The Tidal Wave That Seized My Walls - Chapter 19

“Not coming down?”

Lights swarmed around Ellinger. It felt like an endless chase. That guy was taunting me—catch me, catch me—as if luring me on. Realizing it, anger flared. The bird feed in my hand was the perfect weapon. His feet were still not too far from the ground.

“Ellinger Morrone.”

If dropping honorifics called for punishment, I would take it. I was in no mood to say something like, ‘Here comes the prince.’

Hearing his name spoken, Ellinger’s face stiffened with surprise. I hurled the feed straight at him. The yellow grains scattered, reaching his chest. That night, I claimed my revenge. Giggling, I waved my hand.

“Try pulling a stunt like this one more time, and next, I’ll dump horse dung on your head.”

He clearly hadn’t expected to be struck. I lifted my foot and smacked the ankle he had dangling in the air. A clean hit—enough to throw his body off balance. Only belatedly did Ellinger clutch his ankle, whining an “Ow.” The pain must’ve been mild compared to his ambition. To wear such a face of exaggerated agony—what a faker.

I worried he might come after me, so I looked for a safe place. No spot seemed better than Grandfather’s study. Surely he wouldn’t dare lay hands on me before Grandfather. Luckily—or unluckily—Ellinger didn’t chase me from his annex. Alone, I ran and ran, until I reached Grandfather’s study, panting for breath.

Mother was there as well. It looked like the two of them had been discussing something. Seeing me dripping with sweat, both looked startled.

“Iyara, did you run all the way here?”

Mother came to wipe the sweat streaming down from my forehead. Grandfather just shook his head side to side as if to say he couldn’t stop me. Being treated like some scatterbrained child at play stung me with resentment. Before I knew it, I snapped back curtly.

“When is the prince leaving?”

“The prince?”

Mother and Grandfather looked at me in confusion. Then Grandfather asked something so absurd I nearly choked.

“You don’t want him to leave?”

“What a horrible thing to say!”

My answer burst out like a scream, and Mother chuckled softly. Though she covered her mouth with her fingers, the smile was plain to see. She must have thought I was just throwing a childish tantrum.

“I hate him so much. He’s made a complete mess of the annex, and though I hate to say it, he even rolled me on the ground.”

Mother held her waist as if she might fall backward, laughing with her teeth showing. Grandfather, too, was grinning ear to ear.

“Why are you laughing?”

“No reason.”

With a firm tug, Mother drew my head into her embrace. I was hidden deep against her chest. A gentle fragrance rose from her shoulder—one I had smelled thousands of times, yet still longed for. The anger swirling at the crown of my head slowly fell away.

“You’re truly my daughter.”

The study was hushed, filled with the faint scent of wood. In that stillness, Grandfather’s quill scratched across parchment. The soft rasp of ink on vellum, the fireplace stacked with thick logs, the springlike fragrance of flowers clinging to Mother—if I could carry one memory all the way to my death, surely it would be something like this. That day, whenever I think back to that study, it fills the icy gaps of my past.

* * *

The next day, Edryd returned to the castle where his parents lived. He told me and Sandora not to be upset, patting us both on the back. Before boarding the carriage, we even shared a hug.

“See you in Idriheim, cousins.”

“Travel safe, Edryd.”

He removed the hat he had worn and gave an exaggerated bow. I laughed as I saw him off.

“Take care.”

Edryd came closer, as if to say That’s all?, and pulled me into a hug. I could only marvel at how natural such embarrassingly affectionate gestures came to him. Before letting go, he whispered softly in my ear.

“Before meeting you, I was worried about so much. I’m glad I can leave with peace of mind now.”

Before departing, Edryd pointed toward Sandora, telling me to keep a good eye on her. After he was gone completely, it was just Sandora and me. Walking with my hands clasped behind my back, I asked,

“Sandora.”

“Mm?”

“He’s gone, right?”

I meant that outsider, the one who should have left long ago. With everything else happening, I hadn’t paid him any mind. Sandora gave the faintest shake of her head, or perhaps not even that. I couldn’t tell if it meant yes or no. Her face betrayed clear unease. The way she fumbled through her words only made me suspicious, so I pressed her again and again. In the end, Sandora hurried off up the stairs, insisting I was worrying for nothing.

That was the moment I decided I had to see for myself.

As I walked through the blooming garden, a sharp sting shot through my ankle, like a bee’s sting. Looking down, I saw the stem of a flower coiled around it. The blossom wriggled strangely, trying to creep into the tip of my shoe. When I lifted my gaze, the culprit smiled and waved.

It was Ellinger Morrone.

