Chapter CXXVIII: Letter
The Dragon King ordered food and wine to be served in the garden, a quiet corner of the palace bathed in the glow of twilight. As the table was set, he realized how isolated he'd become since Isabella left. The once-vibrant court felt hollow, her absence was palpable. Now, sitting across from Rhea, it felt strange to have company. She was family, familiar, yet there was an odd distance between them after all these years.
As they sipped their wine, Rhea broke the silence. "I couldn't believe it when I heard the great Dragon King had emptied his royal harem, full of his beloved fallen princesses, and chose only his favorite concubine to stay by his side." She raised an eyebrow, her tone teasing. "And I believed even less when they told me that the same concubine—the one you killed our brother for—escaped and now claims her dead father’s crown."
Alaric sighed, his gaze heavy with the weight of her words. "This is being taken care of as we speak," he muttered, pushing the wine goblet away. "And I'm really sorry about Damian."
Rhea shrugged, unconcerned. "It was only a matter of time before Damian got himself killed for fucking a woman wasn’t his. You know I never really liked him. Of all our siblings, he was my least favorite." She sipped her wine, unconcerned.
Alaric looked at her, studying her face. "So, what are you really doing here, Rhea?" he asked, his tone shifting to something more serious. "I don’t believe you left your husband and children back in Ingran just to lecture me about my mistakes."
Rhea’s expression changed. She took a deep breath, the lightness gone from her eyes. "My mother has passed away," she said, her voice quieter now. Alaric blinked in surprise, taken aback by the news. Lady Belet had only left his court less than a year ago.
"I’m sorry, Rhea," he said, his voice soft. "Lady Belet was a remarkable woman."
"She was," Rhea agreed, her eyes distant. "I know you were close with her when you were a child, and more recently, when she came here to manage your harem. That’s why I wanted to tell you personally. She died surrounded by family, and she went in peace."
The king nodded, offering his quiet condolences, feeling the weight of another loss added to the growing list.
"But that’s not the only reason I’m here," Rhea said, her voice growing steadier. "On her deathbed, my mother was sick and often delirious. She kept talking about a journal. I found it, and during one of her last moments of lucidity, she wrote a letter. It’s addressed to you."
Rhea reached into a pocket in her dress and pulled out a small, leatherbound book. She placed it gently on the table between them. "I haven’t read the letter. I don’t know what she's talking about or even if that makes any sense, but I promised my mother I’d bring it to you, and that’s what I’ve done."
The king took the leatherbound book in his hands, turning it over as if trying to glean some hidden meaning from its worn cover. He glanced at his sister. "Do you know what this is?" he asked, his voice low.
Rhea folded her arms and leaned back slightly, watching him carefully. "It seemed like records from the harem," she replied. "Things she wrote while she was in charge of it. When I brought her the diary, she was searching for something—a certain page, I think. She kept repeating, ‘I need to tell the king.’" Rhea’s eyes flickered, recalling the memory. "But before I could see what it was, she closed the book. Then she said she needed to write a letter. The envelope is in there."
The king spent the rest of the evening in quiet conversation with his sister, finding some comfort in her company. They spoke of family, memories of their youth, and the many responsibilities that weighed heavily on both their shoulders. But as the night deepened and the sky grew darker, Rhea retired to her chambers, leaving Alaric alone with his thoughts.
Later, in the stillness of his office, Alaric sat at his desk, the letter from Lady Belet resting before him. The leatherbound record journal lay beside it, but it was the envelope that seemed to command his attention. He hesitated only briefly before opening it, unfolding the delicate paper within.
Lady Belet’s handwriting was familiar, careful and neat, as he began to read:
*"Your Majesty,*
*For the short period of time I had the honor to serve you, I did my best to keep everything in order. When Lady Isabella was moved from the harem to the royal chambers after the birth of Prince Ikkar, I struggled to maintain clear and concise records as I divided my attention between the harem and Isabella. Yet one thing I always ensured was recorded was the blood cycle of every woman in your harem—including Isabella."*
Alaric’s brow furrowed as he continued reading. The mention of blood cycles was oddly specific.
*"As the harem was dismantled and I was dismissed from my duties, I thought little of such records, especially after the chaos surrounding Isabella’s escape. However, not long ago, during a severe fever, I remembered something alarming: there are no records of Lady Isabella’s periods for the last two months she was in the palace."
His heart pounded, a slow dread creeping through him.
*"A rumor reached me recently, one that claims Isabella may now be the mother of two young children, in addition to Prince Ikkar. My last record of her period was a note on the day after the one that she was supposed to bleed saying that she was late. The chance might be remote, I don’t know when exactly her younger children were born, but there is a possibility that she was already pregnant by the time she fled the palace, and I failed to realize it."
Alaric’s hands gripped the edges of the letter tightly, his knuckles white as he read the final lines:
*"For this failure, I offer my deepest apologies. I should have brought this to your attention sooner, but I did not think of the possibility until it was too late. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.
*—Lady Belet, Baroness of Deravan."
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