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

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE: BIGGER THAN THE WHOLE SKY

That expressionless face, with lines around the eyes and a straight line for a lip, was the first thing that greeted me at the imposing gates of Albus. Its wood had been extracted from the Phoenix pines, and carved with the Latin inscription "Deus voluit, et destnatus," which translated to God has willed, and decided. Of course, the motto of the onpices was accompanied by two enormous triquetras, symbolizing the product of the union between an angel and a human. Onpixs.

"For a princess who is constantly being attempted to be assassinated, you like to disobey the rules too much," he said.

I shrugged, not wiping the smile off my face. There was nothing that could ruin my moment with Eamon and remove the feeling of being at the top of a roller coaster.

"What can I say, Your Majesty? I like to keep Alba's guards on their toes."

The king of Alba rolled his eyes in the most exaggerated way I had ever seen in my life; they seemed to have left his body for a moment. For a second, I got the impression that the two guards beside him were about to faint at his expression. I clacked my boots on the stone path amidst the jasmines and roses that the queen proudly tended to. I used to believe that my grandmother had taken up gardening to prevent her gift from withering her entirely. The pain caused by the rebellion of her youngest son could be seen in the wrinkles around her mouth every time she frowned at noticing that someone had used the wrong fork at dinner.

"Your father has informed me of the news," he said.

"Which one?" I asked.

My grandfather, the onpice with the highest authority in Alba and among our kind, dismissed the guards waiting for him at the door with a slight wave of his hand and with a cold look, signaled me to follow him. I pitied the fool who dared to contradict him; the hairs on my neck stood on end at the reception of his orders. That evening, the king wore one of his charcoal black cloaks resembling a tunic that barely reached his knees, with golden embroidery that gave him the appearance of an old monk full of wisdom. His silver hair was perfectly combed back, and as always, his immaculate appearance planted in me the idea that he was not only meticulous in managing the kingdom but also in his personal hygiene. He looked impeccable to my envy.

"I believe it's time for a conversation between us," he said, his hand barely brushing my elbow in an attempt to be affectionate with his only granddaughter. "It has been a pleasant surprise to learn that your brother is still alive," if it truly was a pleasant surprise, it didn't show in his gestures as sour as curdled milk. "But your mother's confession about Christian's origin pains me in the chest."

"Oh, you mean that he is the result of a rape, committed by your twisted son."

My voice had been sharp, so much so that I felt the air in my lungs had evaporated. Of course, the king hadn't changed his expression. A vain old man with a heart of iron.

"Yes," he said, biting his tongue. "And while I apologize for it and regret not having protected your mother while she lived under my roof, I can't help but notice that there's nothing more we can do about her situation now."

I dug the tips of my boots into the ground and pierced the flesh of my palms with my nails. It was the fastest way I had to reach my inner calm, to redirect my pain. If he thought Drahceb's crimes would go unpunished, this man was more mistaken than I initially believed. Drahceb would not go a day without repenting for his wickedness once I confronted him. I had decided that the moment my mother confessed the pain he had caused her, the pain she had tried to protect us from for years so they wouldn't take her son away. And it wouldn't be the king of Alba himself who would stop me now that the thirst for revenge settled at the back of my throat.

Before opening my mouth and releasing the fire of my words and the fury in my eyes, I counted to three in French. Remembering that he was the father of my father, and that's why I owed him respect. I didn't want to be a disappointment to the man who had raised me so tenderly.