Chapter XLV: Unwell
Isabella entered her room and found it adorned with a breathtaking display of pink and white roses. Amongst the flowers, a chest filled with glittering jewels caught her eye. Before she could fully absorb the scene, Lady Belet entered, her expression serious.
"Lady Isabella, the king requests your presence in his chambers tonight," Lady Belet announced.
Isabella's heart skipped a beat, the memory of the high priestess's foreboding words flooding her mind. "Tell him... tell him I'm feeling unwell," she stammered, her voice trembling.
Lady Belet arched an eyebrow, sensing Isabella's unease. "Are you sure that's wise, my lady? It’s an invitation from the king…" she inquired, concern evident in her eyes.
Isabella hesitated, torn between her fear and her desire to shield Lady Belet from the truth. "I just... don't want to," she finally managed, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Lady Isabella, as I told you, I don’t think it would be wise for you to…” Lady Belet tried to conceive an argument, but Isabella interrupted her “I won’t go to the king’s chamber tonight, Lady Belet!” Isabella said, visibly flustered. “Send another concubine to his bed to satisfy him, there are plenty of them in the harem! I don’t care!”
Lady Belet's expression softened with understanding, though a hint of worry lingered over Isabella’s clear distemper. "As you wish, my lady," she conceded, bowing respectfully before exiting the room.
Alone once more, Isabella sank onto the bed, tears welling in her eyes. The weight of the priestess's prophecy hung heavy over her, filling her with a sense of dread. In that moment of vulnerability, she couldn't shake the fear that the king's affection was slipping away, leaving her stranded in a sea of uncertainty. The idea of another woman taking her place in the king’s bed made her heart ache with sorrow. But then she looked at her son, sleeping peacefully in his crib. She silently prayed he never got to see the horrors of a war as she did.
Lady Belet approached the king in his chambers, her demeanor solemn. "My lord, Lady Isabella won't be joining you tonight," she announced.
The king's brows furrowed in confusion. "Why not?" he inquired, his voice tinged with concern.
"Lady Isabella isn't feeling well," Lady Belet replied vaguely.
The king's expression grew pensive as he considered her words. "What's wrong with her?" he pressed.
"I'm not certain, Your Majesty. She simply informed me that she was indisposed," Lady Belet explained. The king fell silent, lost in thought. Lady Belet offered a solution. "Shall I arrange for another concubine to attend to you this evening?"
For a moment, the king contemplated the idea, but the thought of another woman in his bed failed to entice him. "No, that won't be necessary," he replied dismissively, his mind still preoccupied with thoughts of Isabella.
As Lady Belet departed, the king couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled over him. He wondered whether Isabella was truly unwell or if there was something more troubling her.
As Alicent cradled Prince Ikkar after his morning feed, Isabella stood by the window of her chambers, the soft glow of the rising sun casting a warm hue over the harem's gardens below. Isabella sighed softly, her thoughts drifting to the late queen and the pain she must have endured.
"It's hard to imagine," Isabella began, her voice barely above a whisper, "having to witness your husband’s concubines every day from the window of your own bedroom, knowing they shared his bed while you had to remain alone."
Alicent joined her, her eyes clouded with sadness. "I heard the late queen never opened her curtains," she said softly. "The garden was hers first, it was a wedding gift from the king. Then he eventually incorporated it into his harem. It's said the queen lived in perpetual darkness after this, her heart weighed down by sorrow. I’ve heard she was pale as a candle. Slowly killed by a broken heart."
Isabella's heart ached at the thought of the queen's suffering. "It must have been unbearable," she murmured, a sense of sadness washing over her.
Isabella gazed wistfully at the garden below, the soft breeze carrying the scent of blooming flowers through the open window. "Although I absolutely do not miss the harem, I do miss spending time there, in the garden," she admitted to Alicent, a faint longing in her voice. "It was so peaceful, so beautiful. The fresh air, the flowers, the stream…"
The mention of the water stream triggered a cascade of memories within Isabella's mind, transporting her back to that tender morning when the king had deflowered her amidst the blossoms. She could almost feel the soft grass against her skin and the warmth of the sun filtering through the leaves, casting dappled patterns on their entwined bodies. The scent of jasmine lingered in the air, intermingling with the heady aroma of the king’s uncontrollable desire and her reluctant surrender. Yet, beneath the surface of nostalgia, a subtle undercurrent of apprehension rippled through her—the high priestess words, warning her of the consequences of allowing the king to take her ever again.
Alicent smiled sympathetically. "We should visit the main garden someday," she suggested, her eyes alight with excitement. "It's even more beautiful, with a giant maze of lush greenery and vibrant blooms."
Isabella's expression faltered slightly. "I would love to, but Lady Belet said I can't leave without permission," she explained, a hint of frustration creeping into her tone. "Even though I've been moved to the royal quarters, I'm still bound by the rules of the harem."
Alicent chuckled, shaking her head in disbelief. "You’re the mother of the prince, Isabella," she pointed out, looking at the baby in her arms, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "What could they possibly do to stop you?"
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