The Queen

10. Brave

"This is a little weird, don't you think?"

"What do you want, Erick?" Henry replied, visibly annoyed.

"Nothing. I was looking for you, and then I find you here, staring at your brother's wife in a way many would consider... questionable."

"They're not really together," Henry said, his eyes never leaving Samira as she walked through the garden, her maid holding an umbrella over her head. She was completely oblivious to the fact that her brother-in-law was watching her from one of the castle balconies.

"What do you mean, they're not together?" Erick asked.

"You know Philip has a relationship with Lady Alice. Well, that relationship never ended. He loves Alice, not Samira."

"And how exactly does that help you, buddy?"

"Let's just drop it," Henry replied.

"Are you aware that your brother will one day be king—and his wife, queen?"

"I am. What's your point?"

"My point is simple: what you're thinking is called treason. Do you know the penalty for that?"

"Stop with the negativity, Erick. I don't need it right now."

Erick had been Henry's best friend since childhood. They were always close. He could tell what Henry was thinking, and he knew it would not end well for anyone involved. He had to talk sense into him before it was too late.

"Who's that with her, anyway?" Erick asked. He recognized the woman escorting the princess from the day before—the one who had bumped into him in the hallway in such a hurry that she hadn't noticed him until they collided. He still remembered the moment their eyes met, and the strange feeling of connection that followed. A goofy grin spread across his face, but she had run off before he could say anything.

"Her maid. She came with Samira from Kalon. I believe her name is Esma, or something like that. Why?" Henry turned to look at his friend, only to find his intense gaze fixed on the maid.

"Just asking."

"Right... Well, let me remind you that your family would never approve of a title-less maid as your wife."

Erick's family wasn't just wealthy—they had noble lineage. He was set to inherit his father's title as the Duke of Albany, and everyone expected him to marry a well-connected heiress.

Esma looked up and noticed Erick's eyes on her. She immediately recognized him as the man from the hallway the day before. She tried to look away, but her gaze drifted back up to the balcony—he was still watching her. The moment felt awkward, and she was relieved that Samira hadn't noticed.

"Milady, the king requests your presence," Esma said, closing the door behind her.

"Oh... does he? What for?" Samira asked.

"I'm not sure. I heard something about archery games. It's a tradition here in Esparcia."

"I suppose I can't say no, can I?" Samira said, taking a deep breath.

"I'm afraid the king—and your husband—would be quite displeased if you didn't attend, Your Highness."

"My husband? He wouldn't even notice if I were there or not. You and I both know he's... preoccupied with other matters."

"Is that... another rose?" Esma asked, eyeing the deep red flower lying on the bed.

"It is. Every morning after my walk, I return to find a new rose in my chambers. I have no idea who's leaving them. But whoever it is... it gives me hope. It's comforting to know someone cares enough to do this."

"Aren't you curious to find out who it is?" Esma asked.

"I am, but part of me doesn't want to know. I'm afraid the magic will vanish if I do. Now, let's go. As they say—duty calls." Samira stood up, and Esma followed her out.

Outside, a huge crowd had gathered. Villagers filled wooden benches while the front rows were reserved for nobles. The royal family sat under a fabric-draped tent in the most prominent spot.

"Thank you for coming. It means a lot, especially after everything that happened," King James said, rising to greet Samira.

"Your Highness, thank you for inviting me." Samira bowed.

"I want you to learn our customs and traditions. It will help you become a great queen—one who understands her people."

"I'll do my best to learn," she replied with a warm smile. The king reminded her of her father, and that thought brought a rare comfort to her heart.

"Maybe she could start by keeping her husband out from under another woman's skirt," the queen said bitterly, drawing everyone's attention.

Samira was stunned by the harsh words, and the king shot his wife a sharp glare.

"Please, take a seat," he said to Samira, his tone curt now. The last thing he wanted was to put more pressure on the poor girl—she'd already endured too much.

With watery eyes, Samira sat down next to her husband's empty seat. She smoothed the skirt of her dress and looked up—just in time to see Philip walking toward the crowd, Lady Alice on his arm, a wide smile on her face.

Philip's eyes met Samira's. His smile faded the moment he saw the tear sliding down her cheek. Alice, noticing the sudden tension in his body, followed his gaze.

"Is everything alright, my love?" she asked, gently touching his cheek to redirect his attention.

"Yes... I'm fine. Let's just take our seats."

"Of course."

Philip and Alice sat among the other nobles, his place next to Samira still empty. The sight infuriated King James. The gathering had stopped being about archery—everyone was now talking about the scandal.

Samira kept her eyes down on her lap. Nothing in her royal upbringing had prepared her for this kind of humiliation. She longed to return home—to her father, to her people, the ones who truly valued her. It was for them that she came here in the first place. She wouldn't let them down. Even if she wanted to leave, she couldn't. She lacked the resources, the knowledge, and—worst of all—anyone who might help her.

The games began, and noblemen and soldiers competed, aiming their arrows at the target's center. Samira did her best to remain calm, trying to ignore the whispers and sharp glances.

Then, in what felt like slow motion, she noticed a horse tied to a post just a few meters away get stung by a bee. Agitated, the horse broke free and galloped wildly—straight toward a small boy playing in the sand while his parents were distracted.

Without a second thought, Samira sprang to her feet. She ran as fast as she could, scooping the boy into her arms and leaping out of the horse's path just a heartbeat before it thundered past. The force of it all knocked her to the ground, the child still safely held in her embrace.

The crowd fell into stunned silence, then erupted into applause and cheers. The boy's parents rushed to them, embracing their son and thanking Samira profusely.

The people chanted her name, shouting words of gratitude and admiration—an unexpected wave of warmth and appreciation from those she was determined to serve.