Creda blinked away her tears.

  She couldn’t believe Nox could do this to them—and still have the nerve to pretend he cared.

  “And you two were defending him!” she snapped at Bhola and Khotal. They shuffled uncomfortably under her glare. “He killed my sister and then… he had the audacity to pretend to help us with her cremation,” she choked out, the words bitter in her throat.

  “Creda, you’ve misunderstood—” Khotal began, his voice placating.

  “Don’t!” she cut him off. “Don’t try to convince me. I know exactly what you did. Don’t think I can’t see through your pretentiousness. You only helped him—saved him—because he’s your mate, isn’t that right?”

  Bhola and Khotal exchanged glances. They had always kept to themselves, avoiding confrontations like this. This was the first time they were embroiled in something so immense, and they didn’t know how to react.

  But Bhola, drawing in a deep breath, found his courage. “What you think is wrong, Creda,” he declared, his voice confident despite his downcast eyes. His forehead was creased with defiance as he continued, “Malok twisted the truth to frame Nox as a killer." If he kept quiet now, just because he's not used to speaking up like the others, then he'll be complicit in Malok's lies. His silence would only make Malok’s deceit seem true.

  He raised his voice slightly. “What you think is wrong,” he repeated. “And you say the Chief is being irrational for causing a scene back there. Yet there he is refusing to punish Nox without proof, without facts, despite Malok’s manipulations. And here you are, doubting Nox just because someone accused him. Is that all it takes? When did you become like this, Creda?”

  His words hung in the air. Crickets chirped in the darkness. Frogs croaked. The massive banyan tree above them rustled softly in the breeze.

  “I know you,” Bhola pressed on. “You're always quick to speak up, but I thought you were more mature than this. I thought you were stronger than to let someone like Malok sway you so easily.”

  “Leave it, Bhola,” Khotal muttered, his voice tinged with resignation. “She’s already made up her mind. She won’t listen to us. She won’t listen to anyone.”

  He scoffed and gestured to the empty space around them. “And look at everyone else. They too act like they know exactly what happened. But we were there. We saw it. Yet no one believes us when we say Nox isn’t guilty.”

  “Exactly,” Bhola agreed, his frustration spilling out. “They’re acting like they don’t even know Nox. Like he’s a stranger to them. How can they believe Malok so easily? Nox would never do something like this! He’s always been so damn good—too good for his own sake! He’s loyal to the Chief, even to the point where he’d gladly lay down his life if asked.”

  Bhola looked pointedly at Creda. “And now? Now he’s an outcast. Not because of some crime, but because he refused to leave you and your mother alone. Because he wanted your sister to be cremated with respect, in line with tradition. That’s what he’s being punished for. But what do you care?”

  The silence that followed was suffocating. Only the sounds of the night filled the void as Creda stared at the ground, her anger and grief battling Bhola’s words in her mind.

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  Khotal grabbed Bhola’s shoulder. "Don’t waste your breath trying to convince her," he said with a dismissive tone. "It’s like talking to a wall. She knows the truth, but she chooses to ignore it. Probably thinks her grief over losing her sister will somehow excuse her selfishness."

  He tugged at Bhola’s arm. "Come on, let’s go check on Nox. I don’t regret not helping with her sister’s cremation earlier, but I do regret leaving Nox alone in all this mess."

  Together, they walked away, leaving Creda standing alone beneath the ancient banyan tree. Her hands clenched into fists, trembling with barely-contained fury. Their words echoed in her mind, a painful sting she couldn’t ignore.

  Selfish. They thought she was masking selfishness with grief? Did they truly believe her sorrow wasn’t real? Did they think she was pretending to mourn her sister?

  Her teeth ground together as anger bubbled beneath the surface. "And what about the bloodstained dagger?" she muttered to herself. The words felt like fire on her tongue. She wanted to demand an answer, to confront them and have the last word. Without thinking, she turned on her heel and stormed off in the direction they had taken.

  Emerging from the tangled roots of the banyan tree, Creda spotted Bhola and Khotal in the distance, heading toward the lake. She opened her mouth to shout at them, but the silence of the night stopped her. Everyone in the village was already settled, and the haunting stillness of the night pressed down on her. She didn’t want to wake the others or cause a scene again—it was between her and them now.

  Determined, she quickened her pace, even jogging at times, but the two young men moved faster, their longer strides making it impossible for her to catch up. When she finally reached the lakeshore, she saw Bhola and Khotal standing by Nox, who was seated on a large boulder, gazing out at the water.

  Nox turned as they approached, and to Creda’s surprise, his face lit up faintly at the sight of them. He looked tired, but there was relief in his expression. She crouched behind the thick brush, hiding in the shadows to observe them without being seen.

  The three men spoke in low voices, their words muffled by the night breeze. Nox placed a hand on each of their shoulders, nodding with a faint smile before gesturing toward the village. Bhola and Khotal hesitated for a moment but eventually turned back toward the settlement.

  As they began to leave, Creda stepped out of the greenery, startling them.

  "What are you doing here?" Khotal demanded, his voice sharp with suspicion. "Spying on us?"

  Creda scoffed, folding her arms across her chest. "Spy on you? Please. I’ve got better things to do." Her glare was unwavering. "Actually, I wasn’t finished talking to you when you walked off, so I came after you."

  "And what do you want now?" Bhola asked impatiently.

  "The dagger," she said, her tone cold and matter-of-fact.

  "What about it?" Khotal asked, his brow furrowing.

  Creda’s voice rose, frustration evident. "Turo’s dagger—it was bloodstained. And Nox had it hidden in his waistband."

  Khotal let out an incredulous laugh. "So that’s your proof, huh? That’s what you’re basing all of this on?" He crossed his arms, a mocking smirk tugging at his lips.

  Creda met his gaze defiantly, daring him to deny it.

  "Look," Bhola said, raising a hand in a gesture of peace. "We don’t even know if it was human blood. What proof do you have that it was your sister’s? For all we know, Nox could’ve been defending himself against a predator or something."

  But Creda wasn’t listening anymore. Her attention had shifted, her gaze drifting past Khotal. She squinted into the darkness, her brow furrowed in suspicion.

  Khotal and Bhola turned to follow her gaze. Nox was walking along the shore, heading toward the shallow river.

  "Where’s he going at this hour?" Creda muttered to herself, then directed her question to the men. "Did he say anything to you?"

  Bhola shook his head. "He just told us not to get into trouble over him," he replied reluctantly. "Said we should rest, that we were probably exhausted from last night."

  But Creda wasn’t paying attention. She was already moving, following Nox toward the river. He was far ahead now, his silhouette blending into the night.

  Creda quickened her pace, her determination burning like a flame.

  "Wait! Where are you going?" Bhola called after her. "Go back home!"

  Creda turned her head briefly, still striding forward. "And lose him? Not a chance. I want to know what he’s up to now."

  Tomorrow's chapter is the climax of Book 1: The Cursed Child. Don't miss it!