Chapter XL: Respect
Frustrated by Isabella's repeated rejections, the king grew increasingly irritated. Initially, he attributed her constant fatigue and headaches to the advanced stage of her pregnancy, which he considered normal. However, as time passed, he sensed her deliberate avoidance.
Determined to confront her about her behavior, the king sought her out in the harem. Upon learning she was in the garden, he set out to find her, his steps fueled by a mix of anger and hurt.
The king discovered Isabella in the garden, immersed in her book and enjoying an apple while reclining on a specially arranged couch beneath a tree. He paused, captivated by her serene presence, resembling a scene from a beautiful dream. Isabella remained unaware of his approach until he drew near, interrupting her peaceful moment.
Isabella's eyes narrowed in annoyance as she looked up and saw the king approaching. For a moment, she considered pretending not to notice him, but his presence was impossible to ignore. With a resigned sigh, she closed her book and set aside the half-eaten apple, steeling herself for the inevitable conversation.
"Enjoying a quiet moment, Isabella?" the king inquired, his tone falsely casual as he settled himself nearby.
Isabella forced a tight smile, her annoyance simmering beneath the surface. "I was, actually," she replied curtly, her tone polite but tinged with irritation.
Undeterred by her frosty demeanor, the king chuckled softly. "I hope I'm not intruding," he said, his expression betraying amusement rather than genuine concern.
Isabella resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Of course not, Your Majesty," she replied with forced civility, though her tone suggested otherwise.
The king's brow furrowed as he regarded Isabella's defiant expression. "You've been avoiding me, Isabella," he stated firmly, his tone brooking no argument.
Isabella's jaw tightened, her frustration boiling over. "I haven't been avoiding you," she retorted, her voice tinged with irritation. "I've simply been too exhausted lately."
The king arched an eyebrow skeptically. "You seem well-rested now," he observed pointedly.
Isabella bristled at his implication. "That's because I was actually resting," she snapped, her tone sharp with anger.
The king's gaze hardened, his patience wearing thin. "Watch your tone, Isabella," he warned, his voice low and dangerous.
But Isabella was past caring about diplomacy. "If you're seeking companionship, Your Majesty, I suggest you look for your other women," she said icily, her frustration boiling over. "As you can see, I'm clearly unfit to please you in your bed at the moment. I think Dara is at the bathing house, why don’t you join her?"
Upon Isabella’s angry words, the king understood right away what that was all about. He knew that Lady Dara's incessant boasting about their encounter must have fueled Isabella's anger, and a part of him sympathized with her frustration. What he felt could even resemble guilt, he didn't want to be with Dara that night and he never wished to make the woman carrying his child upset with such matters. He could've avoided Dara, but old habits are not easy to get rid of; and Dara was a very old habit of his. Yet, despite his understanding of Isabella's feelings, he couldn't shake the simmering outrage at Isabella's defiance. He was the mighty Dragon King, accustomed to obedience and reverence from all those around him, especially his concubines. Isabella's audacity to challenge him so openly grated against his pride and authority.
The tension between them crackled in the air, palpable and charged. Isabella could feel the weight of the king's gaze upon her, but she refused to back down. She had endured enough of his disregard and was not willing to play the obedient concubine.
"Is this about jealousy?" he pressed, his voice firm.
Isabella bristled, her jaw tensing. "No, your Majesty, it is not," she shot back, her tone defensive.
The king's eyes narrowed. "But you are jealous," he insisted, his voice, even playful, was betraying his frustration.
Isabella shook her head adamantly. "I don't care about what you do in your chambers, it’s simply not my problem," she retorted, trying to sidestep the issue.
The king's patience wore thin. "You’re right, it’s not your problem. Now admit it," he demanded, his voice low and commanding.
Isabella's resolve faltered, her eyes flickering with a mix of emotions. "I... I need to lie down," she deflected, attempting to retreat.
But the king blocked her path, his expression unyielding. "You're not leaving until…," he declared, interrupting himself upon taking a closer look at Isabella’s face. As her abrupt change of demeanor stopped the king in his tracks, his anger was momentarily forgotten and concern flooded through him. "Isabella, are you alright?" he asked, his voice tinged with urgency.
Isabella steadied herself against him, her hand resting on her swollen belly. "I think... I think the baby's coming," she gasped.
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