CHAPTER 6: Those masked eyes
815 Words
The carriage wheels rolled steadily over the uneven road, the sound of hooves echoing through the quiet forest path.
Sophie sat still inside, her hands folded tightly on her lap.
The journey had been silent for hours.
Emily was not allowed to sit inside with her; she rode in a smaller carriage behind. The guards surrounded Sophie’s carriage closely.
Everything felt tense.
Too quiet.
And Sophie had learned one thing in life —
Silence before something bad is never peaceful.
Suddenly—
“Stop the carriage!”
The horses neighed sharply as the carriage jerked forward before coming to an abrupt halt. Sophie grabbed the side of the seat to steady herself.
Shouting erupted outside.
Metal clashing against metal.
Screams.
Her heart began to pound.
Bandits.
She closed her eyes briefly.
She had heard of such attacks before. A princess traveling between kingdoms was a moving treasure. Kidnap her, demand ransom, threaten the king.
It was common.
Cruel.
But common.
The carriage door was yanked open violently.
Rough hands grabbed the fabric of her gown and pulled her halfway out.
“Worth more alive,” one of the men growled.
Sophie struggled, but she knew fighting blindly would only exhaust her.
Through the chaos, she saw it clearly —
Most of her guards were already on the ground.
Still.
Blood staining their uniforms.
These were not random thieves.
They moved in coordination.
Trained fighters.
This was planned.
She was in a death-to-death situation.
Taken hostage… or killed.
One of the bandits stepped forward, drawing his sword slowly. The metal reflected the afternoon light.
He aimed directly at her chest.
For a split second, Sophie thought of her mother.
Run and don’t look back.
But this time—
There was nowhere to run.
The sword came down.
And then—
Clang!
The blade was struck away mid-air with such force that it spun from the bandit’s hand.
Everyone froze.
A figure stood behind them.
Dressed in dark clothing.
Face covered by a black mask.
Silent.
Before anyone could react, the masked man moved.
Not recklessly.
Precisely.
His sword flashed through the air — swift, controlled, deadly. One bandit fell. Then another. No wasted movement. No hesitation.
Sophie watched in stunned silence.
He fought like someone who had nothing to prove.
Like someone used to violence.
Within moments, most of the bandits were on the ground. The remaining few exchanged terrified glances before retreating into the forest.
Cowards.
Silence returned, broken only by the weak groans of injured guards.
The masked man stood still for a moment, his back facing Sophie.
He did not speak.
Did not turn.
“Wait—” Sophie found herself saying before she could stop it.
He paused.
Slowly, he turned slightly.
For a brief second, their eyes met through the narrow opening of his mask.
Cold.
Not cruel.
Just… distant.
Her breath caught.
It was the same feeling.
The same presence from her dreams.
Before she could say another word, he stepped back.
And disappeared into the trees.
Just like that.
No name.
No explanation.
No gratitude accepted.
Gone.
“My princess!” one of the remaining guards stumbled toward her, holding his wounded arm. “Are you harmed?”
Sophie blinked, forcing herself back to reality.
“I am fine,” she said, steadying her voice.
She stepped down from the carriage carefully, her white gown slightly stained from the struggle.
“Attend to the injured first,” she commanded. “We march to the palace immediately. Those still alive must receive treatment.”
The guard nodded weakly.
Even shaken, she carried herself like royalty.
They reached King Richard’s palace by late afternoon.
The structure stood tall and imposing against the golden sky. Larger than her father’s palace. Colder too.
The gates opened.
Servants lined up formally.
But something felt… off.
No one rushed forward in alarm at the sight of injured guards.
No one questioned the blood.
No one asked what had happened.
As if this was normal.
As if attacks were expected.
As if her life being threatened was routine.
Sophie stepped down from the carriage slowly.
Her eyes scanned the palace entrance.
No warm welcome.
No concern.
Only observation.
She did not feel angry.
She felt aware.
So this is how it will be.
Not cherished.
Not protected.
Just tolerated.
A servant approached and bowed slightly. “Welcome, Princess Sophie. His Majesty King Richard awaits you inside.”
No mention of the prince.
No mention of the attack.
Nothing.
Sophie inhaled slowly.
The masked man’s eyes flashed briefly in her mind again.
Who was he?
Why did he save her?
And why did his presence feel so familiar?
As she stepped into the grand palace hall, the heavy doors closing behind her with a deep echo—
She could not shake one unsettling thought.
What if…
The man behind the mask…
Was not a stranger at all?
- Writer
