The Veiled Maidens
As the palace filled the coach window, Quinton attempted what he hoped would be an imperceptible head tilt to grant him a better view of his new home, enjoying how the breeze fluttered his veil against his cheek.
Absentmindedly, he wondered just how many of the Queen’s Veiled Maidens were really boys, or men. All of them? Just him?
The Matriarch snapped her attention to him. He could not see her eyes, but they bored into him regardless.
Quinton briefly bowed his head in penance, before returning to an attentive state.
The Matriarch’s gaze left him, but its memory lingered.
Written in response to Friday Fictioneers, a weekly 100-word writing challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Come and play along!
Thomas Charles Henry 
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