Her Graceful War Song by Summer's Blaze

Chapter 302

Margaret's words left Helen feeling both proud and a bit guilty.

Helen had deliberately not invited Carissa today to give the latter a hard time, but Carissa didn't seem to mind at all. Instead, she even sent a masterpiece from her guild senior as a gift. This made Helen realize that Carissa not only knew how to conduct herself, but was also generous and magnanimous.

In comparison, Helen now felt she had been petty and narrow-minded.

Noticing the envy and jealousy in the eyes of the other concubines, Helen's opinion of Carissa improved- if only just a little. She wasn't willing to give her too much credit, after all.

Eleanor and her daughter walked over to take a look at the painting. While they were indeed impressed, since the painting wasn't theirs, they felt the need to belittle it.

Eleanor disregarded her status and past displays of good manners, and said, "Kyle is known for his orchid paintings. If she truly wanted to give you something, it should have been an orchid painting. Sending a snowy mountain painting is just perfunctory."

If anyone else had said this, it might have sparked some discontent.

But not with Helen. She responded, "I never liked orchids."

punched a pillow, and was left staring at

foolish woman know? The orchid paintings

as they finished admiring the snowy mountain painting, Luke rushed in with

hosting guests. today, she wanted to offer them for your and the ladies appreciation. If

"Really?

cultured families, with ties to literature and the arts. Some were from prominent literary families, while

aristocratic houses.

were esteemed arts, and they were eager to

rare-perhaps once in a

basking in all the glory, However, those who understood the situation knew that the real star of the day was

gracious. There wasn't a single person present who could match her magnanimity. Even though she wasn't

depicting Victory Pass. In the painting of Victory Pass, the scene was striking-a soldier stood resolutely beneath the city gate. His armor was rusted and worn, and he gripped a long spear, its tip still stained with

day, and the snow had piled up to his calves. His face was darkened, chapped lips dry, and his hair disheveled. It was likely blown by the fierce wind. His hands were blackened and skin cracked, with dirt caked under his nails. His fingers were slightly bent as he clutched the spear,

men, despite being battered by the elements, continued to stand guard at the city