Veins bulged down Truman’s arms as he closed in, eyes plastered on Freya, his whole body was taut with restraint.


    Freya lit up at the sight of him, “Yes!” Then, she read the look on his face, “It… took some effort… but… I managed.”


    Truman’s voice was low, his jaw clenched. “You must be a demon.”


    Freya’s eyebrows shot up. “What? How can you call me that when this wench is standing next to—”


    For a moment, something behind Truman’s eyes went missing. Before I could react, his sword was swinging. Freya spoke faster than I could.


    “A-A COMMONER KNIGHT CANNOT! I’m the daughte—!”


    She gasped, going utterly still.


    Chills ran through my back.


    A tense breath left Truman’s lips, the look in his eyes devoid of compassion, of humanity.


    The blade was a hair’s breadth from her neck.


    Truman’s grip tightened around the hilt. “Is that all you have to say for yourself?”


    There was something chilling about the manner Truman spoke. The question left his lips despite himself. Like he had envisioned Freya’ execution, but stopped before he could realize it. But why?


    Whatever it was, it was stronger than his mortality.


    Freya stumbled back, nearly sinking from the shock.


    Truman’s intentions were engraved into the air we breathed.


    I should be disturbed. I should. But I’m more impressed at the duality of this man…


    “I’m-” Freya paused. Her lips parted, as if scrambling for an argument.


    Then, her gaze snapped to me, who stood a step behind Sir Truman, looking as shaken as she did.


    “SHE DID IT!!” Freya shouted, pointing at me with every fiber of her soul.


    I lifted both hands up defensively.


    Her words flew over Truman’s head. Then, as if forcing himself to acknowledge them, his jaw clenched and his eyes fell shut.


    He opened them again, turning to me with an expectant look.


    Truman’s sense of fairmindedness exceeds my expectations.


    Looking back, Truman carried Freya here. So to some degree, he must have understood ‘she’ didn’t purposefully poison us. So his anger right now mustn’t be because of that.


    “I didn’t clog the entrance; everyone knows I barely have the muscles to hold up my own arms,” I said, hands still up.


    Truman thought, then discreetly agreed, turning back to Freya and closing the gap between her throat and his blade.


    Shivers travelled down my spine at the sight of it. My pulse quickened, fists... clenching...


    Wait.


    I blinked.


    Why am I panicking?


    This is… good.


    “Sir Truman, this woman has done nothing but lie and lie and lie again. She poisoned us all! She’s a monstrous wench! You cannot be fooled by her!”


    Freya was beating at the wrong door… So I might as well open it for her.


    “After I begged Sir Truman to carry you…” I stepped forward, positioning myself besides Truman. “Just so we don’t abandon you in the middle of a snowstorm… this is what I get? You try to cast your wrongdoings upon me?”


    “Do not even talk to me, you—!” Truman’s blade came in contact with Freya’s skin. His glare burned through her soul.


    “Was it an attempt to kill us?” He questioned. “Do you hold a grudge, or was it someone’s order? What do you know?”


    Surely Truman will spare her when she eventually explains herself.


    “Why…” Freya''s disbelief curled into a nervous smile as he did. “Why do you keep defending…!”


    Her eyes widened.


    The words got stuck in her mouth.


    “No way…” Freya’s accusative finger faltered. “Don’t tell me,” she frowned, outraged. “You believe her, Sir Truman?! You believe this lying, conniving—!!”


    Freya tried to reach towards me, but was reminded of the threat on her life when Truman’s hand jerked in a stiff motion. The blade grazed her neck, and had Freya not stumbled back in utter shock, her neck would’ve been…


    “I asked you a fucking question!” Truman’s shout echoed through the cave. The hairs on my arms stood.


    My gaze lingered on Truman, on the manner his body seemed to fight against his control.


    ‘She could be innocent. It could have been unintentional.’ His logic must be a variant of that.


    My gaze flickered to the giant wooden chunk blocking the exit.


    The ‘repetition’ of her blunders must be making his reasoning lose.


    I dug a hole for Freya and she ended up digging herself a grave.


    “Come now, Sir Truman. You have to believe me. B-Because… w-why the hell would I poison myse—! I’m not insane!”


    And she keeps at it.


    “… You don’t look like you were poisoned, Freya.” I said.


    Freya leaned towards me, like she was ready to launch herself at me. But instead, she clenched her fists and turned to Truman.


    “I-I have resistance to poison! My family forces it upon all of its members.” Her eyebrows came together at the sight of our doubtful expressions. “If I wanted to kill you, would I have been the first to fall ill?! Think, Sir Truman! I was unconscious for hours—you saw it!”


