He didn’t get to finish speaking. Atikus’ face appeared before his eyes, against his will. He remembered a line from the story that the poor General had told him, which was similar to the stories that South Wind had used to tell: I’m tired of life, and would be glad to see the world crumble to dust with me. It sounded like a fitting epitaph for Atikus’ gravestone.
“Although, to be honest, at the time, I still had my doubts.” Primus couldn’t calm down. He was drowning so completely in his own sense of superiority — drunk on his triumph, but, judging by his eyes, he wasn’t the happiest person. “Well, you must’ve either been a desperate idiot or a madman to come to the Palace. General Hadjar Traves... You didn’t even change your name.”
“Whatever for?” Hadjar asked in surprise. “There are as many Hadjars in the country as there are sins weighing your soul down — too numerous to count.”
“And yet, I still had my doubts. I probably couldn’t believe anyone could be so arrogant. But this,” Primus threw the dagger into the air. He caught it an inch from Hadjar’s face. “Atikus would’ve never given this to anyone. Except, of course, to his adorable little Prince.”
Hadjar silently looked at the window.
Primus rose from the stool, approached the prisoner and, bending down, whispered in his ear: “Tell me, nephew, what’s it like to kill the only person you care for?”
In the depths of Hadjar’s eyes, an anger that could crack the sky itself flared up. The King recoiled out of sheer reflex.
“You should know more about that than me, kinslayer,” Hadjar growled back.
Now it was Primus’ turn to show his own primal rage and thirst for blood.
“What do you know, you insolent whelp? Your father-”
“Atikus told me everything,” Hadjar interrupted him. “I know everything.”
For a while, they stared silently at one another. Then Primus suddenly snapped his fingers and the chains came alive once more. They fell to the floor, releasing Hadjar. He didn’t have time to comprehend anything before the guards grabbed him by the collar and dragged him off somewhere. Hadjar kept fainting from the unbearable pain. The few times he managed to stay conscious for a while, he tried to count the turns and the torches on the walls of the casemates. He was soon thrown into another cell. It was much more spacious, even if it still smelled foul, but it had an open window near the ceiling.
“Enjoy,” Primus said through clenched teeth and slammed the door shut.
At first, Hadjar thought that he was alone in the cell, but then a voice sounded.
“My Prince…”
Despite the fact that the voice clearly couldn’t belong to a human being, Hadjar recognized it.
“Nanny?” Hadjar turned to the sound.
His heart skipped a beat... then another... then another... And Hadjar started crying for the first time in almost fifteen years. His tears were full of rage, sorrow, horror, and despair. They fell to the floor and evaporated with a hiss, leaving shallow hollows on the surface of the stone.
Chapter 245
There was Nanny, across from him in the cell, hanging on some chains like a piece of meat. The woman who had cared for Hadjar as eagerly as his own mother had. Actually, as a child, Hadjar had often believed that he’d gotten very lucky. After all, children usually had only one mother, but he’d had his mother and Nanny.
Now, under the light of the waning moon, Hadjar could once again look at the woman who had devoted her life to him. Maybe he could talk to her. Or rather, what was left of her. Held aloft by heavy chains and cruel hooks that had been lodged under her ribs, hung... a slab of flesh. It had no arms or legs, and the stumps were wrapped in yellow, pus-soaked, foul-smelling, crusty, and in some places, fused strips of old bandages. The torso was completely naked and covered in terrible scars. Instead of her once matronly bosom, there were only terrible hollows, charred, with horrifically intricate scars that must’ve been the result of burns. Her head was bald. Well, calling it a head was maybe being too generous. It was more like a skull with small patches of dry, thin skin. The right cheek... In reality, there was no right cheek, only a few naked muscle fibers covering her teeth and tongue. Apparently, these had been left behind so that Nanny could still talk. Nothing else was left. The eyes were now two dark pits, with the same complex burns as on her chest. Instead of a nose, she had two loose strips of flesh, fluttering with every breath. The already dried out lines of pus that had once flowed from her eyes gleamed slightly in the light.
The chains and Nanny swayed. It was actually hard to determine which of them had initiated the motion. Hadjar had no idea what kind of pain she must’ve been enduring, suspended by her ribs, but Nanny seemed to have gotten used to it. After all, a person could get used to anything... Even when there was precious little left of the person in question.
“What did he do to you, Nanny?” Hadjar’s voice broke.
He walked toward her, but moved like a broken doll, twitching. He sobbed.
“My little Prince,” Nanny couldn’t see him, but she heard his footsteps. “I knew you would come, my little Prince.”
Hadjar stopped in front of her. He hesitantly extended his hand toward her left, still whole cheek, but she moved it away. As far as she could.
“No, my little Prince. Your heart is stronger than steel, but even steel would shatter after touching this horror.”
Hadjar’s hand froze in the air. He seemed to fall into a cold, bottomless darkness. Due to his naivety, his sheer childish stupidity, he’d believed that Primus would never hurt Nanny, as she had helped raise not only Hadjar, but Haver
