VI ※ Blindfolds Off, Secrets Exposed: A Princess' Guide to Heartache and Sarcasm

The carriage had barely come to a stop when I heard the scream pierce the air. The sound was sharp, desperate, and it set my nerves on edge. I could feel the tension building, the atmosphere growing heavy around me as I stood in place. I scoffed, unable to hold back the mocking tone in my voice. "Scaring her?" I sneered, the words dripping with sarcasm as I fixed my gaze on the source of the commotion. "Is she the one who's going to watch how she's going to die, or is it me?"

The silence that followed was immediate and oppressive. The kind of silence that feels like it's pressing down on you, suffocating you with its weight. Every breath seemed to hang in the air, suspended in time. Even the girl who had been sobbing in fear fell completely still. It was as if the entire world had paused, holding its breath in fear of what I might say next. The eyes of the others were fixed on me, their unspoken judgment piercing through the quiet, their fear palpable. "You are all full of bullshit, you know that? Full of fucking bullshit!" My words were like a burst of anger, a sudden release of all the frustration I had been holding in.

My hands were trembling with the energy of the moment, and I could feel the heat rising in my chest. It was too much. It was all too much. I reached up and pulled off the blindfold, throwing it aside without a second thought. The movement was sharp and deliberate, each motion filled with purpose. I stepped out of the carriage, my feet hitting the ground with a firm, steady step. The rough earth beneath me felt solid, unforgiving, grounding me in the moment. As I moved forward, I could hear the fearful gasps and small, terrified screams of those around me. It only made me more resolute.

"If you don't want me to see your deaths, then don't look at me in my fucking eyes!" I shouted, my voice ringing through the air, each word cutting through the tension like a blade. "Because I'm not using this damn thing again." My voice echoed, bouncing off the stone walls of the Palace as I took one last defiant look at the crowd before tossing the blindfold onto the ground. The sound of it hitting the dirt seemed to reverberate in the silence that followed. Without another word, I turned and made my way into the Palace, my footsteps echoing in the stillness.

Inside the Palace, the atmosphere was exactly as I had expected—tense, strained, and filled with avoidance. The moment I entered, the room seemed to shift. Every person I passed instinctively stepped aside, as though my presence alone was enough to make them wary. Their movements were quick and deliberate, avoiding me at all costs. I could feel their eyes on me, but they never met mine. It was as if they were all scared of what I might see, afraid that I would somehow know their secrets, their darkest fears.

When Dempsey, the King's personal assistant, appeared, I could tell immediately that he had heard the commotion outside. He was calm, professional, but there was an underlying wariness in his posture, a subtle nervousness in the way he avoided my gaze. He knew, just like the others, the power I possessed. He knew what I could do with just a glance. "The King and the Queen request your presence, Princess Nsomi D'Arcy," he said, his voice smooth and formal, but I could hear the tremor beneath the words.

I gave him a slight nod, keeping my face neutral, my emotions carefully hidden behind a mask of calm. "Thank you, Sir Dempsey. I came here to talk with them." The words left my lips with an air of finality, but the underlying tension in my voice betrayed me. He didn't ask me to put the blindfold back on, which told me everything I needed to know. He knew. He knew that I had already seen their deaths—years ago.

The truth of their fate was something I had known for a long time. They would die together, peacefully, in fifty-nine years. It would be a quiet, uneventful passing, surrounded by no one but each other. They had made me swear, as soon as I gained this cursed power, that I would never tell anyone what I saw. Even at the age of three, I wasn't foolish. I understood the consequences of defying them. They were the rulers, and they had the power to destroy me without a second thought if I disobeyed them. So, I kept their secret, just as they had demanded.

Anyone who's ever seen me after I glimpse someone's death knows the truth—it's impossible to hide. My eyes bleed. Blood tears streak down my face, an unmistakable sign of what I've witnessed. The moment I see a death, my eyes betray me. It was the same when Daisuke saw me that night. The night I saw Avyanna's death. He knew, somehow. He must have guessed what I had seen, and in his obsession with her, he pushed me to tell him. He tried everything to get me to speak, but I couldn't.

I wondered for a moment what Daisuke would think if he knew that I had also seen his parents' deaths and kept it to myself. What would he say? Would he hate me for it? Would he understand why I didn't tell him? The thought made a bitter smile curve my lips. It was a cruel joke, really.

Sir Dempsey led me through the long, silent halls of the Palace, his footsteps echoing off the marble floors. He spoke to everyone we passed, his voice low and stern, instructing them not to look at me. They all moved aside, as if they could feel the weight of my presence, as if my very gaze could cause their demise. It was absurd, ridiculous even, but I didn't bother arguing. I had long since stopped trying to explain myself to them.

As we reached the throne room, I stood before the Kingdom's rulers. My posture was formal, my movements calculated. I bowed, my head low in respect, but the moment felt hollow, empty. I knew they were watching me, analyzing me. For a full minute, neither of them spoke. The silence stretched on, heavy and thick, as they studied me with a strange intensity. Their eyes lingered on my face, on my eyes, perhaps searching for some sign of what I had seen, some indication that I knew their futures, their inevitable ends.

"Your Majesties," I said again, my voice quieter this time, a slight tremor in my tone as the silence lingered. It was a simple greeting, but it felt like a thousand emotions were caught in the words. The tension between us was palpable.

They were my best friend's parents—the people who had once given me a home, a sense of belonging when I had nothing. And yet, despite all they had done for me, there was a wound between us that could never heal. They had refused to let me attend Avyanna's funeral, a decision that still haunted me. I hadn't been able to say goodbye, to mourn her properly, and the pain of that loss had stayed with me all these years.

My breath hitched, a lump forming in my throat as memories of that day flooded back. The anger and sadness I had buried deep inside began to bubble to the surface. It burned through me, a fire I couldn't control. I clenched my teeth, fighting against the overwhelming emotions that threatened to consume me. I could feel the heat of it, the fury and the grief swirling inside me, pushing against the walls I had built to keep it in check.

But I couldn't let them see it. I couldn't let them see how much it hurt to stand in front of them, to face them, knowing the truth of what had happened. Especially the Queen. She looked so much like Avyanna—her face, her eyes, her smile. Every time I saw her, it was like looking at a ghost I could never reach, a reminder of everything I had lost.

So, I did what I always did. I looked down, my gaze falling to the floor, unable to meet their eyes any longer. I couldn't let them see the tears in my eyes, the raw, unfiltered pain that I was trying so hard to keep buried deep inside. It hurt too much to look at them, but I couldn't stop myself from feeling it. The anger, the grief—it was all too much.