THE UNBREAKABLE PIECE (FIRST BOOK OF THE HIDDEN WORLD) English version

CHAPTER TWELVE: COFFEE & CINNAMON

The sunlight filtered faintly through my closed eyelids, inviting me to wake up. My hand felt the steady pulse of his heart, beating calmly beneath my palm. His chest rose and fell as he slept peacefully, as if this moment were ordinary in our lives.

I recognized his scent, and I let it linger in my nostrils as I decided whether to start my day or stay there forever.

"Eamon," I uttered softly, touching him with the tip of my finger right where the small mark of his dimples began, blending into his scar. "We should get up."

"'Should' is a very heavy word for the morning."

I moved away from him before he opened his beautiful and rested green eyes. I stretched sitting on my new bed and looked around. Despite waking up in a new world, I had slept too well. While Eamon stirred under the sheets, protesting under his breath, I walked towards the window. The roses entwined between the balcony's iron bars were no longer withered but gleamed in their immaculate white and soft petals. I got on my knees, letting the cold of the floor wake me up, and I caressed the flower with my fingers. Perhaps the air of Alba contained real magic, and it had saved them in their final breath. However, a pang of uncertainty stirred within me, planting the suspicion that my return had something to do with it.

"What are you doing on the floor? Are you praying?"

I glanced over my shoulder, somewhat surprised by his question, and turned back to the roses. Just below us, the castle's garden slept with the rest of its flowers—flowers I didn't even know existed, much more than simple white roses. In the heart of the garden, two fountains played with the sunlight's reflection and extended toward the entrance, where a black gate barred the way for Albeans who tried to enter the castle without permission. If that wasn't enough, a row of guards in their blue jackets marched back and forth, occasionally looking over their shoulders. In the distance, the citadel began to come alive; I could hear the sounds of the town, the singing of birds, and the impatient clash of waves against the cliff where the castle lay.

"I'm observing the roses, Eamon. I could swear they were withered last night."

Eamon furrowed his brow, crouching to my level. He stroked a petal with his fingers, searching my face for some response before letting go.

"It was dark last night; maybe you didn't notice that the petals were fine. Besides, the lights on your balcony weren't on."

I was sure of what I had seen, even though the only illumination was the moonlight. Even blind, I could know, as I remembered the hostile and hard feel of the withered petals against my fingers. My muscles tensed; Eamon had questioned my observation too quickly, and that definitely irritated me. I walked quickly inside, leaving him behind.

Gemma entered the room, her presence as overwhelming as a storm. Her loud tone and the movement of her hands in the air suddenly warned me that we were no longer alone. Ben, my serene friend, walked close behind her. Like a retinue of soldiers, a group of fairy servants in their white uniforms—which I must say, were overwhelming to the eyes—walked behind them silently, heads bowed. They carried towels, a change of black clothes, and a tray with white roses and plums.

"Good morning, princess. How did you wake up today..."

Gemma's eyes widened like those of a cartoon upon noticing Eamon's presence just a few steps from the bed. She stopped, and Ben bumped into her; both turned their gaze to my neighbor, and then to me. Gemma pursed her lips, and a mocking smile began to form on my best friend's face.

Gemma quickly moved her arms with more enthusiasm this time, keeping the servants away seconds before they could see my neighbor too. I thanked the castle designer for the wall in front of the door, giving me extra time for the secret guests to escape the scene without even being seen.