The Tidal Wave That Seized My Walls - Chapter 15

“Looks like you heard about my birthday somewhere. Was it Edryd?”

Mother held her hand out to me, asking if I had bought a letter or something. I placed a folded piece of parchment into her palm.

“Something like that.”

She started to unfold the parchment right in front of me. I frantically waved my hands to stop her.

“Maybe read it later…?”

“What’s this?”

Her eyes were fixed on the drawing in the center of the parchment. It was a person with eyes, a nose, and a mouth, but my lacking skills made it an accomplishment just to recognize it as a human.

“Is this you?”

“…From when I was little.”

“What?”

“You said it was unfair that you never got to see my face when I was a child.”

I don’t really know what I looked like as a child either. I just drew an approximation based on looking in a mirror. In the margins, I’d written down my favorite foods and other things she might be curious about.

“Probably the first word I ever said was ‘cookie’… Why?”

“Because that’s my first memory. Probably.”

Just then, my arm was pulled. A strong force gripped my wrist and led me to the bed. Before I knew it, I’d come to my senses with my face buried in a fragrant chest. A rain of… something fell onto my head. The arms wrapped around me were trembling.

“My baby…”

The fingers that combed through my hair were slender. Mother cried like a young girl. The woman who was always so impeccably put-together crumbled and sank down. She held me tight, her body shaking with sobs. She kissed my forehead and wet my cheeks with her tears, calling me “my baby” over and over again. My nose, pressed firmly against her chest, struggled for air, but I didn’t mind this suffocating feeling one bit.

With every touch of her hand on my cheek, a longing I had forgotten came bubbling up. A yearning I never even knew existed begged for recognition, guiding my hands. As if on its command, I wrapped my arms around my mother’s waist. This was the embrace from fairy tales—the one I thought I could never have.

That day, Mother fell asleep holding me tight. So this was it. This was what I had dared to hope for, all along.

* * *

The Prince, it was announced, would be arriving ahead of schedule. Thanks to that, I was hauled out of bed at the crack of dawn to be scrubbed, dressed, and primped by a flock of handmaidens. It was absolute chaos. I could hardly believe he was supposed to stay for an entire week. A whole week of being constantly pestered by people.

I was told the adults would greet the Prince first. After Grandfather and Mother had exchanged their formal welcomes, it would finally be Sandora and my turn. But that didn’t mean we got to wait cooped up inside. We had to sit and wait with all the other children who had swarmed upstairs to catch a glimpse of the prince.

Sandora looked utterly dejected. It was because the outsider boy, Kyrran, had been ordered to leave today. It seemed Sandora had grown quite attached to him over the late summer and into autumn. She’d defended him several times, saying, ‘Kyrran’s not so bad. He’s just tired of life on the outside.’ But it was a decision made by the adults, one that no one could defy. It was far beyond Sandora’s power to intervene.

In contrast, Edryd, who appeared with his hair neatly swept back, seemed to be in high spirits.

“No need to be nervous, my ladies. Should any trouble arise, I shall swiftly intervene.”

Neither I nor Sandora placed much faith in his words. Frankly, we doubted anything major could even happen in a room full of children.

Sandora and I wore similar dresses. A vibrant yellow, cinched at the waist with green ribbons. The tailor had made a fuss, saying the color was meant to complement our hair and eye color. The two dresses weren’t identical down to the last stitch, but they were similar enough that one might mistake us for twins at a glance.

The location was a garden where the notoriously finicky latinus flowers were blooming in a sudden, spectacular display. The true unsung hero of this banquet was undoubtedly the gardener, who had managed to cultivate these flawless blooms.

Just three days prior, you couldn’t tell if it was meant to be a banquet hall or a flower bed, but seeing the tables set with such care, it actually looked quite presentable. There was no stopping the autumn wind that whistled through with determined gusto, but it was decent enough for Mother, who had been wound tight with pre-banquet nerves, to finally relax a little.

As the banquet drew nearer, Sandora grew increasingly cold. It wasn’t from nervousness. She was deliberately creating distance.

“I have one request. Don’t interfere in my business.”

She finally came out and said it plainly, not bothering to hide her feelings.

“Your business?”

“I’ll handle it myself. So don’t you get involved, is what I’m saying.”

Unfortunately, I didn’t get a chance to figure out what she meant before my feet came to a halt in front of the long banquet table. Out of the fifty guests in attendance, we were the last to arrive. The chair at the head of the table was left empty for the Prince, and the two seats flanking it were reserved for us.

Over a hundred eyes scanned over me. But before I could even pull my chair out, a boy with brown hair sitting across from us suddenly stood up.

“Yere Ha.”

In unison, every guest in attendance rose to their feet. Well-versed in banquet etiquette, they all stood motionless, waiting for my cue. One misstep here, and I’d be the talk of the town for years to come. I had to diligently follow the mental checklist I’d memorized.