He lounged casually against the fountain, tossing bird feed. Of course, this had to be payback for the feed I had thrown at him. The more I struggled to shake it off, the more stems joined together, binding both my legs.

Ellinger sat there on the fountain, watching my resistance with glee. When I cursed at him, he licked his lips as if savoring it. When I pointed a finger at him, he mimicked me, pointing back in the exact same way.

Whenever people appeared, he let me go. But the moment they left, the flowers tied me down again. And so it went, until the sun began to sink in the sky.

As the sun set, Ellinger yawned and stretched. He rose from the fountain and returned to his annex. Thanks to him, I had skipped lunch, dinner, and even snacks. Mother asked why I hadn’t come down for meals, but I gave no reply. No one could correct the prince’s habits or drive him away. It was a matter for me, the one he had wronged, to handle myself.

When a fight is picked, avoiding it isn’t etiquette. My resolve to ignore him and let it go had burned out, leaving only ashes. Now it was time to smear that ash all over the troublemaker’s face. By then, I had long forgotten about the matter concerning Sandora.

At dawn, I woke and went in search of fine clay. I scooped some up and set it aside in an empty bowl. Ellinger’s bedroom was on the third floor of the annex. Riding on light, I floated upward and clung quietly to the wall. Soon, a maid entered and flung open the curtains. Sunlight streamed into Ellinger’s room. He rubbed his eyes, half-asleep, sprawled in a mess of a posture.

It was the perfect timing. The maid poured water beside him while Ellinger sat up with drowsy eyes. Carefully, I opened the window and shaped a lump of clay in my hand. At that moment, before anyone noticed, I launched it with the force of light.

“Oh my!”

Unfortunately, it only struck his neck. I quickly rolled another lump and hit him square in the face. But Ellinger, catching on, raised a hand and managed to block it. Of course, he couldn’t block the damage of the clay itself. The lump splattered across his bed. His gaze snapped to me, staring out the window. Not even a trace of a smirk remained.

No matter his mood, I was satisfied. Clay suited the prince marvelously. That morning, I ate twice my usual portion. I even laughed with my fork in my mouth, delighted.

“Are you feeling unwell?”

Sandora looked at me with worried eyes. I shook my head, beaming.

“Something good happened.”

But there was one thing I overlooked—Ellinger Morrone was a vile bastard like no other. I had expected retaliation, but I never imagined he would stoop to such cowardly tricks.

The gap between him and me, standing just one step apart, was enough to make me curse. And yet that bastard dared to come all the way to my training grounds and ask my teacher for a spar. My teacher looked troubled, but I did not refuse. If Ellinger thought I would break that easily, he was sorely mistaken.

“Surely I won’t hurt her, will I?” he had said—before shattering the sword I held in my grip. He knew exactly what would drive me mad. With just a light swipe, he made me drop my blade again and again. Controlling light demanded fierce concentration, after all.

And life’s light was limited. With only so many sparks to gather, a duel was a matter of who had more to wield. The weaker side always carried fewer lights. It was a match I could not possibly win.

Up until the day before he left, Ellinger tormented me daily. When I trained to gather light, he shouted right into my ear. When I lashed out with my sword in anger, he subdued me effortlessly.

He didn’t even bother to draw a blade. He dodged with his body or picked up a wooden practice sword. Whenever I stomped in outrage, he’d grin and ask, “Surrendering already?” As if I ever would. I picked myself up, lifted my sword again.

Morning, night, dawn—there was no hour safe from him. He would appear at random and challenge me. One day, he started before sunrise and dragged me on until the moon dipped low. That night, I collapsed before I could even reach my bedroom, falling asleep on the stairs. The next morning, waking to find his jacket draped over me nearly stopped my heart. Annoyed, I tore a hole through it before handing it back. To my horror, he only grew more thrilled. “It’s the only one of its kind in the world, isn’t it?” he said.

Seven days of shuddering as I clashed with him. At last, the exit to what seemed like a nightmare without end appeared. On the day Ellinger departed, I finally slept deeply. While everyone else went out to see him off, I claimed I had a fever and stayed in bed. No one doubted me; they merely thought I’d come down with an illness.

The very first morning without Ellinger, even the air felt different. I woke refreshed, luxuriating in the lightness of it, when one of the maids brought me a letter. She was the one who had attended Ellinger. She said he had left it for me before he departed. The parchment carried the scent of Latinus.

Its message was simple, brief.

[Let’s play again.]

For me, it had been bloodstained vengeance. For Ellinger, it had been nothing more than a game. I tore the letter and shoved it into an unused drawer, leaving it there to rot.