    “And how do we know that wasn’t an act?” I asked, expression neutral. “Poison tolerance? Are you from an assassin guild?”


    Freya’s neck snapped towards me. “How dare you accuse me of anything?” She spoke through gritted teeth. “All you’ve done since the day I met you was slither and be awful to everyone around you! Sir Truman, do not fall for her deceit!”


    Truman’s nose scrunched up, his rage became tainted in disgust.


    Freya faltered.


    “I… I understand now! Y-You must trust her b-because you’re so good-hearted, but do not! Because…” Freya swallowed, determined. “BECAUSE THIS WOMAN IS A WITCH!”


    Freya’s last card fluttered against the cave walls, echoing back to us.


    A short silence settled.


    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    “What?! Will you deny it now?!” She sneered at me. “That you’re a fallen noblewoman who used to indulge in forbidden crafts? Misleading hundreds of innocents under the lie that you’re blessed by the deity? Using forbidden magic to curse others through so-called revelations!? Even I was a victim of your tricks! Sir Truman, she admitted it herself to me the other day. Believe me when I say—!”


    “I know.”


    “Yes! She was abandoned by…” Freya’s voice faded, and so did the blame in her eyes.


    “Sir Truman and Alice know everything, Freya.” I added.


    I later told Alice about the new tactic, emphasizing how it would be better to accept this incorrect identity, since it was miles better than my real one…


    Freya stepped back from Truman’s blade, and I saw it in her eyes; shattered confidence. Betrayal.


    “You knew…?” Her voice was weak.


    A twinge of guilt began to stir at my heart.


    “So, did you shut the entrance or not?” I nudged.


    Suddenly, a tightness squeezed my chest. My sight went blurry, then came clear again.


    The poison was catching up. What a pain.


    “I…” Freya’s breaths came in shallow heaps, her head was lowered and her fists clenched. “The soup… I…”


    “Enough,” Truman’s grip tightened around the hilt of his sword. Shaking his head in exasperated disgust. “Enough.”


    The tone of Truman’s voice was chilling. Gone was his restrained anger, all I heard as my eyes widened in realization was… resolve.


    I could hear it in his breathless motion, the small shift in his stance.


    A decision made, a movement already in motion. My gaze sharpened as I glimpsed his sword tilting, the point drifting toward Freya’s exposed throat, smooth, deliberate.


    He cannot kill her.


    “Don’t.” I commanded.


    Truman’s hand twitched, his glance flickered toward me—the slightest hesitation, but it was enough.


    “Dame Freya is innocent!” A weak voice resonated from within the cave, making all of us freeze.


    Truman turned slightly to eye Alice, his posture unchanged.


    Alice looked almost as pale as a corpse. She seemed able to stand, yet, she pressed forward, leaning heavily on the wall.


    Truman turned back to Freya, who looked devoid of life, almost as pale as Alice. Her gaze stuck on the blade that dug into her throat, making a light blister on her skin. It bled.


    Truman stated in a low tone, “This woman has attempted to kill us twice.”


    Her voice trembled, thinner than usual. “She didn’t… not to kill us.”


    I wanted to roll my eyes at Alice trusting Freya again, but my relief from the stress I went through thinking shit went off the rails just now was higher, so I opened my mouth to second her.


    But instead of words, I felt a lump of liquid climb up my throat.


    A metallic taste in my mouth.


    I discreetly turned away and coughed into my palm.


    Blood.


    Disgusting. Not good.


    I hid my palm before I could form a proper thought.


    “She… must have put it in… by accident,” Alice said.


    Truman shook his head at Freya, unmoved. His gaze pierced Freya’s and his grip tightened once more.


    “There’s also the fact that,” I stepped closer to Freya. “Ki… Harming Freya here and now would be… well, inconvenient. It would further diminish our chance of survival.”


    Freya might be a pain in the ass, but she’s useful. And I can’t let her die because of me, I’m not a monster.


    Truman’s gaze lingered on me. He let out a breath through his nose, clenched his fist around the handle one last time before lowering his sword. His gaze still pierced hers with all the threat of a predator.


    I don’t know how else to describe it, anyway.


    A tear of blood slid down the wound on Freya’s neck. Her eyes were still wide, unblinking from the shock.


    I threw a look back at Alice, a relieved feeling creeping up on me. “Am I right, Ali?”


    A shaky breath. Dilated pupils. A stagger.


    My smile faded.


    She’s about to pass out.


    “It’s unwise… to fight—” Alice swayed, her grip on the wall weakened, and her eyelids fell shut.


    Before I could think, I had joined her, reaching out to catch her arms. I swiftly prevented her fall and possible injury.


