With love, Spain

II.

In the morning I got up, cleaned my face, asked to be dressed in elegant clothes, but not heavy, given the heat of the place, and to comb my hair with a simple bow. I went down for a light breakfast and decided to explore the rest of the place.

It was not a building like the typical castles that you see throughout Europe, but the house was large, spacious and it was still being expanded to make it look like a property according to the luxury and status of its residents. we could say that it simply fulfilled its function. A butler invited me to walk through the gardens, but the sun and sweltering heat invited me to stay inside it, sheltered and cool.

I was walking calmly down one of the corridors, with my hands behind my back and arrogance on my face, looking outside through the tall windows, when out of the corner of my eye I noticed a small figure that appeared in a corner and hid as soon as it saw me.

Curious and with nothing better to do, I tiptoed to the corner where the boy had hidden. I rounded the corner, but there was no sign of the infant, I thought maybe I had imagined it until I heard a small murmur running mischievously down the hall. Even more intrigued, I followed the small sound until I came to a room with an old and neglected door.

Do you know the saying that curiosity killed the cat? Well, in my case, it was more like a bullfight, where the animal expects to see something behind the billowing cloth and ends up with its sword in its side.

Against all my good education, I put my ear to the wood, attentive to the murmurs that were heard on the other side. They were children's whispers, but they sounded frightened and spoke fast. I couldn't understand anything they were saying, and not because of the volume of their voice, but because they seemed to be communicating in a different language.

Tired of being a gossip, I knocked on the door and the whispering stopped immediately. Now, at that time I was a prince, no one tells me where I can or cannot enter, so after showing a minimum of politeness by knocking on that door, I opened it with all the freedom that my status gave me.

When my eyes fell on the white flags with the Cross of Burgundy painted on those tender cheeks, I finally understood my mother's anger and pain. I felt the sword burying itself in my heart.

What do you do when you discover your father's vileness? Wouldn't you get mad? Or would you cry? Well, apart from the pain of the betrayal, the reality was that when I saw those boys and girls I couldn't help but feel sorry and affection.

But when they looked at me they were so scared that they backed away and the flags disappeared from their faces. They were young territories, they still did not have control of their emotions, much less their abilities.

Their tender and childish faces were colored in different shades of coffee, some with darker skin and others with lighter skin. But all of them, without exception, had bright eyes of earth tones, their little looks were brown or orange. In fact, only one had inherited one hundred percent of our father's sunny gaze.

"Our father" the revelation hit me with the force of an anvil in free fall, ending up destroying the image of a happy family that I still believed I kept in my spirit.

But they well say that there is no power greater than that of denial.

-Who are you?- As if trying to protect my fragile ego before the imminent truth that was in front of me, I asked them.

The boys and girls looked at each other, confused and scared. No one had the good of wanting to answer me.

-I have asked you something and I demand an answer- as she said, I was never very patient. Poor kids, the terror on their little faces made me feel excessively guilty, like someone who accidentally steps on a puppy.