Chapter 275: Internal Tension in the Tribe

Gasps rose from the women gathered around the cage. Muffled remarks quickly spread through the crowd, each one feeding the resentment Max’s answer had stirred. The brief amusement disappeared from their faces, and several women moved closer, watching him as though his refusal to submit had confirmed everything they feared about his presence.

“See? That is exactly what I told you! Men cannot be trusted! They are animals who will eat away at our souls and bite the very hand that feeds them!”

Antiope pushed through the women before anyone could answer, forcing those closest to the cage to step aside. Max turned his head just enough to meet her eyes, refusing to look away as she stopped at the entrance. With the High Shaman already kneeling beside him, there was little room for a woman of Antiope’s height and breadth to enter.

She leaned toward the opening, her shoulders blocking much of the sunlight. Up close, Max could see the thick muscles along her arms and the tension gathering in her neck as she clenched her jaw. To his eyes, she looked like someone who had trained until strength had swallowed every trace of softness, leaving a frame built to overpower anyone who stood before her.

“Calm yourself, Antiope.”

The High Shaman did not even look toward her as she continued applying medicine to Max’s wounds. There were far more than she had initially realized, some deep enough to make her wonder how he had remained conscious. He looked as though he had just returned from a war, and she had no idea how close that thought came to the truth.

Treating him did not mean she agreed with his words, though she held some respect for his refusal to yield. She shook her head and met his eyes, silently urging him to show restraint while her hands continued their work.

Beside her, Arana shifted uneasily, glancing between her teacher and the woman blocking the entrance. Her fingers tightened around the empty flask as though she could not decide whether to retreat or remain at the High Shaman’s side.

“Move. I will only warn you once.”

Antiope’s grip tightened around the doorway, and a sharp crack came from the black wood beneath her fingers.

Antiope’s glare burned into the High Shaman’s back. All the hatred she held toward men had found a target in Max, and anyone who stood between them risked becoming an enemy as well. Even the bonds that had held the tribe together like a family for generations seemed to mean little to her in that moment.

“Leave them be. You need to calm down, sister.”

Myrina caught Antiope’s wrist before she could reach farther into the cage. Her arm looked slender beside her sister’s, yet when Antiope pulled against her grip, Myrina remained firmly in place, her feet planted in the dust.

The women closest to them immediately backed away, lowering their eyes as they made room. Even the High Shaman’s fingers stopped against Max’s wound, leaving a streak of golden paste unfinished across his skin.

“What are you doing? Are you protecting that thing?”

Antiope tried to wrench her arm free again. The muscles along her shoulder tightened, but Myrina’s grip held, and the surprise that crossed Antiope’s face quickly hardened into anger.

“He is my responsibility. I brought him here, and I will deal with him if he breaks our laws,” Myrina answered, meeting her sister’s glare. “But making him your pet is something our tribe should never accept, no matter what you believe.”

Max watched their joined hands before looking up at Myrina. He had noticed her caution earlier, but now he understood that she had more than enough strength to act upon it. Of everyone he had met here, she, the High Shaman, and Arana were the only ones he felt any respect toward.

Antiope, however, had made herself a problem he intended to deal with once he recovered. He would not allow her to mistake his dependence on their medicine for permission to do whatever she pleased with him.

“Are you challenging me to a fight to the death, sister?”

Antiope’s voice lowered, and the last few murmurs around the cage faded. Myrina’s fingers remained locked around her wrist.

“Enough of this madness!”

The High Shaman’s shout made Arana flinch and Max narrow his eyes. She turned toward the sisters, her medicine-stained hand lifting from his chest.

“If you insist on fighting, then go ahead, but neither of you will fight to the death over a stranger. What would your mother say if she saw you now?”

Myrina lowered her head, and her grip loosened.

Antiope felt it immediately and tore her wrist free, drawing her arm against her side as she glared at the older woman.

“I don’t care what that traitor has to say about me or this place.”

She gave Max one last murderous look before turning away. The women parted to let her through, her heavy footsteps throwing up dust as she stormed toward a cluster of houses that appeared to be built from clay and straw.

Before reaching them, she stopped and looked back over her shoulder.

“This is not over. Not with you, you filthy animal.” Her eyes settled on Max before shifting toward her sister. “And not with you, Myrina. Once I become chieftain, neither of you will dare stand in my way again.”

“Do not mind her, Max. She has her own demons to conquer, just as you have yours. But be careful. This is neither your home nor your land. One wrong move, one wrong word, and I might turn my back when your head goes flying.”

The High Shaman resumed treating his wounds, her hands moving with the same care as before despite the warning she had just given him.

“Thank you for the warning,” Max replied simply.

He understood all too well the desire to protect his people from strangers. He still remembered how easily one had stormed into his own home and killed Light, leaving him with a loss he could never undo.

He had no desire to become that stranger here, to make these women remember him the way he remembered Aurelius. Yet even as the thought passed through his mind, he knew there were circumstances in which he would justify doing exactly that.