    “Ali,” I muttered, tapping her cheek. “Alice?”


    Her skin was cold, clammy.


    Bracing her against myself, I called for Truman and Freya.


    “We need to lay her down.”


    ~


    Alice was back to sleep. Her pallor had lessened, after I applied some medical care and had her drink the last of my water.


    I sat by her side, both knees on the ground while she laid on whatever fabrics we had.


    I was honestly at a loss as to what to do, exactly.


    Sure, I know the Stemley isn’t deadly, and I have the antidote. But I didn’t expect these two to be hawk eyeing me like this behind my back!


    I slowly took off my coat, which I was able to do thanks to the warmth of the Emberite, turned it into a ball and put it under Alice’s feet, in some lousy attempt to promote her blood circulation.


    The blazer I wore was airy, which was a nice change for the injury on my back. I glanced back at Alice, my jaw clenching momentarily.


    It made sense that Alice was the only one heavily affected by the poisoning, since Freya and Truman had rigged the immunity game, and I had taken the antidote right after eating the soup.


    Speaking of which, I still feel like shit. I was definitely faring better than Alice, but was eating the stem of the mushroom not the way to take the medicine…?


    I shook my head, determining to leave this issue for a later time.


    “I agree with Alice, Sir Truman.” I turned to the two with a serious look. “I don’t think this idiot would have poisoned us all, including herself, knowingly. She has nothing to gain from it. And we have nothing to gain from murdering her right now. If anything, it’d be less body heat, more trauma and a stench we don’t want.” I shrugged.


    Truman seemed to think about my words, looked at the ground beneath his crossed legs.


    “I dislike being this passive,” He admitted in almost a whisper. “I can hear your heartbeat. You haven’t recovered from the poison either. At this rate, you might collapse.” He looked up at me, his gaze darkening. “But Freya’s heart is completely fine.”


    I turned to Freya, who was cross-legged too, leaning forward, with her face in her palms.


    The warmth touching my neck was a strange change, making me unconsciously run a hand over it, sensing the thin line on it. It scarred.


    “Say something for yourself, Freya Hughes.” I ordered.


    Freya flinched at the sound of her full name. She looked up with a flash.


    “I swear I did not do it!” She straightened. “Sir Truman, why would I poison you and miss Alice?”


    “You tell me,” Truman said.


    Freya takes a breath in, then out, like she was calming herself down. Her fingers tapped against her knees. “This reminds me of my childhood. Damn it, why did I plug the exit…”


    “Yes, please do tell us why.” I said.


    “You tell me why you’re fine first! I did see you bleed, but… look at miss Ali, then look at you!”


    Of course, I had the perfect bullshit excuse for this.


    Pressing my palms together, in the most convincing tone ever, “I have blue eyes.”


    Freya frowned, the pouted. “Right, cursed ones… Or, whatever the new name was... You must have better healing capabilities than Ali.”


    Freya fidgeted for a couple of seconds, and then with a hesitant look, she spoke. “Even though I cannot comprehend why we are not the least bit suspicious of this witch,” Her breaths were heavy, pointing to me. “I just… since I was the one who cooked… then, perhaps, I may have unknowingly foraged the wrong mushroom and thrown it in.” She said the words like they were a burden on her shoulders. “That is the only possibility, unless-” She shot me a glare as I watched with a half suspicious, half satisfied gaze.


    “That makes sense,” I nodded.


    I don’t feel bad. Freya was a bitch to me this whole time. She just paid back in full.


    I shook my head, as if to shake off the twinge of guilt tugging at my heart.


    I shouldn’t feel bad.


    “I don’t like this,” Truman mumbled, making me turn to him.


    I waited for him to elaborate.


    But he simply sighed. “But isn’t as though we could chop her up and use her limbs as firewood, since she plugged the entrance.” His shoulders slumped.


    My eyebrows shot up. “That’s fucked up,” I half-mumbled, nodding along to what he was saying.


    “So until the storm passes,” a hint of uneasiness in Truman’s eyes, “We must cohabitate.”


    Immediately, I turned to Freya. “Whatever Truman said last.”


    Freya nodded in reluctant agreement.


    I shook my head again.


    … Okay, maybe I did feel a little bad.


    “If miss Ali dies, you will be held responsible. Know that,” Truman added, at last setting his sword down.


    “… I will die a rich aunt…” Alice’s weak voice rose besides me. I turned to her, the antidote in my pocket practically burning against me.


    No. Not yet. I need to be alone with her.


    “What did she say?” Freya asked.


    I waved a dismissive hand. “She has a fever.”