Chapter 16.

Discord and rejection.

It was almost 3 in the morning when the old woman, with tired feet and sleep in her eyes, continued to discreetly wander through the halls, taking into account that when she started looking for him it was almost 10 at night. ¿Where could this mischievous and active child have hidden himself? It was as if he had magically disappeared into some secret room and been guided to some hidden passage.

Thus, the old woman took a moment to breathe, placed her hands on her knees to hold herself up for a little while and thought about where the child could be hidden because she had even searched the king's room secretly and there was nothing but disorder and a strong smell of cinnamon, honey and roses, which led the old woman to think mentally if perhaps ¿the royal concubine had somehow bewitched the King?

 Because cinnamon, honey and roses are only used to make offerings and to bewitch lovers making them go crazy with passion for the person who has performed this spell correctly, but even so, talking about it with someone else could be a death sentence, which led the old woman to say to herself in a low voice: I have to tell Lucero when he returns to teach the child the tricks up his sleeve so that in the future he cannot be manipulated magically or energetically by another person. And then, almost instantly, the memory of the child hugging his mother's corpse flashed through her mind, realizing that it was the only place in the palace she had not visited.

It was probably because it was the emptiest area in the palace, and she set off and headed there, but on the way she realized that it was completely dark, that she couldn't see anything, even the entrance to the hallway that led to the rooms and the living room was so dark that she couldn't see the floor. Frightened, the old woman grabbed a kerosene lamp that was nearby, turned it on and began to walk down the hallway, which was so cold that it was as if time had frozen there. 

She could barely see anything with the lamp, but the rest of what was in front of her was darkness and what she left behind was also darkness. 

Then the old woman opened the first door and softly called out to Ciprianito, but there was no answer and walking through the room that was completely empty, there was only a camera, a piece of furniture and a table full of dust that showed that the room had been uninhabited for a long time. 

This was the case until the second and third, but the result was the same.

 When the fourth was reached, there wasn't even a bed, it was an empty room with a pile of books on the floor in disarray, covered in dust and little spiders on the ceiling. 

Going out she realized that there was only one door at the end of the hall and thought that the child had to be there, so she carefully tried to open the door, but it was closed, anxiety led her to think the worst, so she forced that door until it gave way and opened, revealing a scene that she never thought of seeing: there on the floor was Ciprianito lying and there were a lot of butterflies, there were thousands of butterflies perched next to him and giving the shape of a woman hugging the child, the old woman dropped the lamp, but not even with this noise did he wake up and no butterfly flapped its wings, the room was a pleasant temperature as if the fireplace was on, but it was off and the windows were open, however, it was strange because the hallway seemed like a block of ice and the previous rooms were completely frozen, the cold outside the living room was overwhelming, but here inside it felt warm and comforting, the old woman observed, went to one of the pieces of furniture, lay down there and rested until dawn.

 When the sun's rays began to shine on her face, the old woman woke up and the butterflies and the child were still there, completely asleep. It was not until an hour later that the child opened his eyes, and as if he were seeing his mother, he stretched out his little hand as if he were touching her face and whispered something that the old woman could not hear.

Then the mantle of butterflies took flight, decorating the room and leaving through the window, disappearing into the wind, not letting anyone dream that they were there. It was then that Ciprianito, seeing the old woman, said to her: ¿What are you doing here, Maggie? And smiling, she answered, admiring the most wonderful scene that no painting could describe: Now, allow me to carry you to your room because your father should soon be in there to greet you.

 Standing up, the child stretched out his arms to the old woman who carried him and then he said to her: ¿So my father remembered me? And the old woman said to him: He has never stopped loving you, he just doesn't know how to express love in the right way, so just leave out the bad things and keep the beautiful experiences.

The boy rested his head on the old woman's shoulder and sighed and said to her: I cannot forget the things he has done, and although he has done very good things and has taught me so many things with love, even so the scales in my heart do not let it tip completely because of his good actions with me, since the only bad action he has had crushes the good he may have done.

