Viel of shame

The announcement of my betrothal to Prince Caius of Eldoria had cast a fragile veil of hope over the worried faces of the court. The kingdom seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief, their future queen seemingly embracing a path of stability and alliance. But beneath the surface of forced smiles and polite congratulations, the darkness within me continued to stir, fueled by unsettling dreams and the persistent, insidious pull of iron.

Barely a week after the announcement, a royal messenger announced the unexpected arrival of Prince Caius. Papa, looking genuinely pleased, greeted the young prince in the grand receiving hall.

“Prince Caius! A pleasant surprise,” Papa boomed, extending a welcoming hand. “We weren’t expecting you so soon.”

Caius clasped Papa’s hand, his smile radiating genuine warmth. “Your Majesty, the journey from Eldoria was smooth. And if I may be so bold, I found myself… eager to spend time with my soon-to-be wife.” He offered a charming smile, and Papa’s eyes twinkled with approval.

“Indeed, a commendable sentiment!” Papa chuckled, clapping Caius on the shoulder. “Isla will be delighted. Isla!” Papa called out, his voice echoing through the hall.

I approached, my heart doing a nervous flutter. Caius turned, his kind eyes lighting up as he saw me. He was even more handsome in person, his presence exuding a quiet confidence.

“Princess Isla,” he said, his voice a warm melody, bowing with graceful formality. “It is a pleasure to finally have this opportunity.”

“Prince Caius,” I replied, managing a polite curtsy, a faint blush rising on my cheeks. For a fleeting moment, his genuine interest in me offered a sliver of hope, a possibility of a life beyond the encroaching shadows.

“I was hoping we might venture beyond the palace walls today, Princess,” Caius continued, his gaze gentle. “I know a rather quaint fragrance store in the city, one that captures the very essence of Equedore’s blooming flora. Would you be amenable?”

A hesitant smile touched my lips. A day away from the oppressive grandeur of the palace, a chance to experience something normal, felt like a breath of fresh air. “That sounds… lovely, Prince Caius.”

The store was a sensory haven, filled with delicate glass bottles releasing intoxicating bouquets of floral and spice. Caius was an attentive companion, his laughter light and easy as we sampled various scents. He listened with genuine interest as I spoke of my favorite blooms in the royal gardens, sharing anecdotes about the unique flora of Eldora. For a while, the oppressive weight within me seemed to lessen, replaced by a fragile sense of connection. His kind gaze often met mine, and a warmth bloomed in my chest, a feeling I hadn’t allowed myself to experience fully in weeks. Perhaps, I thought fleetingly, there could be happiness in this arranged union.

Then, my gaze fell upon a perfume bottle nestled amongst the delicate crystal. Its shape was unusual, almost severe, encased in a filigree of dark, intricately wrought metal. An involuntary tremor ran through me. The familiar, brutal clang slammed into my skull, not as deafening as before, but sharp and insistent, like a diabolical bell tolling just for me. My fingertips tingled, the edges feeling strange… pointed. A thick, viscous saliva suddenly flooded my mouth, an animalistic response that horrified me.

Caius, who had been mid-sentence describing a rare Eldorian spice, stopped abruptly, his smile fading into concern. “Princess Isla? Are you alright? You’ve gone quite pale.” His hand reached out instinctively, hovering near my arm.

I recoiled slightly, a wave of nausea washing over me. “Forgive me, Prince Caius,” I stammered, my voice trembling. “I… I suddenly feel a bit unwell. If you’ll excuse me for a moment…”

I turned abruptly and fled towards the back of the store, blindly searching for a washroom. The ringing in my ears intensified, a chaotic symphony of dread. I stumbled into a small, dimly lit lavatory, my reflection staring back at me from a tarnished mirror above a cracked porcelain sink.

My breath hitched. My pupils were dilated, and a strange, predatory gleam shone in my eyes. My fingernails, I noticed with a jolt of terror, were indeed longer, sharper, almost claw-like. As I stared at my distorted reflection, a hairline crack snaked across the surface of the mirror, right through my image, as if something within me was shattering the very reality I perceived. It wasn’t a natural crack; it seemed… deliberate, malevolent. The ringing in my head reached a fever pitch, a diabolical laughter echoing in the confines of my skull.

Panic seized me. I had to get out, had to get back to Caius, had to pretend everything was normal. Taking a shaky breath, I smoothed down my dress and forced a weak smile before opening the door.

