THE KING'S POSSESSION

Chapter 77

Chapter 77: Is the boy mine?



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"When the time is right, I shall ascend to the throne, and you shall serve me, Sir Gayle. Should Isabel bear a child, be it a boy or a girl, it matters not. Your foremost duty is to protect the child at all costs. However, if the child should perish, you are to abort the mission." Princess Leticia's voice was steady as Sir Gayle kept his head bowed, listening intently.

"I shall see to it that Isabel is freed from the dungeon, and you shall take her far from the palace. You must wed her before her condition becomes apparent. If possible, win her affections to ensure her past feelings for the king do not hinder our plans." She paused, taking a step closer to the knight.

"You know well that Victoria was already with child before she set foot in our kingdom. I shall not permit her to claim the crown that rightfully belonged to my mother. She may have deceived my foolish brother, but she shall not deceive me. I will claim both the crown and the throne, and you will aid me in this endeavor."

"But before all else, we must allow Victoria her triumph for the meantime. Be aware that she will have me imprisoned and hidden away, but do not be alarmed. I still have ways to communicate with you." She breathed and then added. "Lucian will know Victoria's scheme but will do nothing, for he shall blame me once he discovers I orchestrated Isabel's disappearance."



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"I... thought you loved me... You're just like everyone else. No different from Lucian. Never show yourself to me again. I despise you." Isabel's voice trembled, her eyes red with tears and burning with hatred, her fists clenched tightly.

"Isabel, no!"

Tristan jolted awake from his nightmare, drenched in sweat. Gasping for breath, he sat for a while while his heart pounded as the vivid memory of Isabel's hatred lingered in his mind. He took one deep breath and finally decided to wash his face. He stumbled to his feet as he made his way to the small basin in the corner of the room. The cold water splashed onto his skin, providing a brief respite from the trouble inside him. He stared at his reflection, haunted by the pain in Isabel's eyes but still tried to gather his strength.

He then grabbed his coat as the fabric was heavy with the damp chill of the morning air. He ventured out while the sun had not yet fully risen, intent on finding someone to care for Liam during his absence. His dream had triggered the guilt inside him. Although the primary plan was to secure Liam, deep down he knew he wanted to save Isabel too.

He loves her.

He loves her so much it was unbearable.

He longed to see her again and hold her in his arms and tell her the words he could not utter before.




~



Lucian stood in front of the throne hall, gazing at the grounds where a grand banquet was once held. It was at that very banquet where he first saw Isabel. Her kind blue eyes and bright golden locks had captivated him instantly. The memory of her radiant smile and gentle demeanor played vividly in his mind.

But now, another memory overshadowed that moment. The memory of Isabel, soaked and wounded under the pouring rain, standing by the edge of the cliff with arrows piercing her body, pained him deeply. The sight of her, fragile yet defiant, haunted his thoughts.

Dark circles were visible under Lucian's eyes. He had not slept well for days since losing Isabel. The sorrow and regret gnawed at him and it was a constant reminder of what he lost. He hadn't spoken a word since that day, his silence echoing through the palace.

Despite their best efforts, they had never found Isabel's body. The uncertainty of her fate only added to his torment, leaving him in a perpetual state of anguish and longing.

Lucian stood in front of the throne hall, draped in white royal mourning garb, a symbol of his grief. His eyes were vacant, staring blankly at the empty expanse before him, lost in the memory of Isabel and the tragic events that had unfolded.

"Your Majesty, please, you must change out of your mourning robes," a lower-ranked minister said softly, his head bowed respectfully.

Today marked the end of the official mourning period for Isabel. Lucian was expected to resume his duties at court, yet he seemed disconnected from the world around him. His silence and distant demeanor spoke volumes of his heartache.

Without acknowledging the minister's plea, Lucian turned and walked past him, each step heavy with sorrow. He then made his way to the palace court while his mind was clouded and heart burdened.

Lucian entered the grand court and took his place on the throne, his presence weighed down by grief. As he settled into his seat, a voice suddenly pierced through the somber atmosphere.

"My king, you must rouse yourself!" Minister Marlowe's voice rang out with an edge of indignation. "You sit before us draped in mourning garments for a woman who was never your wife! The queen is present!" He gestured emphatically towards Queen Victoria, seated beside Lucian.

Another minister chimed in, emboldened by Marlowe's audacity. "It is disgraceful, Your Majesty. The court needs a strong leader, not one who wallows in sorrow for a mere mistress!"

Then another one joined, his voice dripping with contempt. "Your priorities are misplaced, sire. Mourning a woman like Isabel while neglecting your duties to the kingdom and the queen is unacceptable!"

Insults and accusations echoed through the hall, each word like a dagger to Lucian's already wounded heart. His sorrow began to simmer into rage, the pain in his chest tightening until he could bear it no longer.

With a sudden, explosive movement, Lucian drew his sword and slammed it into the floor. The metallic ring reverberated through the hall, silencing the ministers instantly. The shockwave of his action left them wide-eyed and speechless.

"I will not hear another word!" Lucian's voice thundered through the court, his eyes blazing with grief and fury. "Do not forget to whom you speak! Isabel was more than any of you could understand. If you value your positions, you will hold your tongues!"

Lucian descended from the throne, each step echoing ominously in the hall. His eyes were ablaze with fury and they bore into Minister Marlowe. As he reached him, Lucian leaned in, his voice a deadly whisper.

"Be very careful, Head Minister. I may have been forced into marrying Victoria to protect Isabel, but now that she is gone, I will not hesitate to strip you of everything you hold dear, even your life," he snarled, his teeth clenched in barely restrained rage.

The tension in the hall was evident and the ministers were frozen in stunned silence. Lucian's grip on his sword tightened, and for a moment, it seemed as if he might point it at them. But instead, he turned sharply on his heel and walked back to his throne, each step resonating with his authority.

"Let us not forget who sits on this throne," Lucian said, his voice cold and commanding. "I will not tolerate disrespect for the memory of my beloved. She may not have been your queen, but she was everything to me. The next man to insult her will face my wrath."

The ministers exchanged uneasy glances as Lucian's words settled heavily upon them. Even Victoria who was seated beside the king, seemed taken aback by his fierce declaration. Lucian resumed his seat and took a deep breath.

"Now," he continued, his voice regaining a semblance of composure, "let us proceed with the matters of the realm. But be warned—my patience is thin, and my heart, though broken, remains unyielding."

The ministers finally acquiesced as their murmurs of dissent finally faded into uneasy compliance. Lucian raised his hand, a gesture of authority and command that silenced the room.

"Let us begin with the first matter of court," he announced, his voice steady but charged with intensity. He paused, sweeping his gaze over the assembly of ministers, allowing his presence to settle upon them. His eyes finally landed on Queen Victoria, piercing and unrelenting.

"Is the prince my son," he asked, each word deliberate and dripping with menace, "or the child of another man?"

A stunned silence fell over the hall. The ministers exchanged uneasy glances, their previous bravado evaporating in the face of Lucian's fierce gaze.

Queen Victoria's face paled, but she quickly regained her composure attempting to defend herself. "How dare you question my fidelity?" she spat, her voice trembling with rage and fear.

But Lucian's eyes only narrowed as he stood once more and took a step closer to her. "Answer the question," he demanded, his voice cold and unyielding.

"Is the boy mine?"