Chapter 6

Syria’s POV

"And where have you been, huh?!"

The moment I stepped through the door, her voice sliced through the air like a knife.

Sharp, cold, and unmistakable.

It was a tone I’d grown all too familiar with over the years, one that made my stomach twist in a way I could never quite explain.

"Good morning, Novene," I said, keeping my tone light, almost casual. "You look well."

Of course, I wasn't dumb enough to expect her to greet me back.

I already knew she was angry. After all, I did make a scene at her wedding. In front of everybody.

Honestly, I knew this was going to be a confrontation. She had every right to be furious with me, and I wasn't even looking to fight her over it. But now? I didn't want any more drama right then. My head was still reeling from all the craziness. I just wanted to make it to my room and close the door. Be alone. Avoid all the chaos.

And besides, I do feel bruised down there.

I tried to turn away from her, intending to go upstairs.

But before I had gone more than two steps, she caught my hair, tight.

"Ouch!" I cried out, totally caught off guard as she pulled me back with such strength that I nearly staggered.

Then she pulled again, tightening her fingers.

"Tell me!" she yelled. "Why did you destroy my wedding?! Why?!"

She continued to shake my head as if she wanted to break my neck.

"That stings!" I yelled back, gasping in pain.

She didn't care.

"Please," I said, not raising my voice. "I genuinely don’t know what you mean." I blinked at her, my tone steady but unreadable.

I pretended to be confused, as if I hadn't a clue what she meant. I already knew what she was angry about, but I was going to give her the truth on a platter. I had created enough drama. Now, I wanted to turn things around and make her doubt everything.

She wasn't falling for it.

"Oh, really?" she snapped, and her tone dripped with sarcasm. "You don't remember? Then what the hell is this?!"

Before I could answer, she spun and snap her fingers.

"Maid!"

The canvas painting clattered onto the floor with a thud. The sound resonated down the hallway. I stood stock still, eyes tracking the canvas as it landed on the ground, exposing the artwork that I had done.

She glared at me, face white with anger.

Why did you paint such a gross picture?!" she yelled. "Do you know how embarrassing that was? My mate's family saw it! You made me look like a total idiot! This is your damn fault! I will never forgive you for this!"

I kept my expression soft, letting confusion cloud my features. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about, Novene,” I said quietly, my voice steady but calm.

"I didn't paint that. Someone else must have swapped the canvas."

"You little liar!" she screamed.

She placed her hand close to slapping me in the face. Her whole body trembled with anger, and for a brief moment, I honestly believed she was going to strike me.

But just as her hand made contact with my cheek, a booming voice interrupted the silence.

"Novene, that's enough!"

It was firm. Authoritative. Almost… threatening.

We both stopped in our tracks.

Novene's hand fell through the air, her face changing in an instant. She looked over my shoulder and immediately retreated a step. Her fingers released my hair, and her scowl relaxed, but only minimally. She was still obviously angry, but now she was surprised.

I swiveled slowly, attempting to keep my cool, although that voice had caused me to shiver.

I wasn't sure whether I should be relieved or anxious.

"Father, it was Syria! She destroyed my wedding! She—"

“Enough!” Uncle’s voice rang out sharply, making both of us freeze. He stood abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. “Is this how you behave after disgracing yourself in front of your husband’s family?!”

Uncle never shouts, but when he increased his delivery like this, everyone knew not to test him further.

Uncle turned to look at me. His eyes soften, yet he didn't speak to Novene anymore after that. The silence was sufficient to indicate that he wasn't siding with her.

Then he asked, “Where were you last night, Syria? Why didn’t you return after the wedding?”

I turned around to my uncle. “She had me locked in the guest room to finish the portrait,” I said plainly. “No one came to unlock the door until the wedding was already over.”

"She's lying!" Novene snapped, advancing, her voice growing louder once more. "That isn't what happened! She got away and destroyed the wedding after! I imprisoned her, but she escaped and—"

"Enough!" Uncle stopped her once more, sharper this time.

Then he glared at her.

"So, you're confessing to having locked your cousin in a room?!" he asked dangerously, his words heavy with intensity.

Novene went cold. Her face lost its color.

She paused, looked around the floor with her eyes, and I saw the instant she knew she'd made a mistake. She opened her mouth, but no sound escaped.

There was silence for a couple of seconds, then she said something that made me froze in anger.

"There were a lot of people attending the ceremony," she said. "I don't know who pulled a prank or who set Syria loose. It wasn't me."

Liar!

My fists tightened at my sides, but I kept them still. I said nothing. Let her dig her own grave with lies.

But before I could do anything, the door creaked open and a servant entered.

"I apologize for intruding," she said politely, curtsying slightly. "But Miss Violet has come."

Violet?

Violet was my childhood best friend. But beyond that, her family was highly ranked in the tribe. Uncle always urged me to spend more time with her, he considered her a good influence.

I noticed how quickly Uncle’s face softened the moment Violet stepped in. He even stood to face her, something he rarely did for anyone.

Of course, her family held weight in the tribe. Uncle had always been eager to stay in their good graces.

"Help her in," he said hastily.

Violet entered a few moments later, appearing as elegant and assured as ever. Her arrival infused the room with a new sort of energy. She saw me immediately and approached.

"Syria!" she smiled warmly. "How are you?"

I managed a little smile. "I'm fine," I told her.

She hugged me tightly.

She pulled back and looked into my eyes, then held my hand tenderly.

Turning to Uncle, she asked, “Is it okay if I take Syria with me for a while?”

Uncle nodded, but his eyes flicked to me. He didn’t say a word, but the message was clear.

‘Behave. Don’t cause more trouble.’

His gaze followed me like a warning, reminding me that I was still under his roof and under his control.

I nodded silently, understanding the message.

Violet lightly squeezed my hand and smiled once more, as though she picked up on the quiet exchange.

"Come on," she said softly. "Let's leave."

I left with her.