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With the way things had ended between them, he couldn’t predict what Freya might do to survive. For all he knew, she might go to extreme lengths.
Lately, Freya had been talking about leaving the capital, but she was terrified of being ambushed outside Blessed Haven. The assassination attempt on her had shaken her deeply. She likely thought through the possibilities repeatedly and decided how to handle things in case of trouble.
Hence, Blake hadn’t told her about the Westhaven envoy. He didn’t want her preparing ahead of time.
When he arrived at Blessed Haven and saw Freya standing with her sword pressed against her neck, his chest tightened.
“Put the sword down, Freya!”
Her eyes were ice-cold, her gaze slicing through him like a blade.
She practically hissed his name, ‘Blake Jaffe!”
Alistair also arrived with two royal guards by his side, just in time to stop Blake from advancing.
“Don’t get too close.”
Blake cast a complex glance at Alistair. He knew what the man was worried about.
“Freya, go with Mr. Zellner to the Ministry of Justice,” Blake called out over Alistair’s shoulder, his tone steady but firm. ‘Don’t make this harder than it needs to be. Cooperate with the investigation. The Ministry of Justice won’t make things difficult for you.”
Freya’s eyes flashed with rage, sneering bitterly. “Don’t talk nonsense! If they won’t make things difficult for me, then why don’t they just let me stay at Valor Estate? Blake, I’ll ask you just one thing-you have no feelings left for me, right?”
Blake felt a pang of discomfort. “That’s between us. Just cooperate with the Ministry of Justice for now.”
Freya laughed coldly. “Cooperate? Fine! I want you to come here and arrest me yourself. Aren’t you the commander of the Crown Guard?”
Blake stayed still.
Freya’s fury slowly drained away, leaving only a trace of sorrow.
Her voice softened, almost mournful as she said, ‘Blake, we fought together at Victory Pass. We risked our lives together. Do you remember what you said to me when we went to Fawnrun City?”
Blake’s breath caught at her words. His eyes narrowed, and he nodded instinctively. “I remember.”
“Good.” Tears shimmered in her eyes. “I’ll go with them. I won’t drag the Jaffe family down with me. I only ask one thing-remember our past, remember the little bit of affection we once shared. Please, ask the king to let me die with dignity.”
Blake’s entire body tensed as he stood there, silent for a long while.
Finally, he nodded. “I promise you I’ll do that.”
Tears slid down the disfigured side of Freya’s face, and she smiled sadly. “Alright. Fine.”
Hearing that she was willing to go with the Ministry of Justice, everyone let out a collective breath of relief. Cyrus and Alistair noticed the solemn expression on Blake’s face, which they found only natural. After all, Freya was his wife, and the king granted them marriage due to their military merit. She mentioned the dangerous times they endured together during the war, times that no one else could truly understand. Now, as she was about to be taken away, it was clear that her trial was little more than a formality before her death.
If Blake had shown any sign of ease or indifference, it would have been an insult to her memory-he would have been worse than an animal.
With the sword still pressed to her neck, Freya slowly stepped out from Blessed Haven. The Ministry of Justice officers didn’t dare to move closer, for fear she would slit her neck if she were provoked even just a little. If that happened, she would surely die of blood loss before they could do anything.
Alistair remained vigilant and kept himself between Blake and Freya. Blake understood Alistair’s caution and respected the latter’s position, so he retreated a few steps, prompting Alistair to follow him.
Now slightly less on edge, Cyrus said, ‘Put down your sword.”
Freya moved the blade away from her neck. At that instant, everyone exhaled in relief.
But before the tension could even fully ease, Freya suddenly lunged at Cyrus. The distance between them was barely a few steps, and she moved with lightning speed.
Alistair, stunned, instinctively moved forward to push Cyrus out of harm’s way. But it was too late. As he had retreated a few steps to stay with Blake, he was too far from Cyrus to intervene in time.
The Ministry of Justice officers and the two royal guards were closer, but Freya was faster-she moved like one who had been professionally trained. By the time they reacted, her sword was only a short distance from Cyrus’ neck.
In that critical moment, a whip snapped through the air, wrapping around Freya’s hand and yanking it sharply to the right. Her sword clattered to the ground, and the officers immediately jumped on her, pinning her down.
Her face was forced into the dirt, leaving her unable to push herself up. She had no idea who had intervened, but the next thing she heard was a triumphant shout from the people around her.
“Commander Devin!”
It was then Freya realized the one who had stopped her was Sophie.
Freya was roughly dragged to her feet, her hands shackled behind her back. When she was slammed to the ground, her face scraped against the sharp stones, drawing a few thin lines of blood.
She first shot a look at Blake, her eyes filled with nothing but disappointment. Then, her gaze turned to Sophie, sharp and unrelenting. Sophie’s official uniform was everything she had ever dreamed of, yet here she was, never even having the chance to touch them, let alone wear them.
Sophie pulled the whip back and stood directly in front of Freya. The two locked eyes-one pair filled with resentment, the other brimming with unabashed hatred.
For the first time, Sophie’s hatred for Freya was unmasked. Even in front of her parents’ memory plaques, Sophie had tempered her feelings, unwilling to let the spirits of her family see her consumed by such hatred.
But now, with everything coming to a head, there was no holding back. The resentment that had festered in Sophie’s heart boiled over. Freya had destroyed her family and dragged her grandfather down with her-this grudge was something she could never forgive.
In the face of such hate, Freya’s jealousy and unwillingness to accept her fate seemed like nothing more than a pale shadow. After just a moment of meeting Sophie’s gaze, the weight of the anger was enough to crush her.
She turned her eyes away and glanced at Blake, this time genuinely seeking help, her expression pleading for mercy.
Blake’s heart twisted, caught in a turmoil of emotions. Earlier, he had purposely let Alistair stop him when in truth, it was him who had been standing in Alistair’s way.
Freya couldn’t have truly taken Blake hostage-it wouldn’t have worked, and Blake knew it. However, holding the Ministry of Justice’s deputy minister hostage would make the entire ministry’s forces step back. He understood Freya’s intentions. They had always had an unspoken understanding between them.
During their time at Victory Pass, it wasn’t just about Fawnrun City. Before that, they had fought side by side, killing enemies together. Their bond was forged in that shared danger, and it had led to moments where their hearts and minds had aligned.
Blake remembered the time when, during the mission to burn the supply depot in Fawnrun City, Freya had asked him what he would do if she found herself in mortal danger. He had answered, without hesitation, that he would risk everything to save her-even his life.
And now, when Freya had looked at him earlier, he had felt that same struggle, but his promise still held. No matter the cost, even if it meant losing his title or facing punishment, he was willing to keep that promise.
Yet, Sophie’s appearance was like a slap in the face. While he had kept his promise to Freya, why hadn’t he upheld his vows to Sophie at the start?
At that moment, Blake felt as if he was being torn apart from within.
A sharp pain in his foot brought him back to reality. He looked up to see Alistair, who had just stomped on him, face twisted with anger. Alistair had seen through Blake’s intentions.
“Wretch!” Alistair muttered under his breath.
To him, anyone who acted in a despicable manner, regardless of their gender, was a wretch.