Chapter LVIII: Patience
Isabella lay on her bed with her legs open and an iron speculum spreading her womanhood, a mixture of hope and anxiety etched on her face as the midwife conducted her examination. Lady Belet stood by her side, offering a comforting presence.
After a few moments, the midwife looked up, her expression apologetic. "I'm very sorry, Lady Isabella, but you're not pregnant yet."
Isabella sighed in frustration, her hopes dashed. "Are you sure?" she asked, her voice tinged with desperation.
The midwife nodded gently. "Yes, I'm sure, my lady."
Lady Belet placed a reassuring hand on Isabella's shoulder. "Patience, dear," she said softly. "These things can take time."
Isabella, her frustration palpable, voiced her complaints. "I've been in the king’s bed almost every day for two months. I should be with child by now."
The midwife, with a calm and wise demeanor, explained gently, "You're still breastfeeding, Lady Isabella. Once you stop, you’ll become more fertile again."
Lady Belet looked at Isabella thoughtfully. "Do you wish to stop breastfeeding the prince now, my lady?"
Isabella sighed, her resolve wavering for a moment. "No," she said softly. "I don't feel like I should stop breastfeeding him so soon. He still needs me."
Lady Belet nodded, her expression understanding. "Then you must be more patient, dear. Your time will come."
Isabella nodded, taking a deep breath to calm her frustrations. She knew Lady Belet was right, even though it was hard to wait. She just had to trust that everything would happen when it was meant to… Which was almost painful. She yearned for the day she would get to tell the king he would be a father again.
After the midwife left, Isabella was left alone with Lady Belet. The room was filled with a quiet tension as Isabella adjusted her robes, her mind still preoccupied with the disappointing news.
"How are things back in the harem, Lady Belet?" Isabella asked, her voice carrying a hint of genuine curiosity.
Lady Belet sighed, her expression weary. "It's complicated, my lady. Keeping the girls sane and under control has been a challenge. They all live with the expectation of being with the king and giving him a child eventually, to win his favor and improve their position. Since he hasn’t visited them for months, some are angry, feeling rejected and forgotten. Others are simply depressed, losing hope and purpose."
Isabella frowned, the weight of the situation settling heavily on her. "I can understand their frustration," she said softly. "But it’s expected for the king to have a favorite. They should just accept it."
Lady Belet nodded. "Yes, but their lives revolve around his Majesty. When he doesn’t visit, it disrupts their sense of worth and stability. It’s a delicate balance, managing their emotions and keeping the peace. But that’s my purpose there, I suppose."
Isabella's voice trembled as she confessed to Lady Belet, her eyes reflecting her inner turmoil. "I wish the king would release all of them from the harem," she began, her words heavy with emotion. "I know he doesn't visit them anymore, but there's a piece of my heart that yearns for him to finally claim me as his one and only… Not just the favorite among many."
Lady Belet's expression softened, her eyes filled with sympathy and understanding. She reached out and gently took Isabella's hand in hers, the touch warm and comforting. "Lady Isabella," she said softly, "don't let yourself be consumed by such desires. As much as you live like royalty under the king's protection, as much as you are the mother of the Crown Prince, you are still a war prisoner, a slave of his Majesty’s harem."
Isabella's shoulders slumped as she absorbed Lady Belet's words. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she blinked them back, her voice barely a whisper. "I know," she admitted, her heart aching with the weight of her unfulfilled dreams. "It's just... sometimes I dream of a life where I am the only one. A life where I don't have to share my position with anyone else."
Lady Belet sighed, her grip on Isabella's hand tightening slightly in a gesture of reassurance. "Your heart is in the right place, Lady Isabella, but you must be careful. The harem's politics are complex, and the king's favor can be as unpredictable as the wind. You have a privileged position, and with that comes both power and vulnerability. But you must remember that you’re not his wife, you’re not his queen."
Isabella nodded slowly, her thoughts a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. "I understand," she said, though the longing in her voice was unmistakable. “I know I live in a gilded cage.”
Lady Belet looked at her with a mixture of compassion and pragmatism. "You are favored, and that is no small thing. Find strength in your position, your son might be able to release you from the harem someday… Once he becomes king, of course. But until then you have to be smart and strong."
Isabella wiped away a stray tear, her resolve hardening. "Thank you, Lady Belet," she said, her voice steadier now. "I will try to be. For my sake, and for my son's."
Lady Belet smiled warmly, her eyes full of encouragement. "That's all you can do, my dear. Who knows what the future holds for you?"
Isabella took a deep breath, feeling a sense of calm wash over her. She knew Lady Belet was right. It was still heartbreaking to think the only way for her to be released from the harem was for her son to become king, which meant his father being dead. A wave of sadness washed over her as she realized that, no matter what she did, she would always be the Dragon King’s concubine, never his wife.
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