Chapter XCVII: Shattered

Isabella stood frozen in place, the weight of betrayal crashing down on her like a tidal wave. Her world, already fragile and torn apart by doubts and guilt, crumbled entirely.

Her grip on Ikkar tightened as the pain of what she saw consumed her. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. For a moment, she simply stood there, staring at the scene before her, unable to move.
Next to the king, the father of her son and the man she loved, Lady Dara lay completely naked, her body entangled in the sheets beside him.

The heavy door behind Isabella slammed shut with the wind, making a loud noise that echoed through the chambers. The sharp sound startled both the king and Dara awake.

Dara sat up quickly, pulling the sheets around her body. Her eyes landed on Isabella, and with a sneer, she hissed, "What are you doing here? How dare you disturb His Majesty's sleep!"

The king, still groggy and disoriented, blinked in confusion. His gaze shifted from Dara to Isabella standing in the doorway with Ikkar in her arms. His brow furrowed as he tried to piece together what was happening. “Dara,” he asked, his voice rough with sleep, “what the hell are you doing here?”

Before Dara could utter a word in response, Isabella turned and fled from the room, unable to bear the sight any longer. The king, panicked, quickly wrapped himself in the sheets and stumbled after her, calling her name as he followed her back into her chambers.

“Isabella, wait!” he pleaded, his voice strained with urgency. “Let me explain!”

Isabella stopped and slowly turned to face him, tears streaming down her cheeks, her arms wrapped tightly around Ikkar, who now squirmed restlessly in her embrace. Her voice cracked as she spoke, the words choking in her throat. “I’m… I’m sorry for disturbing your sleep.”

The king’s eyes softened with anguish as he stepped closer, his voice desperate. “Isabella, please… we need to talk.”

She shook her head, cradling Ikkar closer to her chest. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her lips trembling. “But I need to tend to the prince.”

“I’m so sorry,” the king repeated, his voice breaking as he moved toward her, guilt and panic rising in him. “Please, Isabella, just listen to me.”

But before he could take another step, Isabella let out a sharp cry, her voice filled with pain and anger. “Stay away from me!” she screamed, taking a step back, her body trembling with a mix of grief and fury.

The sound of his mother’s distress made Ikkar begin to wail in her arms. Isabella immediately turned her attention to her son, her face crumbling as she kissed his head and whispered frantically, “I’m sorry, Ikkar. I’m so, so sorry…”

Tears streamed down her face as she rocked him, trying to soothe him despite her own heartache. The king stood frozen, watching the woman he loved break down in front of him, powerless to do anything but watch. The distance between them had never felt greater.

Isabella refused to leave her room the entire day. She kept her windows tightly closed, shutting out the world, the light, and any remnants of warmth. The memory of Alaric and Dara lying in bed together haunted her, replaying over and over in her mind. It twisted her stomach in knots, a sickening, relentless feeling of betrayal that made her feel like she would never be clean again. She felt disgusted, not just with Dara but with herself for allowing her heart to be so exposed, so vulnerable.

Alicent was the only person Isabella allowed in her room, her presence a small comfort amidst the storm. The king tried to speak with her multiple times throughout the day, knocking on her door, pleading for her to let him in. But each time, Isabella remained silent, her resolve hardened. Finally, Alicent stepped in, telling the king it would be better if he waited until Isabella was ready to speak.

Late at night, Lady Belet entered the room carrying a tray of food, her steps careful and quiet. She set it down on the table by Isabella’s bed. “My lady, you need to eat something,” Belet said gently, her eyes filled with concern.

Isabella shook her head, her voice hoarse and tired. “I don’t want anything,” she muttered, turning her head away from the tray.

Lady Belet sighed softly, standing beside her with a look of quiet determination. “I understand,” she said, “but I’ve also been asked to keep you informed of what’s been happening in the palace.” She hesitated before continuing, “Senator Arun has formally requested the annulment of his marriage to Lady Dara. He claims the wedding was never even consummated.”

Isabella’s brow furrowed slightly, but she said nothing, her eyes fixed on a distant point beyond the room.

Belet continued, her voice lowering, “The king asked me to give Lady Dara a tea to prevent her from conceiving a child, but… Dara rejected it. She forced herself to vomit after every attempt.”

Isabella’s stomach twisted again, not out of jealousy, but out of a deeper revulsion for the entire situation.

“Lady Dara is under great scrutiny,” Belet added cautiously. “The king… he’s very sorry, my lady. He wishes to speak with you.”

Isabella remained silent, her heart aching with a pain that no words could soothe. She didn’t care about Dara’s defiance or the senator’s actions. All she could feel was the weight of her betrayal—the deep, soul-crushing wound that Alaric’s actions had carved into her. Nothing else seemed to matter.

moment, staring at the darkened ceiling before she murmured softly, almost to herself, "I thought I was enough."

Lady Belet's face softened with sorrow, and she knelt by Isabella’s bedside. "Don’t let these thoughts break your spirit, my lady," she urged gently. "You need to be strong—for yourself, and for your son."

Isabella’s lips trembled as she whispered, “I thought he loved me.”

Lady Belet sighed, brushing away the tears that had begun to slip down Isabella’s face. “I do not doubt that the king loved you, Isabella,” she said softly. “But as I’ve told you before, a king’s affections are fleeting, unpredictable. It was never reasonable to expect His Majesty to never take another woman again. That is his nature.”

Isabella closed her eyes, a fresh wave of grief washing over her. “I gave him everything,” she said, her voice breaking under the weight of her pain.
Lady Belet lowered her head, her heart heavy with regret. “I know, my lady. I’m very sorry.”

The next morning, the king stood outside Isabella’s room, unsure of what to say or what he would hear once he crossed the threshold. His heart pounded with anxiety, guilt gnawing at him as he slowly opened the door and stepped inside.

Isabella was standing by the open windows, her back to him, gazing out at the gardens. The morning light framed her in a soft glow, and she wore a beautiful green dress that only accentuated her grace. She looked as stunning as always, but his heart sank when he noticed the slight swelling around her eyes, a clear sign of the tears she had shed through the night.

The king approached her cautiously, every step filled with regret. He stopped a few feet behind her, his voice soft and filled with remorse. “Isabella,” he began, “I’m so sorry. I drank too much during the feast, and… I don’t even remember bringing Dara to my room. But I swear to you, I never meant for this to happen. I’m deeply sorry.”

Isabella remained still for a moment, her gaze never leaving the gardens. When she finally spoke, her voice was cold, distant. “I heard Senator Arun is requesting an annulment of his marriage to Dara.”

The king blinked, taken aback by her sudden shift. “Yes,” he answered slowly, unsure where she was going with this. “That’s true.”

Isabella turned her head slightly, just enough for him to see her profile. “That means Dara will be bound to your harem again.”

The king immediately shook his head. “I no longer have a harem, Isabella. I gave that up for you—”

“Clearly that wasn’t a good idea,” Isabella interrupted, her tone cutting. She turned to face him fully, her eyes sharp and filled with pain. “Since I was never going to be enough for you.”
The king stepped forward, reaching out as if to touch her, desperation lacing his words. “Please, don’t say that. You are more than enough for me—”

“No,” Isabella said firmly, taking a step back. Her voice cracked, but her expression remained cold. “I gave you everything, and still, I wasn’t enough. Your words mean nothing when your actions betray them.”

The king’s hand fell to his side, his heart aching as he looked at the woman he loved, knowing he was the cause of her pain. He had no words left, no way to fix what he had broken. All he could do was stand there, consumed by the weight of his regret.