Chapter LX: Possibilities
The king sat on his throne, Isabella perched gracefully on his knee while he cradled their son, Ikkar, on the other. The sight of his son, the future of his dynasty, brought a profound sense of satisfaction and purpose to the king's heart. He loved being a father, and in the innocent eyes of his adorable little boy, he saw the promise of his legacy continuing.
Isabella exceeded his every expectation as a mother. She was caring, devoted, and nurturing, her love for their son evident in every tender touch and soft whisper. The king had no doubt that with time, she would only grow more adept and loving in her role. Watching her with Ikkar, he felt a surge of pride and contentment.
Looking at her and their son, the king's mind wandered to thoughts of fate. Perhaps it was destined all along for him to conceive his heir with Isabella. If it hadn’t been for her father’s betrayal, there was a chance he might have married her. The thought lingered, bittersweet and unspoken, as he considered the twists and turns of their intertwined destinies.
He thought about what might have been if her father had remained loyal to him. Would he have chosen Isabella as his queen? He had never met a woman more fit for this role, after all. The idea seemed both tantalizing and painful, a possibility that was now out of reach. The king decided it was better to never tell her of these musings; it would only break her heart to know how close she had come to being more than just his favored concubine.
Ikkar fell asleep in his father’s arms, his tiny breaths soft and rhythmic. Isabella gently lifted him, cradling him close as she decided to take him back to his crib. The king watched them with tenderness, his heart swelling with a rare, deep warmth as they left the throne room.
Isabella strolled back to her chambers, her steps light and careful to avoid waking the sleeping prince. The palace was quiet, the corridors bathed in the soft glow of evening light filtering through the windows. As she passed in front of the winter garden—a beautiful, lush retreat the king had gifted her—something caught her attention.
A woman in a simple brown dress was tenderly tending to the flowers. Her movements were graceful, her focus entirely on the delicate blooms she was caring for. Isabella paused, curiosity piqued—could she be the person who placed that mysterious envelope on her door? The woman seemed oddly familiar, yet Isabella couldn't place her.
Isabella stood at the threshold of the winter garden, torn between confronting the woman and putting her son to bed. She glanced down at Ikkar, his tiny face peaceful in sleep, and realized her priorities. Confronting the woman felt pointless when she didn’t even know what she would say or ask. The urgency of caring for her son outweighed her curiosity.
With a final, thoughtful glance at the woman in the brown dress, Isabella turned and continued her walk back to her chambers. As she strolled through the quiet corridors, her mind raced, trying to recall why the woman seemed so familiar. Her face, her mannerisms—there was something about her that tugged at the edges of Isabella's memory.
Once she reached her chambers, she carefully laid Ikkar in his crib, making sure he was comfortable and secure. She watched him for a moment, his soft breaths a soothing rhythm that calmed her thoughts. Still, the image of the woman lingered in her mind.
Isabella became adept at spending more time in her winter garden, her steps deliberate and her senses heightened. Part of her was eager to solve the mystery of the person who had left the Allendorian symbol at her door the other day. The symbol had stirred something deep within her, a mix of curiosity and apprehension. And a deep melancholic nostalgia.
She didn’t know if it was the mysterious woman in the brown dress who tended to her garden, but a nagging feeling suggested there was a connection. Investigating directly was risky; the last time she had delved into such matters, it had landed her in serious trouble. Still, her intuition told her that some answers might be found once she spoke to the woman. She couldn’t spend the whole day in the garden, but every time she went there at the same time she saw the woman before, it was empty.
Isabella went to the main garden in the early hours of the morning, the first light of dawn casting a soft glow over the meticulously tended grounds. As she walked among the dewy flowers, she found one of the few gardeners she knew, Mr. Ubbe, diligently caring for a bed of roses. His rugged hands moved with surprising delicacy, ensuring each bloom was perfect.
"Good morning, Mr. Ubbe," Isabella greeted, her voice gentle and friendly.
Mr. Ubbe looked up and greeted her with a courtly nod, wiping his hands on a cloth. "Good morning, my lady. What a beautiful day, isn’t it?"
Isabella smiled, taking in the serene beauty of the garden. "Indeed it is. I wanted to ask if there have been any new gardeners working at the palace recently."
Mr. Ubbe straightened, thinking for a moment. "Yes, my lady. The king ordered me to hire more staff to tend to the palace gardens. He mentioned that his favorite girl loves flowers," he said, with a hintful smile.
Isabella blushed at the thought of the king being so considerate and sweet. The idea that he had gone to such lengths to ensure the gardens were in perfect condition just for her warmed her heart. "That's very thoughtful of him," she murmured, a shy smile playing on her lips.
Mr. Ubbe nodded, a knowing glint in his eyes. "He cares deeply for you, my lady. We can all see it."
Isabella's blush deepened, and she quickly changed the subject. "Do you happen to know if there is a woman among the new hires?"
Mr. Ubbe paused, his brow furrowing in thought. "Yes, my lady. Her name is Elara, if I’m not mistaken. She tends to the winter garden at the royal quarters." Mr. Ubbe looked at Isabella with a hint of concern. “Is there any problem, my lady?”
Isabella shook her head, trying to appear nonchalant. “No problem, Mr. Ubbe. I was just surprised to see a gardener I didn’t know in my garden once, and I never got to see her again.”
Mr. Ubbe nodded understandingly. “I carefully instruct the gardeners to work at discrete hours, especially around the royal quarters, so they don’t bother anyone. It’s possible she was there early or late.”
Isabella smiled, reassured. “That’s alright, I was just curious.”
“If there’s anything you need, my lady, I’m at your disposal,” Mr. Ubbe offered courteously.
Isabella paused, a thought striking her. “Mr. Ubbe, does this new gardener, Elara, happen to tend to the harem’s gardens as well?”
Mr. Ubbe shook his head. “No, my lady. The gardeners for the harem are all men, and all eunuchs, naturally.”
“I see. Thank you, Mr. Ubbe,” Isabella said before she finally left.
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