The Tidal Wave That Seized My Walls - Chapter 16

“Watch your tongue.”

“Then perhaps you should pay some attention to your poor fiancée. I can’t even bear to watch.”

The girl, who was clearly here for a fight, didn’t back down. She laughed behind her hand, a smug, triumphant sound.

“Did your fiancée change overnight or something?”

“Bithia.”

Sandora intervened. It was a plea to be left out of a conversation she wanted no part of. But Bithia just snorted, having already calculated that she could chop Sandora’s opinions to bits without consequence.

“Stop pestering Yere Ha. It’s embarrassing to watch…”

“The future is unpredictable.”

Akin coldly cut Bithia off. His voice was filled with a baseless confidence. His eyes then met mine. After a muttered ‘Excuse me,’ he turned his arrow back toward Sandora.

“After all, I was originally meant to be engaged to Yere Ha.”

Sandora took her vile fiancé’s betrayal head-on. She had no reason to flee, so she didn’t run. But I knew. This wasn’t a calm she was born with. Sandora was enduring, persevering, holding on as if repaying a debt she’d been saddled with.

She had been steeling herself ever since she heard the news of the Prince’s stay in the West. People’s psyches revel not in a smooth ascent, but in a spectacular fall from grace. They worship a rise but are enthralled by a crash. Since the fingers that once lifted others up feel so heavy, they’re all too eager to chant, Fall, fall, come back down.

“Sandora.”

Akin Fenek, who hadn’t yet released the bowstring, pressed on.

“Does the Lady Yereka Ha have nothing to say about this engagement?”

He was using polite language, but his meaning was clear: ‘I’ve been swindled, why is no one saying anything?’ Akin seemed obsessed with securing a place beside Yereka. A creature like him must be sick with anxiety, feeling his position is so unstable.

“I’m sure she will speak soon.”

“When?”

Akin was vile. It was clear he was determined to utterly humiliate Sandora. The attendees were all perking up their ears, eagerly egging the fight on.

“Akin.”

“Yes?”

“I understand you wish to quickly annul our engagement, but if you lack the courage to speak to Lady Yereka directly yourself, then you must wait for her decision. I have nothing more to say to you.”

Edryd stepped in to support Sandora.

“Wasn’t it just the other day you were falling over yourself to be kind to her, to the point of being obsequious? I suppose your pride was that wounded, huh? The moment it was revealed she wasn’t the one, you turn this cold.”

The boy next to Sandora also chimed in.

“Akin. That’s enough.”

But Akin failed to recognize the line he had crossed.

“Don’t you pretend to be the good guy.”

“What?”

Cornered, Akin lost his composure.

“You must be thrilled, Widman? Overjoyed that this spot might become yours.”

The boy who had defended Sandora was from House Widman. Like Akin, he was a scion of a Western bayereka, and I’d heard he was the son of the noblewoman who had brought me into the city. Widman, wisely wanting to avoid dirtying his hands, took a step back. He was a far wiser man than Akin.

Akin’s arrow had lost its target. His pointless anger finally began lashing out in all directions.

“How did I ever get caught in this filthy web…?”

The atmosphere grew so icy even the howling autumn wind seemed to cautiously retreat. Akin had abandoned all courtesy, honor, and even basic humanity.

“What is the meaning of this…!”

I twisted my wrist, “accidentally” tipping over a full glass of water. Ice-cold liquid cascaded down the stiff front of Akin’s meticulously tailored tailcoat.

“Yere Ha!”

I shrugged my shoulders.

“My mistake.”

The glass in Akin’s hand was trembling. I made the final cut to the last shred of rationality holding him back.

“I think that’s a significant improvement, actually.”

Red veins shot across the whites of Akin’s eyes. Rage, unyielding and humiliated, wiped his mind clean. He flung the contents of his own glass directly at me.

“Akin Fenek! Even for a bayereka, how could you…!”

Just as the onlookers began to cry out at his appalling breach of decorum, a sharp crack! echoed across the table. My hand had struck Akin’s cheek with full force. His head snapped to the side from the impact, a dazed look on his face.

“Hey.”

“Iyara!”

Sandora rushed forward to intervene. Edryd also shot up from his seat. He’d seen Akin, eyes wide and wild, raising his hand.

“Don’t you dare, Akin!”

The banquet had been ruined beyond repair, a mess even a dog wouldn’t touch. Edryd was holding Akin back, and Sandora had a firm grip on my wrist. The guests had split into factions, and a full-blown commotion had erupted. Someone’s excited elbow knocked over a sauce boat. It overturned on the pristine white tablecloth, a viscous brown sauce oozing out and snaking its way across the center of the table like a serpent.

Then, a sound of applause cut through the chaos.

“Wow.”

Ha ha ha! It was a light, cheerful laugh. Every excited gaze snapped toward the sound at once. Screech. The chair at the head of the table was pulled out. The guest of honor had finally taken his seat. But he was positioned a good ten paces from the table, perfectly placed to spectate the disaster that had unfolded. He crossed his left leg over his right thigh and tilted his head.

