46

Nadjela took it for granted that her worries and hopes for the future would leave her in a prolonged sleeplessness. But the accumulated weariness of a day full of activity, and the pleasure of being back in the bed of a lifetime, displaced her into a sweet, deep sleep as soon as she entered the warm furs. She rests until a firm hand grabs her arm and shakes.

"Chester...?" she murmurs as she half-opens her eyes and catches a glimpse of a manly face in the mist of sleep. The face darkens and shapes, revealing itself to be Zell.

"Your father requires you at the temple, princess"

"Now...?"

The champion nods.

Nadjela stifles a yawn with her hand. She throws on a few furs before stepping out into the cold behind Zell. The young woman is uneasy to find him with a loaded bow and quiver. Did they spot the slavers, perhaps?

"Is the tribe in danger?"

"No" Zell's answer is dry.

"Then...?"

"His father will clarify any questions he has"

They reach the top of the mountain. Zell slows down.

"You go alone. I need to check some business with my brothers-in-arms"

"Did Bironte have another accident with his substances?" Nadjela with a grimace tries to guess and assumes the worst. Zell is always serious, but that night his seriousness is deeper, even somber.

"It's Maaca... Don't worry, I bet you've already solved the problem"

"I trust it's nothing serious. Can you tell me what my father is suing me for?"

"That only the leader knows. Please don't keep him waiting"

Nadjela girded her furs to prevent them from flapping and pushing her down the ravines. She follows the narrow zigzagging path that ends forty meters higher. From the top of the mountain, the princess looks over her lands, and the forbidden lands... Which a few days ago generated only fear in her, but now also meant happy memories with the man with whom, without wanting or expecting it, she fell in love. She sighs, but her longings are drowned out by the murmur of the high wind.

The temple of contemplations lies in total darkness, a strange thing when it is usually illuminated by beast fat torches. Nadjela approaches at a leisurely pace. She does not need to cross the threshold located on one side of the structure to realize that something is wrong.

A metallic stench creeps from inside, making her stop and turn pale. He recognizes the smell, his nose tasting it even more closely during the trip. A shadow is outlined from the doorway, Neddin appears in his leader's garments and his usual stony countenance.

"And the wise men...?" asks Nadjela, her voice wavering.

"Dead" says her father as if it were a small thing. "Mercilessly killed with a sharp weapon"

"W-W-Who?!"

"Who else but the obvious culprit? The false hero killed them" Neddin clarifies.

"That's impossible! I trust Chester with my life! Who told you it was him?! Who seeks to frame him for such a dreadful crime?!"

Neddin frowns. Nadjela recognizes that gesture of discontent. The day her mother was exiled on charges of being cursed by the invisible death, Neddin wore a similar countenance, which she eventually interpreted as the anger of having to let go of a loved one against your will. Her mother had no symptoms of the curse, but why would the leader lie to them about such a delicate matter? Something similar is Nadjela's thinking now, why would her father accuse Chester of such a vile scenario?

"You share not only your mother's name, but also her stubbornness, her beauty, her powerful determination. It is only natural that you were my favorite, Nadjela. Unlike Gaita, who is a whore. Or Suri, who is an enigma"

He moves forward to touch Nadjela's cheek. But the princess takes a step back, turns away from those fingers that were unassailable to her just a short while ago. Neddin clicks his tongue.

"I loved your mother, I really did. Though there were more docile women at my disposal, I chose her, sensing that she would give me formidable heirs. Of course, as the years went by, her meddling attitude began to annoy me..."

Tears are coming from Nadjela's eyes, but not yet falling.

"What are you talking about, dad? I don't understand anything. Please, I beg you, tell me what's wrong"

A slap sends her to the floor. She scrapes her knee, and a streak of blood appears at the corner of her lips. Nadjela's big eyes look trembling at the darkened and distant countenance of her father.

"You were my favorite and you ruined everything!"

The leader takes her by the chin and pulls her, not caring that his abruptness hurts. He brings their faces closer.

"You should have died out there. But instead you came back and brought that nuisance"

She's dreaming, trapped in a nightmare. It's the only thing that makes sense to Nadjela when she sees the man she respected and loved turn into a monster that screams and splashes drops of saliva on her.

"Savior?! Our tribe no needs savior! The only thing it deserves is my command! La Cuna is my personal principality. Everything else is the enemy, destruction, betrayal of our roots. And tonight will serve as a lesson for those brainless ones! They will finally understand, with the blood of their sages and their beloved princess, how harmful it is to hope for something better!"

Neddin pushes Nadjela. The princess ends up with her palms planted on the rock. Although her body is still dazed, her mind is working at full speed wanting to understand what is going on. Tashala's words come back to her. She also remembers the mysterious bird-clad tribal who commissioned Erika's services. Her mother, betrayed. Majani, another victim. Zell, another victimizer. The more he thinks about it, the better he fits.

His father never protected La Cuna, he only protected himself. That Chester appeared, that life promised a better future, that mattered little to him. A prosperous land with free people aspiring for more could damage his superior way of life. With disappointment and pain portrayed, Nadjela turns her face to her progenitor.

"You dare to judge me, girl? Very well, fulfill that whim while you still can. But before I give you the sweet relief of death, I will use my right as a father to inflict one last punishment..."

Someone approaches from the rise. Neddin smiles.

"Just in time. My champions are coming. Turn around and face your hero's head"

Nadjela spins around expecting horror. From the bottom of the flat top, a muscular figure appears and, with a long sweep of the arm, throws a lump. The lump traces a parabola and hits the earth, rolling and bouncing to a stop.

It is a burnt head.