* * *

The King of Veldam, a young man with blond hair and a golden mask, presided over the welcoming ceremony in a grand hall filled with Veldam’s esteemed nobles. Laughter and music echoed off the cold stone walls. Amidst the revelry, Malyn sat quietly with her hands clasped together.

Unlike in Dion, where food was piled high at the center of the table for everyone to share, Veldam served each person their own plate. At first, Malyn thought that, for a wealthy country, they seemed rather stingy. But she soon realized her mistake—a continuous flow of dishes, each made from rare and precious ingredients, was brought before her.

Out of the corner of her eye, Malyn glanced at the King sitting beside her, his chin resting on his hand. Tradition dictated that he was forbidden to remove his golden mask until he heard the cry of his firstborn. Rumour had it that if he ever removed the mask, everyone in the vicinity would cough up blood and perish. Perhaps that was why none of the nobles in the hall dared look at him directly; they stole brief, cautious glances. No one really looked at him. The sight was both bizarre and disturbing.

Malyn couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if she approached him and took off the mask. She had no intention of doing so – apparently she valued her life more than her curiosity.

It made sense, after all. She was the type who had run to save herself, even if it meant leaving her mother behind. Malyn stared blankly at the tablecloth in front of her. It was clearly made of silk, spun from the innards of insects—so fine that even noble ladies in Dion couldn’t dream of owning such a luxury. And here it was, used merely as a tablecloth. Veldam truly was a wealthy and powerful country.

“What are you looking at like that?”

A deep voice startled Malyn and she jumped, almost looking up at the King before quickly remembering that she wasn’t supposed to look directly at him. She lowered her gaze, taking in the golden mask that covered him from forehead to just below his nose, leaving only the area around his mouth exposed, presumably to make breathing easier. A thick beard, the same blonde as his hair, hung below his chin. Through the beard she could see his red lips curled in a playful smile.

“Your name is Layla, isn’t it?”

Malyn nodded. She noticed people around them stealing glances in their direction. Hopefully, he wouldn’t command her to warm his bed right away. The King looked her up and down and then spoke.

“As I’ve done before, I will not take you as my queen immediately.”

“…Yes.”

“You will only become the queen of Veldam after you bear my child.”

“Yes.”

That was all the King said. Soon a black-haired woman approached him, and from the murmurs around her Malyn understood that this was the King’s lover. The King wrapped an arm around the woman’s waist and together they disappeared behind the curtain.

The rumours that the King took a different maid to bed every night were probably exaggerated. In truth, the King of Veldam had only one lover – the black-haired woman Malyn had just seen at the banquet. She had been a singer in the theatre at Veldam Castle before catching the King’s eye and becoming his chosen companion.

There had been a second lover until recently, but she had fallen ill and passed away. She was said to have been a noblewoman. When Malyn asked why she had fallen ill, the maids averted their eyes and avoided answering.

“Well, we do not know either.”

“I see.”

Malyn replied calmly, though she wasn’t entirely convinced. There had to be a reason; it was just hard to say out loud. And Malyn knew too little to guess why the woman had fallen ill. Meanwhile, the King’s maids filled Malyn in on everything she needed to know before she was summoned to the King’s chambers.

“There is a golden hawk statue in His Majesty’s chambers, much like the one in your own chambers, Princess. Keep your eyes on it at all times.”

The head maid of Veldam addressed Malyn with a stern expression. Malyn was already familiar with the hawk statue the maid mentioned. Her chambers consisted of a large room with an adjoining sitting area, a bathroom and a powder room. But of all the furnishings, the golden hawk statue stood out the most, shining brightly and catching her eye the moment she entered.

“Why is that?”

“To avoid accidentally glimpsing the inside of His Majesty’s mask.”

“Ah.”

She had suspected it, but hadn’t expected it to be true. Malyn nodded slowly, and the head maid continued with a few more instructions: first, not to touch the King’s body; second, to obey the King’s orders without question. As she discussed the second point, the head maid added something with grave seriousness.

“His Majesty has worn his mask for a long time and occasionally complains of feeling suffocated. However, you must never, under any circumstances, touch the mask.”

She then recalled the story of a maid who, out of concern, had tried to adjust the King’s mask, only to end up as food for the King’s hunting dog. The head maid repeated several times that Malyn must never touch the mask.

So, Malyn was to obey whatever the King commanded, except anything involving the mask. She etched this rule firmly into her mind, grumbling inwardly at the strictness of it all.

The King’s chamber was indeed a room fit for the wealthy ruler of Veldam, and the level of opulence was beyond imagination. It was three times the size of Malyn’s own chamber, with an enormous bed, luxurious chandeliers, lavish decorations and a fireplace so large that ten people would have to surround it.

The carpet on the floor was indigo. Indigo! Malyn, who had once worked briefly for a dyer, knew how rare and precious this colour was. The dye was both toxic and difficult to work with, and the deep shade required ground gems, making it extremely expensive.

Malyn wanted to linger and take in the grandeur of the room, but the maids who had escorted her quickly tidied the bed and helped her settle down. She lay on her back, keeping her gaze fixed on the golden hawk statue positioned to the left of the bed.

“Your name is Malyn, correct? Go on and tend to the princess; check her bedding.”

The head maid instructed curtly.

The Malyn she was calling was clearly Layla. Layla approached the bed at a steady pace and positioned herself between Malyn and the golden hawk statue, leaning over to adjust the covers.

Their eyes naturally met. Malyn smiled slightly.

“Don’t tremble; you’re not the one who has to lie down here. Why are you shaking so much?”

Layla flinched, glancing down at her hands. Her long, slender fingers were trembling as they held the blanket—something she hadn’t even noticed herself. Malyn considered asking what was behind that expression but instead simply pulled the blanket up to her shoulders. The blanket slipped naturally from Layla’s fingers as she did so.

Yet, instead of leaving, Layla kept her gaze fixed on Malyn. Though only a brief moment, it felt strangely prolonged. Malyn stared back at her blankly, and after a moment, Layla softly whispered.

“…I’m sorry.”

Malyn responded with a bright smile. 

“Your tone is quite insolent.”