“Don’t stop on my account.”

His black hair, having arrived late, fluttered slightly in the breeze. He stroked his chin, his eyes—a playful, brilliant blue—alternating between me, Sandora, Widman, and Akin. It felt like blue ink might drip from his gaze as it danced from person to person. It finally landed on me, putting a period on the scene. He took in my drenched face, my overall appearance of a drowned rat.

Everyone immediately became models of propriety at the Prince’s appearance. They had all come with their own agendas, so they were more than happy to pretend the fracas had never happened.

The Prince’s first greeting was for Edryd.

“It’s been a while, Edryd.”

The addressed Edryd straightened his back and bowed his head.

“You’re all going to keep standing now that I’m here?”

Sandora squeezed my hand tightly once before letting go. Now that the Prince was here, we couldn’t just slink away and call the banquet off. Her look said she trusted I understood.

Fortunately, Akin’s reason seemed to sprout like a new shoot the moment he saw the Prince. He took his seat, one cheek still blazing red. Sandora and Widman also returned to their places. That left only me.

I let out a long, steadying breath, as if trying to contain my anger. It was time to pull my chair out roughly and sit down.

“Hello.”

I tilted my head and met the Prince’s gaze. As a matter of courtesy, I gave a slight, polite nod. He looked at me and smirked. His long fingers tapped rhythmically on the arm of his chair.

The Prince pinched the stem of his glass between his fingers and raised it. Then, slowly, he brought it to his lips. His gaze remained locked on me as he swallowed, pinning me in place. It felt like he was lifting me up by my toes, giving me a spin to see what flaws would fly out, then tying me down so I couldn’t even twitch under his scrutiny. His eyes were condescending, as if he knew every one of my sins.

I was the first to look away. His stare was unbearably, unnervingly uncomfortable. Without another word, I sat down in my chair. The table, now past the initial disturbance, was filled with nothing but the sound of awkward coughs. The Prince swallowed his water slowly, deliberately. The sound of it going down his throat seemed to echo across the quiet space.

No one spoke to him; no one dared to open their mouth. The Prince watched the entire assembly playing this game of avoiding his eyes and let out a soft laugh.

“So the rumor that anyone who makes eye contact with me will have four years of bad luck has finally made its way here, I see.”

“Huh?”

It was Akin who took the bait. The Prince’s eyes lit up seeing the swollen side of his face. Staring right at Akin, the Prince twirled a finger in a circle near his own cheek, asking what had happened. Akin quickly bowed his head.

“I was bitten by a passing insect.”

I couldn’t hold back a laugh. I looked at Akin sitting beside me with sheer mockery.

“My. It must have been a terribly large insect.”

The Prince just leaned back comfortably in his chair, settling in to watch the show. Akin’s eyes flashed with a vile light.

“It was an insect from the outside world, full of poison. Please pay it no mind.”

Dozens of people caught the sarcasm in Akin’s words. Doing it once was hard, but doing it a second time was as easy as flipping a hand. My hand flew out fast. This time, it connected with the unblemished opposite side of Akin’s face. The sharp smack! cut through the air.

“Yere Ha.”

Widman shifted in his seat, a silent plea to exercise restraint, especially in front of the Prince. Instead, the Prince merely wiggled his fingertips, a clear dismissal. Don’t bother with clumsy interference; just enjoy the show. It seemed the Prince had not the slightest intention of stopping this, not even a hair’s worth.

The moment he was hit again, Akin’s last thread of restraint snapped. He lunged, tackling me onto the table. The tablecloth bunched and dragged under my back as plates and silverware slid to one side before crashing onto the dirt floor. Most of these so-called refined guests, who’d been pretending to cough politely, weren’t even sixteen yet. Rather than calling for someone to break it up, they were utterly absorbed in watching the tussle, an age where brawls are more entertaining than propriety. I gained the upper hand, pinning him, then Akin reversed our positions. His shirt collar was smeared with sauce, and the hem of my skirt was torn and riding up.

We rolled across the table, fell onto a chair, and then tumbled to the ground. Just as I had Akin pinned beneath me, my hand raised high to strike, a cold, furious shout made the hair on my neck stand on end.

“Iyara Witterbalde!”

My hand froze mid-air, then dropped. Stomping toward us was my furious grandfather. Someone must have scurried off to tattle. Then again, there were a dozen servants just carrying trays alone. It was only a matter of time before this happened.

Grandfather bowed his head to the Prince, who was sipping tea with an air of delinquent amusement. The Prince gave a light laugh and gestured with his hand as if to say, carry on.

“Get up.”

Slowly, I climbed off of Akin, where I’d been holding him down. Grandfather’s stern gaze was fixed on my disheveled appearance and sopping wet hair. Seemingly unable to contain himself, he personally hauled me up by the shoulder.

A cloud of old dust settled over the ruined table. Akin scrambled on the floor like a disoriented old man feeling his way in the dark, waiting for my grandfather’s indignant roar. But then, the Prince, who had been so diligently playing the role of spectator, chose that moment to bizarrely interject.