Chapter XXXV: Felicitations
As Isabella reclined on the king's lap, her gaze drifted lazily across the bustling courtiers, the warm glow of wine coursing through her veins. The king offered the wine from his cup, which was pretty strong but also very good, it made her feel light and carefree as if she didn't just challenge the Dragon King in front of his court while completely naked. It was very late and with each sip of wine her eyelids grew heavier, until at last, she succumbed to the comforting embrace of sleep, her head nestled against the king's chest.
With a tender touch, the king draped his cape around Isabella's slumbering form, shielding her from the cool night air as he rose from his throne. Cradling her gently in his arms, he made his way through the silent halls of the harem, the soft flicker of torchlight guiding his path.
In the dimly lit chamber, the other concubines lay nestled in their beds, their soft breaths the only sound in the quiet night. Carefully, the king lowered Isabella onto her bed, tucking her in beneath the warm embrace of the blankets.
For a moment, he lingered beside her, watching as she slept, her features softened in the gentle glow of the moonlight coming from the windows. With a sigh, he brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead, his touch lingering with a tenderness he dared not admit even to himself. He wondered what he was supposed to do with her.
As dawn's light filtered through the windows of the communal bedroom, Isabella stirred from her slumber, only to be greeted by a sudden surge of nausea that gripped her like a vice. With a groan, she lurched out of bed, barely making it to her feet before emptying the contents of her stomach onto the floor, the acrid scent of bile filling the air.
Panicked servants rushed to her side, their faces etched with concern, while Lady Dara's disdainful sneer cut through the commotion. "Disgusting," she spat, her tone dripping with contempt. "You should clean up after yourself."
Before Isabella could muster a response, another wave of sickness crashed over her, and she doubled over, retching violently. Lady Dara recoiled in horror as Isabella's vomit splattered at her feet, her shriek of revulsion echoing off the walls.
Amidst the chaos, Lady Belet swept into the room, her expression a mix of worry and annoyance. "What in the world is happening here?" she demanded, her voice sharp.
Isabella, pale and trembling, an explanatory glance. Lady Belet's brow furrowed with concern as she observed Isabella's distress. “I think I had too much wine last night,” said Isabella.
"I see," Lady Belet mused, her tone grave as she turned to one of the servants. "Summon the abestetrix to take a look at Lady Isabella. Now!"
The concubines reacted with a mix of shock and suspicion as Lady Belet issued her orders, but Lady Dara's protests rang loudest. "The abestetrix? This is a joke," she declared, her voice laced with venom. "Isabella is faking it! There's no way… The king would never! She’s faking it, Lady Belet! She’s faking it!"
Her words were cut short as she lunged towards Isabella, intent on physical confrontation, but a quick-witted maid intervened, blocking her path. Lady Belet's steely gaze silenced the room as she commanded, "Enough, Lady Dara!"
With swift efficiency, Isabella was whisked away to one of the private chambers, away from the prying eyes and judgmental whispers of the communal bedroom, while the tension among the concubines lingered like a dark cloud overhead.
"Felicitations, my lady," the abestetrix began, her voice a gentle and firm, "you are pregnant."
As the midwife delivered the long-awaited news, confirming Isabella's suspicions, a hushed reverence enveloped the room like a sacred cloak. Lady Belet and the maids exchanged knowing glances before bowing in deference to the unborn prince and his mother.
Tears welled in Isabella's eyes as she placed a trembling hand on her still-flat stomach, feeling the weight of destiny settle upon her. "An heir," she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm carrying the king's heir."
As the midwife departed, Lady Belet turned to Isabella, a rare moment of privacy finally afforded to them. "How do you feel, my lady?" she inquired, her concern evident.
Isabella's gaze drifted to the closed door, her mind swimming with a whirlwind of emotions. "I... I don't know," she admitted, her voice trembling with uncertainty. "I must tell the king now, right?"
Lady Belet's voice was gentle yet firm as she spoke to Isabella, her words carrying the weight of wisdom and experience. "I will deliver the news of your pregnancy to the king myself," she said, her gaze unwavering. "Right now you need to rest and take good care of yourself. Of both of you."
Isabella nodded, absorbing Lady Belet's guidance with a mixture of gratitude and apprehension.
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