“You may be seated.”

I was supposed to deliver an opening speech immediately after sitting, but I had drawn a complete blank on that part. I’d been taught that sometimes, if the moment wasn’t right, it could be omitted. Thankfully, the guests gave no sign of offense and settled back into their chairs. It seemed I had narrowly avoided a major faux pas.

“Yere Ha.”

It was the boy now stuck to the seat beside me like glue. With his slicked-back navy hair and an overly familiar tone, he spoke as if we’d known each other for ages.

“Akin of Fenek. I congratulate you on your return, Yere Ha.”

Fenek—a Bayereka of the Western region. I couldn’t remember if they were from the right or left faction, but regardless, he was clearly an important guest. For a boy around my age, his manner of speaking was decades too polished. It felt less refined and more… greasy. Instead of replying, I picked up my water glass. Grandfather had advised me to take a sip whenever I wanted to bolt from my seat.

“We’ve all been so eager to meet you in person, Yere Ha. Every single one of us here.”

This was from the boy who had claimed the seat opposite me, next to Sandora. He had a gentle demeanor, and his neat brown hair made a favorable impression. He was also the one who had initiated the standing greeting the moment I arrived.

“Yere Ha. Did you personally oversee the menu preparations?”

“Once the meal concludes, you simply must show us the gardens.”

Even dealing with one of them at a time was overwhelming, but they came at me in a pack, yapping like a bunch of excited puppies. I was dabbing at a cold sweat, trying to formulate answers, when the boy next to me seemed to notice my distress. Suddenly, he tapped his spoon ding-ding against his glass. The smooth flow of the meal came to an abrupt halt. Everyone’s attention swung toward my seatmate.

“Can you not see you are making Yere Ha uncomfortable?”

Says the one making me the most uncomfortable. It was clear Akin Fenek had sold his tact for a pittance. His voice, smooth as butter, carried across the table.

“You eat so little. Is your appetite lacking?”

I tried to do as I was taught. I took a minuscule bite of meat, cut into a piece no larger than a pea, avoiding any appearance of gluttony. I couldn’t even taste it. My empty stomach was starting to get seriously annoyed.

“My, perhaps it has gone cold? We should have it reheated. Shouldn’t we?”

“No.”

He was the first person I ever wanted to sew someone’s mouth shut. What I really wanted was to shove a whole apple right into it.

Just then, a girl holding a glass of lemon juice let out a loud laugh.

“Fenek, shouldn’t you be mindful of your fiancée sitting right across from you? Isn’t doting on Yere Ha so openly a bit too obvious?”

I stabbed my fork into a chicken wing and stared at Akin. Struck right in his weak point, his face had gone pale. Flustered, he finally stammered out to Sandora.

“She’s… she’s right. I wasn’t thinking. Did I make you uncomfortable?”

The revelation that Akin was Sandora’s fiancé was a shock. Sandora, however, handled the sudden spotlight with practiced grace.

“No, it’s quite alright. Attending to Yere Ha is only natural.”

But as Sandora’s words faded, a heavy silence descended upon the table. Akin, who had been chattering away beside me, suddenly found his shoes and the ceiling incredibly interesting. The lull in conversation was deliberate. I couldn’t tell if it was born of malice or simply awkward hesitation.

The one who shattered the prolonged silence was Edryd, seated in the fifth chair.

“Speaking of which. I wonder if you all were aware that our Yere Ha has already begun to wield the light?”

The banquet, which Edryd had just reignited, began to blaze with new energy. It felt as if Sandora’s very existence was being erased from the conversation. Even Akin’s mouth sprang back to life, acting as if the previous awkwardness had never happened.

Amid the inane chatter debating whether the sauce on the fish was savory enough, I felt a wave of disgust. I was well aware the rumors about me and Sandora had spread. Even the newest servants pretended to be in the know; of course these people, who lived and died by gossip, would be worse. What sickened me was that the purpose of their silence was to relish Sandora’s humiliation.

“Yere Ha.”

Among them, Akin Fenek’s cowardice was second to none. He was a vile character who treated loyalty like something to be pulled from his pocket and put away on a whim. I chewed on his words like cud, finding them as tasteless as old hay. He wasn’t worth the anger it took to engage.

“You’ll choke. Some water…?”

But Akin Fenek seemed to be clad in armor made of sheer audacity. He met my thorough ignoring with relentless, seamless conversation.

“Good heavens, Fenek. Anyone would think you’re the one engaged to Yere Ha.”

The girl who wouldn’t stop stirring the pot seemed to have some pent-up feelings toward Akin. She was so persistent, one might think she’d come to the banquet solely for this. Akin, however, wasn’t about to take it lying down. He slammed his glass down with a thud and glared at her.