Chapter CXLIX: Good manners
Isabella’s heart skipped a beat. “You want to take one of my children?” she asked, a mix of surprise and protectiveness flooding her voice.
Clara took a deep breath, her expression serious. “I know how it sounds, but many people question the fact that the heir to the throne wasn’t even born in Allendor. The princes who were born there won’t even remember their homeland.”
Isabella’s eyes narrowed slightly, her voice firm. “I would never allow them to forget about Allendor. They are my children, and Allendor is part of them!”
“I know that,” Clara replied gently. “But Wendell and I fear that in the future, the fact that the queen of Allendor is not in Allendor might become a problem. We just want to prevent that. Our idea is that when Ikkar rises to the throne, one of his brothers could be made the hereditary prince of Rosehall and become the regent of Allendor.”
Isabella’s heart raced at the implication. “So you want to solve your problems by taking one of my babies away from me, just like that?”
Clara shook her head, trying to diffuse the tension. “It’s not like that, my queen.”
“It’s out of the question,” Isabella insisted, her voice rising slightly. “The king would never allow it. I would never allow it. End of discussion.”
“As you wish, my queen,” Clara said, her tone softening, though the weight of the conversation lingered between them.
Isabella turned her gaze back to the garden, the laughter of her children echoing around them. The idea of being stranded from them was inconceivable.
The visit from Lord and Lady Wendell was drawing to a close, and Isabella felt a swell of gratitude. Hosting guests of such stature was exhausting, and she found herself lacking the energy for all the dinners, balls, and reunions that had filled her days.
In the comfort of her room, she sat on the floor, playing with Rya, trying to teach her how to behave in a more ladylike manner. But Rya, with her wild spirit reminiscent of her brothers, was more interested in running around than sitting still. Isabella couldn’t help but smile at her daughter’s boundless energy. Rya was clever and restless, and the way her brothers saw her as an equal made Isabella’s heart swell with pride. It was hard to be upset with Rya for not wanting to conform to the delicate image of a princess; her spirit was too vibrant to be contained.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. “Come in,” Isabella called, glancing up as a maid entered the room.
The maid curtsied slightly, her expression respectful yet urgent. “My lady, the king has summoned you to the royal office.”
Isabella’s heart skipped a beat, curiosity mingling with a hint of apprehension. “Of course,” she replied, standing up and smoothing her dress. “Take the princess to her room, stay with her until Lady Alicent picks her up for supper.”
The maid nodded, Isabella glanced down at Rya, whose eyes sparkled with mischief. “Looks like Mama has to go see Papa,” she said, bending down to give her daughter a quick kiss on the forehead. “You behave while I’m gone, alright?”
Isabella entered the royal office, her posture poised and graceful, as she found Alaric in discussion with Lord Wendell. She greeted them courteously, offering a slight bow of her head.
Alaric turned to her, a warm glint in his eyes. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said. “Lord Wendell and I were discussing the possibility of sending some of my troops to Allendor. We wanted to know what you thought of it.”
Isabella gave a small nod. “Lady Clara had already informed me this was being considered. I agree with the decision.”
Alaric’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Well, then. The queen has spoken, so it’s decided.”
Isabella returned his smile, though her expression grew thoughtful. “I have one condition, though.”
Alaric raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “And what would that be?”
“The dragon banners must be red instead of black,” she said, her voice steady. “I want the people of Allendor to see that this is not an invasion. These troops come under the authority of the king consort of Allendor.”
Alaric’s smile widened with approval as he bowed slightly, his gaze warm and respectful. “As you wish, my queen.”
Lord Wendell cleared his throat, his tone cautious. “We were also discussing the possibility of one of the young princes coming to Allendor to reside with us.”
Isabella’s expression hardened. “Lady Clara mentioned that as well, and the answer is no. It won’t happen.”
Alaric, to her utter shock, interjected, “I actually think it’s a good idea.”
She stared at him, disbelief coloring her features. “What?” she asked, a stunned chuckle escaping her. “What do you mean you like the idea?”
Alaric spoke calmly, his tone measured. “Creating the title of Prince of Rosehall could help us establish a more reliable government in Allendor.”
Isabella’s shock turned to anger. “Then send a bloody diplomat, not one of my babies!”
“No one’s saying it has to be now,” Alaric replied, attempting to soften his tone. “Kai could be prepared for it in time…”
But Isabella barely heard him as her vision blurred, her pulse racing. “Kai?” she whispered, voice breaking. “How could you even think this?” Her voice rose with fury. “No one is taking my baby from me. How dare you?”
A sudden wave of dizziness overtook her, and she clutched the wall for support, feeling as if the floor was shifting beneath her. Alaric immediately stepped forward, concern flashing across his face. “Isabella, are you alright?”
“Don’t touch me!” she snapped, wrenching herself away from him, storming out of the room. She walked quickly down the hall, ignoring the sharp pain stabbing at her stomach, feeling blood drain from her face. Alaric followed, concern in every step, but she kept her focus on steadying herself against the walls.
“Isabella, wait!” he called, his tone more urgent.
She spun around, voice cracking, “No one is taking Kai! How could you even consider it?” Her voice faltered as tears streaked down her face. “You never believed me, did you? You never truly believed Kai was your son. You don’t love him! You want to sent him away!"
Alaric’s face softened with an intensity of emotion. “Of course Kai is my son, Isabella, of course I love him. But you need to calm down…”
Just then, Isabella felt warmth trickling down her thighs, and her heart sank as she realized it was blood. She took a few shaky steps forward, her hand clenching against the wall before her vision faded. As her body weakened, she felt herself falling, but Alaric was there, catching her just before she hit the floor.
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