Chapter 25 The guard
The days passed by slowly with Isabella slowly accustomed to secluded life. Her meals were had in her room, and she'd been allowed access to the garden close to her quarters only once.
She'd passed the days with little to no anticipation, but today, today was different.
Elias was supposed to visit.
Isabella scoffed at the use of the word visit. Surely, her own son couldn't be visiting her.
“Not today, Isabella.” She sighed softly as she pranced before the mirror.
She needed to look her best. She was going to see Elias today and that was going to be the highlight of her day.
She couldn't allow clouds of sadness envelop her.
“You're ready my lady,” Mira said softly, taking a step back.
She too was slightly excited, not because of Elias per sè but the fact that her mistress was full of life.
Isabella nodded approvingly, her hands patting her dress. “He loves purple.” She said to no one in particular. “Says it makes me look ethereal.”
Mira bobbed her head in agreement. “He's not wrong Ms Thorne. You do look ethereal.”
Isabella blushed softly, her cheeks reddening.
“I think they're here.” Mira craned her neck, stopping the conversation.
“They?” Isabella spun. “Am I not supposed to see Elias only? Why is Lucien here?”
“No, Ms Thorne.” Mira shook her head. “It says that you can't see him unsupervised.”
“Oh…” her mouth formed an O, as she gave a bitter smile.
“I understand,” she tried to make the words sound normal, but anybody with half a head on their shoulders would have figured that she was hurt.
A soft knock sounded on the door and Elias jumped in. “Mommy!”
His excitement was palpable as he jumped on her. “I've missed you. Where have you been?”
Isabella laughed softly, her pain momentarily forgotten.
“Mommy has missed you too, baby.” She rubbed his head as she set him down to observe him gently.
Only then did she notice the young man standing by the door, his expression trained on her and Elias.
She cleared her throat.
“And you are?” She raised a brow.
“Marcus, Ms Thorne.” He bowed softly. “Your personal guard.”
Isabella nodded, hesitating before turning her attention back to Elias.
“Are you okay, Mommy? You haven't been eating with us and Daddy says that you're sick and have to stay away from everyone else until your sickness has a cure.”
Isabella was too stunned to react. “Daddy says I'm sick?”
She reiterated.
Elias bobbed his head. “But he says you're getting better and would soon join us.” The little boy continued innocently.
“Ah…” Isabella muttered softly. Elias didn't know what was happening and it gladdened her heart. At least the palace gossip hadn't filtered into his ears.
“Daddy is very correct, baby.” She ruffled his hair, making him grumble while pulling back from her.
She knew he hated it. He always complained that he was not a baby.
“So what have you been up to?” She forced herself to continue, ignoring the ache in her heart.
The boy shrugged. “I've been taking lessons.”
Isabella sat up as though she was genuinely interested. Actually, she was. But this wasn't what she wanted to hear or do.
She wanted to experience the cool evening breeze with her little boy, talk about mundane things and not all these.
Even though he tried to hide it, he seemed guarded with her. His answers looked kike they had been rehearsed time and time again.
She forced herself to pay attention as the little boy yapped.
“Wow, that's amazing”
“Oh really,”
Isabella interjected at every little turn.
“Are you hungry?”
She asked once, seeing that the boy had been talking nonstop.
Elias shook his head, puzzled at the question.
“We've had lunch already, Daddy and I.”
She glanced at the wall clock standing on the dressing table. It was barely noon.
She opened her mouth to speak but a soft knock interrupted her.
Betty poked her head, before stepping inside fully.
“Ms Thorne,” She acknowledged bowing slightly.
“Is it time already?” Isabella asked softly, her lips thinning.
Betty nodded. “I'm sorry, Ms Thorne.” She looked remorseful.
Isabella waved her hand. “It's okay, Betty. It's no fault of yours.” Her hand trembled as she spoke. “I can always see him some other time.”
Her voice shook as she glanced at her son. Thirty minutes with him had gone by so far that she hadn't realised.
