Chapter CI: Windows
The king summoned Lady Belet to his office. He began with a heavy sigh, his voice laced with regret. "Lady Belet, I know I granted you permission to leave court, but with everything that's happening now, I need you to stay."
Lady Belet, ever composed, nodded respectfully. "It is my pleasure and my honor to help, Your Majesty."
The king's expression darkened as he continued, "The only reason Dara managed to sneak into my bed was because she was seeking the power she always sought within the harem. You were supposed to ensure this didn't happen."
Lady Belet nodded again, her voice steady. "Of course, Your Majesty. I will handle Dara."
The king seemed thoughtful for a moment before adding, "I also need to keep this entire situation away from Isabella. Make sure she’s comfortable and feels safe."
Lady Belet's face softened with concern. "Isabella is feeling quite threatened by all of this. She barely leaves her room and refuses to take her eyes off Ikkar, even for a second. She even makes all her maids eat his food before allowing him to eat."
The king sighed, a hint of frustration creeping into his tone. "Isabella is a woman of extreme feelings."
Lady Belet looked at the king, her gaze unwavering. "Isabella is a woman who understands the dynamics of a harem… and she knows very well what it's like not to be the king’s favorite."
The king frowned, his voice firm. "There is no harem anymore."
Lady Belet’s tone remained respectful but pointed as she replied, "Your Majesty still has two noblewomen under your roof who have shared your bed and who have borne you legitimate children. Whether you call them wives, mistresses, or concubines, it doesn’t matter—they are under your wing, and their interests are naturally conflicting. As much as you may not choose to formally make any of them your queen, everyone knows that eventually, it won’t matter. One woman will rise to power… Your mother, may her soul be blessed, was queen by blood, marriage, and right, yet another woman ruled this palace."
The king murmured a name, "Lady Aline."
Lady Belet nodded solemnly. "Prince Damian’s mother. She tried to kill me twice during my pregnancy. Very interesting woman, relentless when it came to power."
The king’s expression hardened. "I won’t let any of this happen."
Lady Belet nodded, her tone now matter-of-fact. "Your Majesty, you will be busy being a king, a warrior, a conqueror. But your succession and the internal politics of the palace will be handled by the women you choose to keep by your side. You don’t need a harem for it to be like this. Remember, Lady Aline was responsible for feeding and raising the part of your brother that wanted to take what was yours."
The king’s gaze grew intense as he asked, "You were once a royal concubine. Why weren’t you a psychotic power-seeker full of schemes and hidden agendas?"
Lady Belet laughed softly. "I’ve always understood why the women in the harem behaved the way they did. I just never felt it in my bones, it wasn’t my nature."
The king paused, considering her words, before asking quietly, "Do you think Isabella will ever forgive me?"
Lady Belet’s expression softened. "Isabella’s heart commands her actions. She’s wounded, but she’s very brave. And she’s been through a lot. She will get through this."
The king left their conversation deep in thought, but also with a glimmer of hope. He knew now that he had to be extra careful—Isabella wasn’t exaggerating when she shouted that Dara was a threat to her. He wanted to ensure Isabella felt safe; she was the only woman he had ever considered worthy of such care, worthy of all the sacrifices he had made.
Yet, the memory of waking up with Dara in his bed troubled him. It felt like a warning about his true nature, one that he couldn’t entirely suppress. Isabella was too soft, too gentle and delicate for the ruthless position he had placed her in. No matter how much he tried to accommodate her, to make her feel comfortable and safe, his true nature still managed to break through. And that realization saddened him deeply.
Being with Isabella made him happy—happier than he’d ever been, happier than having a dozen women hungry for his love. She truly was worth a thousand wars. Despite the political issues and his personal hatred for her father, perhaps she was meant to be his queen all along. The idea, one he had often pushed away, suddenly made perfect sense, so much sense that it overwhelmed him.
He was now certain of one thing: he had to marry Isabella.
The king hurried to Isabella’s room, expecting to find her there as usual. However, when he entered, the room was eerily empty. The absence of both Isabella and Ikkar struck him as odd, especially considering how late it was. His mind raced as he looked around, searching for any sign of them, but the room was undisturbed, as if they had simply vanished.
Growing anxious, the king stormed out and approached the nearest guard. “When did Lady Isabella leave her room last?” he demanded.
The guard, visibly nervous under the king's intense gaze, replied, “Your Majesty, Lady Isabella did not leave her room today.”
The king's concern deepened, and without hesitation, he issued an order. “Search the palace—every corner. Find Lady Isabella and my son.”
The palace guards sprang into action, scouring every hallway, chamber, and hidden passageway. Servants were interrogated, knights were dispatched to all corners of the sprawling palace, but hours passed with no trace of either Isabella or Ikkar.
Finally, a knight of the king’s guard approached him, his face etched with worry. “Your Majesty, we have searched everywhere,” the knight reported solemnly. “There is no sign of Lady Isabella or Prince Ikkar anywhere in the palace.”
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