Chapter LXXVII: Risk
Isabella awoke slowly, her senses gradually coming back to life as the haze of sleep lifted. She felt the warmth of two bodies pressed against hers, the steady rhythm of their breaths creating a soothing symphony in the quiet walls of that harem bedroom. That room existed for the king to lay with his concubines when he didn’t feel like bringing them to his room. It was the first time Isabella slept there. As her eyes fluttered open, she saw she was entangled between the king and Prince Damian.
The memories of the night before came rushing back, a whirlwind of passion, power, and primal intensity. She felt the king's strong arm draped possessively over her waist, his body curled protectively around her from behind. In front of her, Damian's hand rested lightly on her hip, his expression softened in sleep.
Isabella lay still for a moment, taking in the weight of the two men who had claimed her so thoroughly. The room was bathed in the soft glow of early morning light filtering through the curtains, casting a warm, golden hue over everything.
Isabella slowly and quietly extricated herself from the tangle of limbs and warmth, careful not to wake the king or Prince Damian. Every movement reminded her of the night before, her body sore but her mind resolute. She found a robe at the foot of the bed and slipped it on, the fabric cool against her skin.
Glancing back at the two men, she felt a strange mix of emotions—satisfaction, confusion, and a burgeoning sense of her own strength. She turned and silently left the room, closing the door behind her with a gentle click.
The palace was still quiet in the early morning light, the hallways bathed in a soft, golden glow. Isabella made her way back to her chambers. Her mind began to focus on her son, Ikkar, and the sense of purpose that always filled her when she thought of him.
As she entered her room, the familiar sight of her son’s crib brought a smile to her face. Alicent, having anticipated her return, stepped back with a nod of acknowledgment. Isabella moved to the crib, her heart swelling with love as she looked down at Ikkar, his tiny chest rising and falling with each peaceful breath.
She gently lifted him into her arms, feeling the warmth of his small body against her. The simple act of holding him grounded her, reminding her of what truly mattered amidst the complexities of palace life. Isabella sat in the cushioned chair by the window, carefully adjusting her robe as she began to nurse him.
The room was filled with a sense of tranquility, a stark contrast to the fervent chaos of the night before. As Ikkar fed, Isabella stroked his hair, her thoughts drifting back to the intensity of the night at the bathing house.
As Isabella sat in the cushioned chair by the window, gently nursing her son, the door to her chambers opened. Lady Belet entered, followed by a servant carrying a tray laden with breakfast. The smell of fresh bread and fruit mingled with the scent of the morning air.
"Good morning, my lady," Lady Belet greeted, her tone respectful yet firm.
"Good morning," Isabella replied, her voice soft as she continued to feed Ikkar. "Thank you for bringing breakfast, but I'm not very hungry."
Lady Belet exchanged a glance with the servant, who quietly placed the tray on a small table by the window. "It's important for you to eat, my lady," she said gently but insistently. "And to drink the wine."
Isabella's brow furrowed slightly in curiosity. "Why is the wine so important?"
Lady Belet stepped closer, her expression serious. "The wine contains a medicine, my lady. It will prevent you from becoming pregnant."
Isabella hesitated, trying to find a way to express her thoughts delicately. She glanced at Lady Belet, her cheeks flushing slightly with embarrassment. "It's just... about the wine," she began, her voice faltering. "Prince Damian... he didn't... He didn’t spill… I mean, there’s no need for..."
Lady Belet, sensing her discomfort and understanding her implication, raised a hand to gently interrupt. "I understand what you mean, my lady," she said with a knowing look. "However, it is still important that you drink the wine. It’s a precaution we must take, regardless of the circumstances."
Isabella looked down at the glass of wine, feeling the weight of Lady Belet's insistence. She took a deep breath and nodded, realizing the wisdom in her words. Maybe extra precaution didn’t hurt. "Very well," she said softly, lifting the glass to her lips.
Lady Belet watched as Isabella took another sip, her expression one of quiet approval. "Thank you, my lady. This is for your well-being and the stability of the king’s succession."
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