Shattered Line

Chapter 19: Preparations

A loud racket wrecked the silence, disrupting her slumber.

Isla tossed and turned, folding the pillow over her ears. But the senseless knocking intensified, the steady beat increasing in tempo. What nightmare did she succumb to?

She peeked through heavy lids, the streams of light from half-shut shutters scalding. Kicking the covers off, she rolled, outstretching her hands to cushion her descent. Her knees bore the impact, slamming into the floor.

Stumbling to her feet, Isla shuffled towards the door. She grasped the cool brass door handle and positioned herself behind the obstruction. Releasing the chain, she inched the entryway open, peering out.

"Finally, Isla. What took you so long?" Layla chirped. A light blue sundress molded her frame, swaying at her ankles. The appearance paired alongside a silver pendant she thumbed.

She cocked her head before sealing the door. She returned the chain, locking the divide. Crossing her arms, she stared at the welcoming barrier. Why did her nightmare come alive?

"Isla, what the hell!" Layla restarted her banging. "Open the door," she yelled.

Isla slapped her face, rubbing her swollen eyes and dried tear marks. Her hand slid upwards, combing her hair. Fingers caught the knots and she pulled the strands, untangling them. Her head throbbed at the continuous pounding, the pressure building at her forehead's peak.

Swinging the door open revealed a splendid pout. "Can't you just go away?"

"Where's the fun in that?" Layla pushed forward, bypassing Isla and claimed her bed.

"This isn't meant to be fun."

"You know, Isla. If you become Queen, we'll be around all the time. Do you plan to continue shutting the door in our face, or running from a conversation?"

Leaning against the doorframe, Isla glared. "You make it easy. Prison? Exile? Execution? Choose your pick."

Her mouth dropped open. "You know that will never happen. You'll be like our father. You'll hate yourself!"

"A small price to pay for an eternity of peace, wouldn't you say?"

Layla groaned. "Gosh, Isla. You make everything so dramatic."

"And you fail to see your own impact. Now, isn't that fun?"

Layla collapsed backward and kicked her legs. "You are a pain," she whined.

"Glad we see each other the same way. What do you want?"

She perked up, showcasing a peerless smile. "Let's go out."

Isla sighed. "Why?"

"Don't you remember yesterday, at all?"

Clenching her fists, Isla scowled. "Are you serious?"

"Wait, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that," she stammered, "I meant our conversation, remember? I talked about introducing you to those mercenaries. Their boss should be around today. And then we can buy new clothes for you and get lunch. It'll be fun!"

"Believable," Isla mocked.

"We'll see about that. Now, will you come willingly or do I drag you?"

Isla paused her derisive retort. If she continued this banter, would Layla leave? She knew the answer. Inhaling to full capacity, she released the air alongside her tension. "Fine. Let's get this over with."

Layla jumped to her feet, her dress flaring out. "Thank you for giving, this once. I promise being with me won't be so terrible."

She followed her sister down the stairs. The musty odor coating the living area transposed to fresh mint as she stepped outside. Light streams swept from a pocket of clouds, the glimmer bleaching the gray-toned sky.