The old woman said nothing and continued on her way in silence, realizing that the hallway was really abandoned and that those doors she had crossed the night before would even be knocked down by a strong wind, but she ignored his words and rocked the child in her arms until they reached her room where the father was sitting on the bed with calm shoulders and a charming look.

 It was then that the man said: you are still a baby who requires care and to be carried everywhere. The old woman answered: the child wanted to sleep with me at night and we woke up in my room. 

I apologize for having made you wait. The man said nothing, he simply said: close the door when you leave.

Father and son, left alone, silence reigned for a few minutes… the child standing near a piece of furniture could not stop looking into his father's eyes and the father looked at him cautiously, as if he were afraid that he would disappear at any moment.

 Then, breaking the silence, the father said to him: I have heard that you excel in almost everything that is taught to you, which makes me happy to know why when the time comes you will be a great king and this place will be your throne, but the boy answered: ¿what a shitty throne?, ¿who wants to rule a people where everyone seems to be equal? ​​There is no adventure in equality… and then the father said to him: then your manners remain the same, but I see that they have worsened a little in my absence, ¿do you perhaps need daddy’s support or is it that I have not given you everything so that you can be happy and live well? 

At that moment, the boy’s eyes became fierce as if they were bloodshot, his forehead wrinkled for a moment and his hands clenched into fists and raising his voice with a completely annoyed tone he shouted at him: ¿have you given me everything daddy? when it is more than evident that you have taken away everything that made me happy, and you have the cynicism to still look me in the face with empathy after what you have done. 

The king stood up, walked to where his son was, bent down to his height, took one of his shoulders in his hand, squeezed gently and with a very relaxed face said to him: I have not taken anything from you, however, it is you who continues to push me away or is it that you do not realize your attitude towards me.

Tell me, look me in the face and see my eyes; tell me what it was that I took from you, because I have taken nothing from you, the child spat in his father's face and said: ¿Don't you remember that just a couple of months ago you abused my mother in a room, you beat her until she lost consciousness and even then you strangled her until she lost her life, or do you dare to deny that it was you? Because my eyes that saw everything will always remember the criminal who snatched the joy from my heart.

Surprised, the father told him: you would not understand, she did not want to obey and it was not my intention to take her life, I was only educating her, but she was rebellious and did not want to be educated and it was her decision to leave the world of the living to escape and enjoy freedom in the world of the dead, she was the traitor, I did not kill your mother, she killed herself. 

The boy then brought one of his fists to his father's cheek and with force raised his leg and hit him in the crotch, so he fell to the floor because of the great pain holding his manhood, and then Ciprianito walked to the door of the room, opened the door knob and turned his head a little and then said: I hope you finish quickly with this scoundrel, you are a cynical man who dares to blame someone who cannot defend themselves, but do not mess with my mother you damn trash, my mother's memory is respected in this damn castle and if you do not want to believe it you better sleep with one eye open because I will be the fury on your shoulders at any moment.

Leaving the room, the rage that Ciprianito felt was great... some maids passed by and were astonished and scared because the boy's attitude was quite frightening, his presence alone made anyone feel instantly intimidated and get out of his way.

Then, when the boy entered the room where his mother's bedroom was, he saw all the sheets covering her furniture and even the organ that was there was full of dust, everything was frozen in time, forgotten as if it had never existed, tears sprang from his eyes, but they were not from sadness but from rage, from annoyance for not having been able to intervene back then; and sitting on the piece of furniture to play the organ he removed the cloth, took a deep breath and closed his eyes thinking of his beloved mother.

He let his fingers flow across the keys playing a beautiful melody… that melody his mother used to play to brighten his days, thousands of memories came to his tender mind: his mother dancing barefoot in the river and splashing him with water, as well as lulling him in the dark night so he would not feel fear or cold.

The feelings overflowed in his memories as if he did not want her to leave his memory and slowly opening his eyes he let out a long sigh, stopped and relaxed his shoulders to walk towards the only painting he had of his mother: a beautiful painting of both of them smiling and that showed the great beauty of both, especially, the delicacy she possessed and yet that painting did not do justice to the real beauty that lived in her.