Caius was waiting just outside, his handsome face etched with worry. “Princess Isla! Are you alright? You were gone for quite some time.”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine,” I lied, the words feeling brittle and false. “Just a momentary… dizziness. It passed quickly.”

His concern didn’t lessen. “Are you sure? You still look pale. Perhaps we should head back to the palace? We can continue our outing another day.” His kindness felt like a sharp contrast to the monstrous changes I felt stirring within.

“No, no, I’m quite alright now,” I insisted, too afraid to be alone with these terrifying transformations. “Perhaps we could just… purchase that lovely floral scent you were describing?”

Caius still looked doubtful, but he nodded slowly. As we approached the counter, the cashier, a cheerful woman with bright eyes, wrapped our chosen perfumes with practiced ease. We reached the front of the store, a simple archway acting as the exit when two burly security guards, their faces grim, came running towards us. “Your Majesties! Forgive us! The alarm… something must be wrong.” One of them stammered, bowing deeply.

Caius looked bewildered. “Wrong? Where?...”

Before he could finish, the second guard, his gaze fixed on my satchel, spoke with a hesitant but firm tone. “With all due respect, Your Highnesses, protocol dictates we must ensure everything is in order. The alarm was triggered by the cashier as you approached the exit. Would you permit a quick check of your bags, Princess Isla?”

My blood ran cold. My hand instinctively went to the strap of my satchel, the weight of the metal-encased perfume bottle suddenly a damning accusation. Confusion warred with a rising tide of panic and a chilling certainty that something sinister was at play.

Caius looked surprised, then a little annoyed. “Surely that’s unnecessary. The Princess would never…”

But the guard’s gaze remained fixed on my bag, his expression unwavering. Trapped, exposed, and with the diabolical ringing now a frantic hammering in my ears, I could only stammer, my carefully constructed facade crumbling around me. “I… I don’t… I don’t understand…”

The guard's hand trembled slightly as he unclasped my satchel. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drum against the suffocating silence. Then, there it was. The perfume bottle. Its dark, twisted metal seemed to gleam accusingly in the dim light of the store. A wave of nausea washed over me.

A choked sound escaped Prince Caius. His usually kind eyes were wide with disbelief as he stared from the bottle to my face. "Princess... Isla... I... I don't understand," he whispered, the warmth gone from his voice, replaced by a bewildered confusion that mirrored my own.

My head swam with shame. I wanted the ground to swallow me whole. A deep frown furrowed my brow, a physical manifestation of the turmoil inside. The awful clang in my head had finally faded, leaving behind only a hollow, echoing emptiness.

"There... there must be some mistake," Caius stammered, turning to the guards, his face flushed a deep crimson. He fumbled for his coin pouch. "Please, allow me to... to pay for this. How much?" His forced composure was fragile, and I could feel the weight of his embarrassment.

The cashier, her earlier smile wiped clean, quoted the price. Caius paid quickly, his movements were jerky and unnatural. The guards mumbled apologies, their eyes darting nervously between us. The whole scene felt surreal, a mortifying play unfolding in slow motion.

The ride back to the palace was a suffocating silence. The open air of the vehicle, which I usually enjoyed, now felt cold and exposed. Caius sat stiffly beside me, his gaze fixed straight ahead, a deep line etched between his brows. He looked… hurt. And I didn't blame him.

Tears welled in my eyes, blurring the edges of the familiar streets. I bit down hard on my lip, trying to swallow the sobs that threatened to erupt. But the shame was a physical weight, crushing me. The confusion, the terrifying certainty that something was fundamentally wrong with me… it was too much. Silent tears spilled down my cheeks, hot and stinging against my skin. Each one felt like a fresh wave of humiliation.

Finally, Caius shifted beside me. "Princess Isla..." he began, his voice soft, hesitant. A hand, gentle and questioning, reached towards my arm.

I flinched, pulling away as if burned. I couldn't bear his kindness, his bewildered concern. It only amplified the monstrous feeling inside me. I buried my face in my hands, my shoulders shaking uncontrollably. The soft voice of the radio person in the car was the only sound that filled the suffocating space, a steady beat against the frantic rhythm of my breaking heart. The vibrant city, usually a source of wonder, was now just a hazy blur through the film of my tears – a witness to my inexplicable shame.