The Girl Behind the Veil
The sun spilled gold upon the marble floors of Eldoria’s eastern wing, casting long shadows across the corridor where Princess Althea stood, waiting. Her hands were folded neatly in front of her, sleeves brushed and gown pressed. Still, no matter how still she stood, how proper she appeared, the maids avoided her gaze. They always did.
“Her Highness is waiting for you in the garden,” the steward said flatly, without bowing. “Do not keep the queen waiting, Princess.”
Althea nodded. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Her voice—gentle and unsure—rarely filled the halls of this palace. It was as if the walls themselves had been taught not to echo her.
She walked silently through the arched doors leading to the queen’s garden, where roses bloomed in disciplined rows, their stems trimmed to perfection, their thorns sharp and deliberate. Just like her mother.
Queen Celene sat beneath the rose archway, embroidery hoop in hand, surrounded by two noblewomen whose laughter stopped the moment Althea stepped into view. The Queen didn’t look up.
“You’re late,” she said coolly.
“I came as soon as I was summoned,” Althea replied, dipping into a practiced curtsy.
The queen’s eyes lifted at last—ice blue and unreadable. “You look pale. Did you not sleep?”
“I was up reading the reports from—”
“Of course. Wasting time on things above your station. No prince will marry a girl with ink-stained fingers.”
The noblewomen tittered.
Althea bowed her head, hiding the flicker of pain behind her eyes.
“Go sit. Don’t embarrass me with your posture,” the queen snapped.
She obeyed, settling quietly on the edge of the stone bench, letting the birdsong and soft rustle of leaves distract her from the sting. She didn’t expect warmth from her mother. She hadn’t in years.
Only Kael—her brother, her only friend—saw her for what she truly was.
That evening, as the halls dimmed with twilight and the torches flickered to life, she heard his voice before she saw him.
“Althea!”
She turned as Prince Kael strode toward her—armor half-removed, his black cloak dusted with dirt from training. His presence alone lit up something within her.
“You missed supper again,” he said, brows furrowed.
“I wasn’t hungry.”
He frowned. “They said Mother summoned you.”
She nodded, looking away. “It was... brief.”
He was silent for a moment, then reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Come with me. I saved you something sweet from the kitchens.”
She blinked. “You did?”
“I always do.” He smiled gently. “You’re the only one who never asks for anything.”
Her lips curved ever so slightly. With Kael, she didn’t need to pretend.
In the quiet of his chambers, away from judging eyes and bitter tongues, they shared honeyed pastries by the fire. He told her stories from the barracks, from the stables, of how the hound pups were growing too fat, and how one of the knights had fallen off his horse mid-duel.
She laughed—genuinely—and for a moment, she wasn’t just the forgotten daughter of Eldoria.
She was Althea, and she was loved.
But even Kael’s warmth couldn’t protect her forever. Outside, in the shadowed halls, the wind carried whispers of war and alliances.
And somewhere beyond Eldoria’s high walls, fate stirred.
Waiting.
Watching.
Preparing to pull Althea from the veil she had always hidden behind.
