would have been deadly. Seeing the soldier advance to strike Freya, and noticing that not aman had moved to stop him, Frederick clenched his teeth and strove to rise. ---- William was quicker. He strode before the would-be assailant, his voice ringing with command as he said, "The enemy stands before us, and you would turn your sword upon your own?" "She is no comrade of ours!" the soldier cried.

"She is a witch, a spy sent by the rebels!" From the ranks, whispers swelled into mutters. "That's true. Her father and brothers... her whole family were bandits." "The blood of bandits runs within her. She has brought ruin upon us. "Your Highness, she is of their kind. Put her to death!" "Kill her!" "Kill her!" The shouts spread like fire in dry grass, each wave louder than the last. At first, Freya had dismissed the lone soldier's accusation. But as the calls grew more fervent, a chill of dread crept into her heart.

She shrank instinctively behind Frederick, clutching at his arm, her voice barely more than a whisper. ---- "Fred..." Frederick frowned. His jaw was set, yet he gave no reply. He couldn't, as the pain robbed him of breath. "Ms. Talmar, you're pressing upon His Highness' wound!" William exclaimed, alarmed. Freya started, looking down to see her hands stained with blood. "Fred, |... | didn't mean it. | never meant to hurt you. And | am no spy, | swear. | fought at your side and helped you get rid of the last of the Talmar clan. You know this better than any man.

| am not their kind!" Earlier, she had carried herself with arrogant confidence. But now, trapped here for two days and a night without food, panic had begun to creep in. Would they truly die here?