The Tidal Wave That Seized My Walls - Chapter 9

“Ed…”

Just as I thought she’d burst into tears again, Sandora’s gaze shifted—past Edryd, landing on me. She hastily tugged her nightgown higher, as if caught unprepared.

“Why are you here?”

With the flowers now in my hands instead of Edryd’s, I scrambled for words. It was absurd—us, who’d barely exchanged civilities, suddenly playing concerned visitors. Sandora seemed to think so too. The softness she’d shown Edryd cracked like thin ice, her voice sharpening.

“Pity, is it?”

She glared at the flowers in my hand like they offended her. Those same tear-swollen eyes now burned into me.

“Don’t. I’m not pathetic enough to need your pity. I’m not suffering, either.”

Edryd, silent until now, cut in, baffled: “What the hell are you on about?”

“It’s just a mild fever. No need to fuss.”

“Dia. Why’re you being like this? We were worried—”

“Who asked you to?”

Her glare swung back to me. The message was clear: Leave. Fine. Sick people got leeway. We were never friendly to begin with, and now she’d been caught in a vulnerable moment—of course she’d hate it. Everyone wants to keep their dignity around strangers. I would.

“I’ll go.”

“Wait. Iyara.”

Whether Edryd objected or not, I was done. I set the flowers on the nightstand and turned—only for a cold voice to halt me.

“Take it back. I don’t need it.”

So this was what they meant by “seeing red.” My temper flared—no, this was her fault. My retreating footsteps halted. I turned back. Sandora lay there, pale and weak, yet her eyes tracked me like a hawk. Watching to see if I’d really leave.

“What’re you doing?”

I snatched the vase a maid had left, yanked out its flowers, and dumped them on the floor. Then I stuffed Edryd’s blooms inside and slammed it onto her bedside table.

“There. Get well, okay?”

Sandora stared at the vase like I’d lost my mind. As I turned to go—

Crash.

I didn’t need to look back.

“Sandora!”

She’d lurched upright, defiance in her glare. The shattered vase and Edryd’s flowers lay in ruins. I’d kept my temper in check for so long, but now it spiked, jagged and raw.

“Your own cousin brought those, you know?”

The sound of breaking porcelain echoed down the hall. Someone pounded on the door—we’d even woken the maids. Edryd stood between us, caught in the crossfire.

Sandora’s voice was steel.

“Don’t lie.”

“Lie? Ask him if I’m lying.”

“What, you’ve won Edryd over too now?”

“Won him over—?”

I lunged. Edryd intercepted me, one arm barricading Sandora as she tried to rise.

“Fine, take it all. None of it was ever mine to begin with.”

“Sandora! What the hell’s gotten into you?!”

Edryd shouted, straining to hold me back. I couldn’t believe her self-pity. She was the one playing the victim here?

“What, you regret giving them now?”

“Iyara!”

Sandora’s eyes sharpened. She swayed upright and slapped my hand away—not hard, but the gesture was filthy with contempt.

“I don’t regret it! Take it! Just stop looking at me like I’m some pitiful thing. Don’t you dare pity me. You disgust me. Who do you think you—?!”

“Sandora, enough!”

Edryd loosened his grip just enough—I sank my teeth into his shoulder. He yelped, and I lunged for Sandora’s bed. She grabbed my shoulders; I seized her collar. We traded blows like alley cats—her nails raked my cheek, my shoulder, my jaw. Where did this stick-thin brat get such strength? When I punched near her eye, she screeched like a banshee.

“Goddammit! Sandora! Stop!”

Blood splattered the pillowcase—hers or mine, who knew? We tumbled off the bed just as the door burst open. Footsteps pounded, but we kept tearing at each other, fingers clawing for fresh wounds.

Then—thrum. A sound like hummingbird wings. Green fireflies swarmed my vision. My limbs lifted of their own accord. The metallic tang of blood lingered in my mouth as I flailed in midair.. Sandora hung opposite me, suspended in the same eerie glow. Our eyes met in the void.

“Iyara. Sandora.”

At the sound of the voice, I turned my head. There stood Mother, her expression horrified, one hand pressed to her mouth—and Grandfather, his arm raised. Behind them, the maids kept their heads bowed.

The light was coming from Grandfather. Countless tiny green embers, connected to his outstretched hand, held us suspended in the air. Only when he saw we’d calmed did he slowly lower us to the ground.

My eye was already swelling red, my mouth tasted of blood, and my ankle throbbed the moment it touched the floor—sprained, probably. Sandora didn’t seem much better; she crumpled the second her feet hit the ground. The silence stretched unbearably until Grandfather’s voice, thick with displeasure, cut through it.

“I take it words weren’t enough for this fight.”

I expected Sandora to snap back instantly, but she just sniffled. Grandfather’s gaze flicked between us, waiting. When neither of us spoke, he exhaled sharply.

“Not a single word from either of you?”

We both stared at the floor. Edryd, unable to take it anymore, stepped forward.

“There’s no one to blame here. It was a misunderstanding. Just… a heated argument that got out of hand.”

“Since when have my granddaughters been so cowardly they need their cousin to speak for them?”

I’d always thought Grandfather was all smiles. But his anger now was near-blinding. They say the gentlest people, when roused, are the fiercest. I scratched my nails into the floorboards— Then Grandfather’s eyes slid past me to Sandora.

Just when I thought she’d stay quiet, she spoke.

“It wasn’t my fault.”

Mother’s breath hitched; Grandfather’s stare sharpened. He arched a brow.

“So it was Iyara’s, then?”

“Yes.”

That little witch. I shot her a glare over my shoulder.

“I didn’t do anything wrong either.”

Grandfather said nothing. Edryd, looking thoroughly exasperated, flopped onto the bed and covered his eyes.

Then, into the silence, Mother spoke.

“Not even boys would act like this…”

Mother’s quiet murmur hung in the air. The maids exchanged flustered glances, Grandfather waited for explanations that never came, Sandora stubbornly turned her head away, and I kept gouging lines into the floor with my nails.

“If no one admits fault, then we must determine it ourselves.”

He strode between us, gripping one of my arms and one of Sandora’s.

“Father—”

Mother tried to intervene, but Grandfather hauled us upright and marched us out of the bedroom. No one dared follow or protest—his expression brooked no argument.

“You two will one day shoulder the future of the Western territories. You may fight. You may even strike each other.”

We refused to look at one another as he dragged us along, though his back seemed to have eyes, cold and unyielding.

“But I will not tolerate those who refuse to acknowledge their mistakes. No remorse means no growth, and those who cannot grow will drag this family into ruin without hesitation.”

No one stopped him. We didn’t even know where he was taking us—though “dragging” was more accurate. Fear and regret twisted our faces, yet neither of us apologized. That, perhaps, angered him most.

Green light began to bloom around him. The wind brushed over our wounds, soothing them, and as if it understood, it lifted our steps. Without realizing, I was walking on air. The gathering green radiance pooled beneath my feet—and beneath Sandora’s. Slowly, we walked upon it, as though treading across the sky.

The light that Grandfather commanded guided us beyond the wall. And though I knew I should not, I could not help but be in awe. The green glow, like a field plowed from the sky itself, carried me over. The night sky poured down upon me. It felt as though the star-strewn heavens were a ceiling I could touch if I only reached up. It was a sight worth craning my head back until my neck ached.

Our destination soon came into view: a small hut. Encircled by low walls, the lone structure sat in a round patch of sunlight with no visible exit—none, unless you could scale the walls.

Grandfather set us down in its center. Just one hut, walls on all sides—likely some secluded place on the estate’s outskirts. Sitting in that green field, we could only stare up at him.