She hadn't even asked him some of the things she'd been curious about before the meeting.
“C’mon little man, your classes start soon,” Betty spoke softly as she urged Elias up.
“The one with the teacher?” His voice was excited.
Isabella bit her lips, tasting blood. A part of her had thought the child would be reluctant to leave her.
But here he was happy and excited at the mention of his class.
She looked at Betty quizzingly.
“Classes?” Her eyes did the speaking.
Betty nodded. “Yes, Ms Thorne. His Majesty insisted that the young prince take some history and etiquette classes.
Isabella nodded. She hadn't been informed, nor had her consent been taken.
Her smile faltered, as the pieces began to fall into place.
“Who set up the young prince’s schedule?”
“Mrs Louvre, Ms Thorne.”
Isabella nodded. The old witch was sly.
She waved her hands. “I shouldn't keep you waiting.”
Betty bowed slightly and led the young prince out of the room.
The guard remained.
“Do you have a child, Marcus?” Isabella asked out of the blue.
“Excuse me?” He turned, stunned that she was speaking to him.
She smiled sadly. “Do you have a child?” She asked again, the facade that she'd put up in front of Elias gone.
He shook his head. “I have a niece.” He supplied.
Isabella sighed. “That should do. You must love her right?”
The young man grimaced at her, clearly in a fix. “I'm sorry my lady, I don't think I'm supposed to be talking to you.”
She scoffed. “You're in my quarters and you're my personal guard. Who else is gonna talk to me if you don't?”
The room fell silent as she allowed the gravity of her words to sink in.
“So, you must love your niece, don't you?” She repeated.
Marcus grunted.
“Then you must know how it feels for you not to see her again.” She pressed.
Marcus grunted again.
Isabella smiled. She was actually enjoying the conversation.
“Come here, Marcus.”
He jerked his head up in surprise.
“Come here.” She repeated, her fingers calling him.
“Ms Thorne.” His voice was fearful, shaky. “His Majesty…” he stopped, afraid of completing the words.
Isabella scoffed. “Lucien isn't here, is he?”
She stood up slowly and sultrily. “You must have heard what happened here the previous night, didn't you?”
She made her way towards him.
She was playing a game. A very dangerous one, but it had been a really long time since she'd had fun, and she was going to have one now.
The boy hesitated, his face flushing red. “I…”
“C'mon, Marcus, don't be shy.” She stopped in front of him.
He was towering above her, but in that instant, Isabella felt like the boss and he was just a tool.
She was enjoying the game a little too much.
There was barely any distance between them.
She could hear the ragged breathing of the young man in front of her.
“You could hear my screams, couldn't you?” She pushed, her hand circling his shoulder.
“My lady, please.” He pleaded. “His Majesty will have my head if he finds out.”
His words made Isabella giggle. “If, being the keyword there, isn't it?”
She said and made her way back to her chair. “He's made his decision, and I'm making mine.”
She sat down gracefully, crossing her legs, before looking up to face him.
“I like you, Marcus… you're young, handsome,” She let her voice draw.
“And I think you can satisfy me…”
She smirked at the rush of colour on his face.
“As you said, you're my personal guard, so you know and must have heard the ongoings in this room.”
The young man nodded.
“Good. You can go, Marcus.”
He raised his head, surprised at the change in her voice.
“I'll send for you, when I want.” She'd barely finished speaking when he dashed out of the room.
Isabella giggled, stopping herself from laughing hysterically.
“That felt good.” She muttered, staring at her reflection in the mirror.
She was happy she'd indulged a bit in her inner child, but now that the indulgence was over, she was faced with reality.
Mrs Louvre had deliberately set up Elias’s classes to be after he visited her, so that the young prince would not spend more time than he should in her chambers.
The sly fox.
Slowly, she pulled off her earrings, took the wipes from the box and cleaned her makeup off her face.
This was going to be her routine till Lucien saw fit.
Days
Weeks
Months
Or years.