The Queen

27. Normal Circumstances

"Forgive me," he whispered, using every ounce of self-control to hold back the most carnal instinct.

She didn't utter a word. Like him, she was trying to stop something unknown and powerful. A part of her wanted to fall into that world—desperately—but another part warned her against it.

He gently grabbed her hand and began to walk, leading her behind him. Soon she realized he was taking her to her room. Philip remained quiet. She wondered if she had done something to upset him but didn't dare ask—she simply followed.

When they reached her chamber, Philip opened the door and gestured for her to go inside. Samira stepped in, but before he could close the door, she turned to him.

"Did I do something that upset you?"

She looked innocent and pure. That woman never ceased to amaze him.

"How can you ask such a thing, my love?" His voice was soft, his eyes filled with tenderness. "I'm not upset with you—only with myself."

"Why don't you come in? I'll ask Esma to fetch us some tea. Or wine, whatever you prefer."

"My love, it's better I retire for the night. I'll see you tomorrow." Philip kissed her forehead but didn't dare touch her lips—not tonight.

"As you wish," she said. The disappointment in her eyes pained him. He would talk to her in the morning and explain. But right now, he needed air and a strong glass of wine.

That night, sleep eluded Samira. She turned from side to side, again and again. The feelings Philip awakened in her were unfamiliar but felt right... and incredibly good. Is that what a husband and wife were supposed to do? If so, why had Philip stopped?

She hoped the sensations would fade with time, but his touch refused to leave her skin. Wrapping a shawl over her nightgown, she left her room. Barefoot, she rushed through the cold corridors of the palace.

Finally, she reached her destination and knocked. Footsteps approached. The door opened, revealing a shirtless Philip.

"Why did you leave?" she asked, her voice trembling with frustration.

"I... I..." Philip struggled to find words.

"Am I not your wife?"

He noticed the two guards outside his door listening intently.

"Please, come in."

Once inside, he quickly put on a shirt, poured her a glass of wine, and gestured for her to sit in the chamber's seating area.

"I was planning to apologize to you first thing tomorrow morning," he said, taking the seat across from her. "But since you cam—"

"Apologize for what?" she interrupted.

"I got carried away earlier. I needed time to cool down. You did nothing wrong. On the contrary." His voice was calm, careful.

But the fact that he felt the need to apologize made her even more upset.

"I see. I thought... um..." She looked away, her thoughts spiraling. It became painfully clear—her marriage to Philip was becoming more of a friendship. Alice was, and always would be, the woman he desired. Her heart shattered into a million pieces. Tears welled in her eyes as she rose and walked toward the door.

"Samira, wait!" Philip called, baffled by her sudden reaction.

But she kept walking, as if she hadn't heard him. He grabbed her hand and tried to pull her back, but she resisted, forcing him to act. In one swift movement, he pushed her gently but firmly against the wall and turned her to face him. His body blocked her in, painfully close. Her breathing quickened, her chest rising and falling. His gaze traveled from her neck down, desire burning inside him. He was about to explode. He wanted her. Needed her.

"It's not fair that you're doing this to me," he said hoarsely.

"You have the nerve to say that?" she snapped. "I've done nothing but try to make this marriage work, and I'm done fighting against another woman's ghost."

"What in the world are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about how you never spend the night with me. How you avoid intimacy. I'm not dumb, Philip."

He was at a loss for words. A long pause stretched between them.

"There's no ghost between us. Can't you see how crazy I am for you? I walked away earlier because I was about to do things I feared might scare you off. The last thing I want is to make you uncomfortable."

"Inappropriate? Kissing your wife is inappropriate to you?"

"Under normal circumstances, no. But things between us started rocky. I wanted to give you time and space. If I hadn't walked away, I wouldn't have been able to stop myself. Even now, with you standing in front of me in only a thin nightgown, it's taking every ounce of control—"

"Then don't," she interrupted.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. The kiss deepened, growing more desperate. Samira wrapped her legs around his waist. Philip met her eyes, searching for confirmation. Her gaze said everything.

He carried her to his bed and made love to her.

Over the next month, life unfolded more beautifully than either of them had imagined. Samira moved her belongings into Philip's chambers. They spent almost every moment together. Philip was surprised by her sharp political instincts and began to take her advice on matters of the kingdom. In return, he supported her as she took on more responsibility in her own kingdom, stepping in for her father, whose health was rapidly declining.

One morning at breakfast, Philip looked at her with concern.

"You look rather pale, my love. Are you alright?" he asked, sipping his tea.

Samira shifted in her seat, clearly uncomfortable. That worried him. He set down his cup and looked her in the eyes, waiting.

"Philip... there's something I need to tell you," she said, staring at the floor.

"Whatever it is, just say it. We can get through anything—I just need to know."

"I'm with child."

Philip blinked twice, stunned. He wasn't prepared for that—this was too good to be true.

"Are you sure?" he asked, almost afraid to believe it.

"Yes. The healer confirmed it. I'm sorry, I know it's too soon. I wasn't expecting it to happen this fast, especially now that—"

"What do you mean? This is the best news I've received in a very long time! I'm going to be a father!"

Philip jumped from his chair, crossed the room, and wrapped her in a hug. He lifted her and spun her around. Samira had feared his reaction, but seeing his joy lifted a heavy weight from her shoulders. She beamed, finally sharing in the happiness.

He set her down gently, knelt in front of her, and placed his hands on her stomach.

"Hello, little one. I'm your dad. I hope you can hear me, because I need you to know that I am the happiest man alive. I'll teach you so many things. Grow strong and healthy—two kingdoms are waiting for your arrival."

They both laughed. Philip stood and kissed the tears off her cheeks.

"Thank you for this surprise."

"Your Highnesses," Esma rushed into the dining room, breathless. "Forgive me for interrupting."

Samira noticed her panicked expression. Something was wrong.

"What is it, Esma? Please, speak," she urged.

"Your father, my lady... the healer summons you to the king's chambers."

Without a second thought, Samira ran, Philip right behind her.

When she reached her father's side, she saw it in his eyes—life was slipping away from him. She had tried to prepare for this moment, but nothing could ready her for losing the only family she had left in the world.