A Royal Obligation
Chapter 38: Unveiling Shadows (1)

Chapter 38: Unveiling Shadows (1)

The meal had ended, and the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the garden pavilion. Darren leaned back in his chair, his satisfied expression mirroring the contentment that had settled over the group. "This has been nice," he said, glancing at Eirik with a sincerity that was hard to miss. "I hope we can do it again sometime."

Eirik returned the smile, a genuine warmth in his expression that surprised even him. "I’d like that," he replied, and he meant it. Despite the uncertainties of his future, there was something comforting in the idea of forming bonds, of having allies in this foreign land. The camaraderie that had developed between him and the cousins was unexpected but welcome, a glimmer of hope in what had otherwise been a daunting situation.

As they stood to leave, Lysander clapped Eirik on the back, the friendly gesture solidifying the growing rapport between them. "Don’t be a stranger, Eirik," he said with a grin that seemed to light up his entire face. "You’ve got friends here, whether you like it or not."

Eirik couldn’t help but chuckle at that, the tension that had been his constant companion since arriving in Zephyros easing slightly. As they parted ways, with the cousins heading off in one direction and Eirik and Sadiki beginning the walk back to Eirik’s chambers, the events of the day played over in Eirik’s mind. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of optimism, something he hadn’t felt since he heard about his marriage to Prince Kaelix.

Zephyros was still a land of mysteries, of dangers and uncertainties, but it might also a place of potential, of new beginnings. The day’s events had been far from what he had expected. Lysander and Darren, Kaelix’s cousins, had shown him a different side of Zephyros, one that was warm, welcoming, and even enjoyable.

Their tour of the palace had been both enlightening and refreshing. They had guided him through the grand hallways, past intricate paintings and luxurious rooms, their easy banter and genuine curiosity about Eirik helping to ease the tension he’d been carrying since his arrival. But it was the library that had truly captured Eirik’s heart.

The library, with its towering shelves filled with ancient tomes and the scent of old parchment and leather, had been a refuge, a place where Eirik felt an instant connection. The grandeur of the library was undeniable, but what Eirik had appreciated most was the promise it held: a sanctuary where he could lose himself in knowledge, far from the prying eyes and the political games of the court. He had promised himself that he would return to the library first thing tomorrow morning, eager to immerse himself in its treasures.

But now, as he walked through the quiet corridors of the palace, the weight of his past began to press down on him. The familiar tension of the palace, with its cold stone walls and the ever-present sense of being watched, was still there, but it was dulled now, softened by the warmth of the interactions he’d shared today. Still, the calm that had settled over him was fragile, easily disrupted by the memories that lurked just beneath the surface.

As they passed by a group of servants and guards, Eirik noticed something different. Their gazes weren’t as curious or lingering as they had been before. The initial shock of seeing him without his veil was fading, and with it, the stares were becoming less frequent. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

Eirik had made the decision to unveil his face here, in this foreign land, because he knew that to continue hiding would only serve to isolate him further. He needed the people to see him, to get used to him without a veil obstructing his face. And it seemed, at least for now, that his plan was working.

But as they neared his chambers, the memories he had tried so hard to keep at bay began to surface, their intensity catching him off guard. It had been years since he had last thought about the incident that had driven him to wear the veil, but the events of the day had brought those memories rushing back with a force that was impossible to ignore.

Eirik felt the familiar weight of those memories pressing against his mind, the images and emotions swirling in a dark, chaotic storm. The shadows of his past began to encroach on the present, and he knew there was no avoiding them now. They had been waiting, lurking in the corners of his mind, ready to strike when he was most vulnerable.

The memory of that night, years ago, when he was nearly taken.

It had been a night like any other, or so he had thought. The palace had been quiet, the air cool with the promise of a coming storm. He had been in his chambers, preparing for bed, when the door had creaked open. At first, he had thought it was one of the servants, come to attend to him as they always did. But the figure that stepped into the room was not a servant.

The man had been a stranger, someone Eirik had never seen before. He had moved quickly, silently, crossing the room in a few long strides. Before Eirik could react, before he could even cry out, the man had grabbed him, one hand clamping over his mouth, the other pinning his arms to his sides.

Eirik had struggled, panic flooding his veins like ice, but the man was too strong. He had been dragged to the bed, thrown down onto the mattress with a force that had knocked the breath from his lungs. The man’s eyes had been dark, filled with something twisted, something that made Eirik’s blood run cold.

The man’s grip had been like iron, his breath hot and foul against Eirik’s skin as he whispered dark promises of what he would do to him, of how he would keep Eirik locked away, hidden from the world, to be his and his alone.

Eirik remembered the tone, the sickeningly sweet promise in the man’s voice. And then there had been pain, sharp and blinding, as the man had forced him down. Eirik had never known such terror. He had fought with everything he had, but the man had been stronger, his grip tightening, his intentions clear and horrifying.

Just when it had seemed that all hope was lost, that the man would have his way with him, the door was burst open.

The Warcrest Sentinels, his uncle’s personal guards, had appeared as if from nowhere, their swords flashing in the dim light. The man had been dragged away, his grip torn from Eirik’s body, and in the chaos that followed, Eirik had found himself curled up on the floor, shaking, unable to breathe.

It had been his uncle who had found him, who had gathered him up in his arms and held him as he wept, the terror finally breaking free. His uncle had been gentle, his voice soft, but there had been a hardness in his eyes, a rage that Eirik had never seen before.

Eirik would never forget the look in the man’s eyes as he tried to have his way with him, nor the cold, detached way in which the Sentinels had dealt with him. They had taken him away, their faces expressionless, as if they had done nothing more than remove a piece of dirt from the palace grounds.

From that day forward, Eirik had never been without a veil, his beauty hidden from the world, a barrier between him and those who might see him as nothing more than a prize to be taken.

The veil had become his protection against unwanted attention that his appearance always brought.

It was his way of controlling the narrative, of keeping others at a distance. A way to prevent anyone from seeing too much, from getting too close.

But it was also a reminder of his vulnerability, of the fact that no matter how much power he had, there were still those who would seek to take it from him, to control him.

His family had tried to persuade him that it wasn’t necessary, that he didn’t need to hide, but Eirik hadn’t listened. He had been too afraid, too scarred by the memory of what had almost happened.

But now, here in Zephyros, Eirik had made the decision to show his face again. It had been a difficult choice. He had known that to continue hiding would only serve to isolate him further, to mark him as different, as something to be feared or pitied. And Eirik didn’t want to be pitied. He wanted to be seen, to be understood, to be known for more than just his beauty.

The decision to unveil had been a way of reclaiming his power, of showing the world that he was no longer afraid.

But as he walked through the palace now, the memories of that day still haunting him, Eirik wondered if he had made the right choice. Was he truly ready to face the world without the veil, to let go of the fear that had gripped him for so long? Or was he just fooling himself, pretending to be stronger than he really was?