The Queen

9. Porcelain

Someone was desperately knocking at Esma's door, and she ran to open it.

"Your Highness, is something wrong?" Esma was surprised to see Prince Philip at her door.

"Yes, Samira, she—"

"What happened? Is she alright?" Esma interrupted.

"Please, follow me."

Philip took long, fast strides, and Esma hurried behind him, nearly running to keep up. When they entered the room, Samira was lying on the bed with her eyes closed. Esma rushed to her, kneeling beside the bed and grabbing one of her hands.

"What happened?" Esma asked, her voice shaking.

"She was attacked," Philip replied, concern in his voice, his hands tucked into his pockets.

Esma covered her mouth with her other hand.

"Oh my God! Attacked? How?"

"Somewhere in the forest. She left the castle grounds."

"Why would she do that?"

Philip looked down. How could he possibly answer that? The simple question made guilt twist inside him. A knock at the door broke the tension. Esma's accusatory gaze lingered on Philip as she walked to open it.

"I was told to come and see the princess. I'm the court healer," said an older man, his face mostly hidden beneath a long, curly white beard. He wore a brown cloak with a robe tied at the waist.

"Yes, thank you for coming. Please, come in," Esma said, stepping aside.

The healer observed Samira for a few moments.

"What happened to her?" he finally asked.

Philip explained everything that had happened only hours earlier, avoiding Esma's hard stare.

"Will you get tea for the princess?" the healer asked Esma once Philip had finished.

"Yes, of course."

"But not just any tea. I need you to follow my instructions."

"I will."

"Go to the kitchen and ask for Lora. Tell her to prepare a sleeping tea for the princess. Do not leave until the tea is done, and return here immediately. Give her the tea—it should help her rest. I believe her injuries are more emotional than physical. She should be fine by tomorrow."

"Yes, sir. If that's all, I must go now."

"That will be it."

Esma left quickly, walking as fast as her feet would allow. She was in such a rush she didn't notice the man coming from the opposite direction, and they bumped into each other. The man caught her by the waist to stop her from falling. They looked into each other's eyes for a few seconds before Esma pulled away.

"I'm sorry," she said, looking down, avoiding the stranger's gaze and the smirk on his face.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"I must go, sir. I have an urgent matter to attend to," she said, and ran off, feeling his eyes follow her.

Meanwhile, Philip sat in a chair next to Samira, unable to take his eyes off her beautiful face—her natural pink lips, her rosy cheeks, her long lashes, the porcelain look of her skin. Features he had never truly noticed before.

A knock at the door pulled him out of his trance. He opened it and found Alice standing there. He stepped out and closed the door behind him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.