THE KING'S POSSESSION

Chapter 88

Chapter 88: A Mother's Unspoken Plea

As the words left Ilyana's lips, "You are my daughter, Isabel... And I am your mother," Isabel's reaction was swift and visceral. She stood up abruptly with her eyes wide in shock and disbelief. "N-no... Your Excellency... You are mistaken... I... My mother... is Teressa... She was the one who gave birth to me," Isabel insisted, her voice trembling with the weight of the unexpected revelation.

"Isabella..." Ilyana began, but her words were cut off by Isabel's sharp retort.

"No! Do not call me by that name! I am not your daughter!" Isabel's voice rose, filled with confusion, fear, and denial. The raw emotion in her voice was like a dagger to Ilyana's heart as the words reverberated in the room like a harsh echo of a long-forgotten wound.

Ilyana gasped with her hand flying to her mouth as if to stifle the sob that threatened to escape. Isabel's rejection was like reliving the moment her infant daughter was stolen from her, but somehow, it cut even deeper. The hope and love she had held onto for so many years felt like it was crumbling before her eyes.

"I... I apologize..." Ilyana stammered, her voice barely a whisper as she struggled to maintain her composure. She bit her quivering lips, desperately trying to hold back the tears that welled in her eyes. The strong, regal empress felt utterly vulnerable and broken. It was as if her carefully constructed facade was slipping away. She stood up with her hands gripping the fabric of her dress tightly and knuckles white with the effort to keep herself together.

Without another word, Ilyana turned and walked towards the door, her movements stiff and deliberate. Each step felt heavy, as if she was walking away from the very piece of her heart she had just found. As she exited the room, the door closed behind her with a soft thud, the sound echoing the end of the moment.

Isabel stood there as her own heart pounded with guilt and confusion. She could feel the sting of her words, the harshness with which she had spoken to the woman who claimed to be her mother. The sight of the empress's pain-stricken face, her shoulders hunched as if bearing an invisible weight, stirred something deep within Isabel. It was as if her own heart was breaking, a mirror of the pain she had unwittingly inflicted. The room felt suddenly cold and empty, the air thick with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. Isabel's thoughts raced, torn between the life she had known and the shocking truth that had been laid before her.

After their intense conversation, Ilyana withdrew into herself, retreating to her chambers and effectively shutting herself off from the world.

Days passed without a sign of the empress. She refused meals and did not emerge from her room, leaving the palace servants deeply worried for her health. Ilyana's silence and isolation cast a shadow over the palace which was a contrast to the warmth she had once shared with Isabel.

Despite Isabel's initial shock and confusion, she still found herself missing Ilyana's presence. The revelation of her true identity was overwhelming, threatening to upend everything she had ever believed. Yet, the absence of the woman who had been so kind and maternal toward her left a hollow feeling in her chest. She couldn't help but think of the laughter and conversations they had shared that was now replaced by an unsettling silence.

In her unease, Isabel began to walk the palace halls with a deliberate routine, always passing by the grand room where she had often seen Ilyana. She hoped to catch a glimpse of the empress, to perhaps see her sitting with a book or gazing out the window. But each time, her hopes were dashed; there was no sign of Ilyana, not even a glimpse of her distinctive golden hair.

One morning, as Isabel strolled through the palace courtyard, the serene beauty of the day seemed at odds with the tension she felt inside. Her eyes wandered to the sky, following the flight of birds as they darted and danced in the air. One small bird caught her attention as it flitted to a window ledge. Isabel's gaze followed, and she noticed the grand steward drawing back the curtains of the window. An idea sparked in her mind.

Determined, Isabel quickly removed her shoes, setting them aside. The rough stone beneath her feet was cool and solid, grounding her as she steeled herself for what she was about to do. She glanced around, ensuring no one was watching, and then took a deep breath. Feeling both of trepidation and resolve, she began to climb the stone wall, carefully finding footholds and gripping the edges of the masonry.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she ascended as the courtyard seemed to grow further away with each step upward. The wind tugged at her hair, and the rough texture of the stone scratched at her hands, but she pressed on. The thought of reaching Ilyana, of breaking through the barrier of silence that had fallen between them, propelled her forward. She reached a narrow ledge and paused to catch her breath, her fingers gripping the stone tightly.

Isabel's heart raced as she hoisted herself up to the window. Isabel peered inside and she almost immediately felt a sudden chill as she took in the scene before her. Ilyana lay on her bed, looking frail and pale. The grand steward stood nearby with his face etched with concern, while another man, likely a doctor, checked the empress's pulse.

After a few moments, the doctor sighed, removing his glasses. "Your Grace, I implore you to please start eating. Your health is deteriorating." His voice was gentle yet firm, filled withgenuine concern. The grand steward nodded in agreement, bowing with respect. "Empress, you are a kind ruler. The empire still needs you. If all of this is about Isabel—rather, the princess—I advise you to please have another talk with her... Perhaps then, she can finally understand."

But Ilyana only gave a faint smile, a ghost of her usual warmth. She then slowly sat up, assisted by the steward. "No... Alistair was right... Our daughter would never want such a burden on her shoulders..." Her voice was soft, tinged with sorrow. Isabel could see the glistening of unshed tears in Ilyana's eyes, tears that the empress quickly wiped away, refusing to let them fall.

"Are you saying..." the steward began, his voice filled with shock and disbelief, clearly catching the implications in the empress's words. "But you had just met the princess, Your Majesty..."

Ilyana sighed heavily with a resigned sound that seemed to carry the weight of the world. "I will not force her into something she does not want. I..." She paused, collecting herself. "Those few months with her are already enough for me. If she wants to go, let her go and let her take whatever she needs. I do not want her to look at me with hate, just as her father did... I... I just might not be able to bear it... I am already content to wishing her well."

"Empress..." the steward murmured, his voice evident with sympathy and concern. The room fell silent as the burden of Ilyana's words seemed to press on them.

Isabel who was stealthily hidden outside, felt her heart shatter. The raw pain in Ilyana's voice, the depth of her love and the fear of rejection, struck a chord deep within her. She hadn't realized she was crying until the tears touched her skin, their warmth contrasting sharply with the cold stone she clung to. She gasped softly as she pulled away from the window, overwhelmed by the truth she had overheard. Isabel was desperate to escape the emotions crashing over her that she hastily climbed back down while her heart was pounding. As she reached the ground, her mind was already drowned in fear and sorrow. Fear of being thrown away like Lucian did to her, and the sorrow of losing someone like she lost her son.