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

CHAPTER EIGHT: GHOSTS

I was paralyzed in time, like a stone statue, in front of the outfit Gemma had chosen for me. I watched it, debating whether to wear it or maybe run home and put on my daisy pajamas. But the truth was I didn't have much of a choice, I felt ridiculous with the pink silk that brushed against my skin. On the bed where I had woken up, my friend had laid out an amber-colored shirt with the same emblem that the royal guard wore embroidered in gold thread. An unusual but perfect triskelion, right above the heart. In addition, she had added to my outfit a black and rather tight-fitting pants apparently used for training, and slightly worn black boots with a small heel that I guessed would make me fall at some point during the day. My ankles were not used to that false height.

I had never felt so inferior and grotesque as when a group of young girls entered accompanied by my best friend. In a single file, walking neatly one behind the other, without even lifting their gazes from the ground. Their beauty hitting me like a slap of reality.

"Palace servants," Gemma had whispered in my ear.

The agitation of the servants at the presence of Eamon was palpable in the air. As solid as the wood under my feet. A wave of jealousy crossed my body and hardened my muscles. However, I couldn't deny that my neighbor possessed the kind of beauty that was worthy of attention anywhere he went.

But they had nothing to envy him. The young girls were beautiful, exquisite creatures like I had never seen. A cascade of silky hair fell down their backs, where on top of their heads rested a half ponytail with a golden clasp identical to the triskelion the other onpices had on their uniforms. My skin began to itch just above my elbow when I realized that something was off, and according to the tempting beauty of the servants, something told me they were not onpices. They were another kind of being, with more complex features. Or maybe they were angels. Everything in this new reality seemed even more difficult to assimilate, so the line between truth and imagination was very thin. They were dressed from head to toe in immaculate and pure white. Their fingers sleeping behind their backs, waiting for Gemma's instructions. They all posed those honey-colored eyes on my skin, trying to reach my bones, with that spark of curiosity lighting up their iris like a ray of sunshine. I remained motionless with my gaze also on them, far from reality, they seemed described in an old novel from centuries ago.

They took care of my makeup and brought some color back to my skin. They also did a high ponytail and adorned it with small golden flowers that shone under the sunlight. They offered me a mirror when they finished with me, which I almost dropped when I noticed that the reflection staring back at me didn't seem to be mine. A light mist of beauty covering my face, a bit more like theirs. Every bruise had disappeared under the color they had applied, my freckles that I had hated so much as a child stood out subtly like stars that begin to disappear in the vast sky, and my years of dark circles had vanished, as if they had never existed in the first place. The pain that still lingered in my body after the attack had also left me, filling me with a vitality that I had never experienced before thanks to Gemma's touch. The silver ring with a stone of the same color as the sea rested on her ring finger and shone after touching my skin. Which led me to believe that the jewel must be somehow involved in my healing process and with Gemma's gift.

Although I felt better physically, everything around me spun as if I were on a carousel inside a twisted fairytale. As they brushed my hair delicately, my mind began to wander through all the attention I was receiving. Having people at my disposal felt much more than surreal, it felt almost bizarre. My whole life had been independent, meticulous, and disciplined in my tasks. I didn't let anyone interfere in my affairs for fear that they would ruin it completely. And now, suddenly, I had found myself with a wall of reality made of thick bricks, trying to stop everything that had once been. After my mother disappeared from the equation, there had not been many opportunities to feel indulged other than by my father, and he was at work most of the time. That's why every time I felt the soft touch of the maid immaculately dressed in white, it made my feet curl inside my boots and my nails dig into the chair's upholstery. Meanwhile, the thought that the rest of my life would be this way haunted me.