The Queen

22. Divine Script

Samira tried to sleep that night, but her eyes wouldn't close. Her mind was restless, spinning thoughts she couldn't quiet. She turned over again and again, clinging to the hope that sleep would come. It never did.

She finally gave up and slipped out of bed, pacing the room in frustration. The stone walls, once silent protectors, now felt like a prison closing in on her. A sudden urge to leave overcame her. But she wasn't allowed—after her escape attempt, the guards had been ordered not to let her out of their sight, especially at night.

"Guards, what is that noise?" she asked, cracking the door open and poking her head out. Her messy hair and sleepy expression helped sell the lie.

"Forgive me, my lady, we didn't hear anything," one of the guards replied.

"How could you not? It woke me up. Please, check the back of the palace. I'll try to go back to sleep, but I don't want to be woken again."

"Your Highness, we cannot leave our post," the other guard said.

"I'm not going anywhere. Look how late it is. I'm exhausted. I'll be asleep before you even return."

The guards hesitated, then obeyed. She was the queen, after all—how could they refuse?

The moment they turned the corner, Samira slipped out, not even bothering to throw on a cloak over her white nightdress.

Barefoot, she walked across the damp grass. The cold dew on her skin made her feel alive. She tilted her head back, staring at the sky, her heart crying out to the gods. Why had they disfavored her? Why had her life become a waking nightmare?

"You do have a talent for slipping past my guards as you please, don't you?"

The voice came from behind. Familiar. It startled her.

"I've been doing it since I was a little girl. Practice makes perfect," she replied, turning to meet Philip's eyes.

"Like the day we first met in the forest? That was foolish. I could have captured you."

"But you didn't. Perhaps you should have. Our fate would be different now. Kalon would be yours—without the burden of our marriage."

"Perhaps. But I didn't know who you were then."

"A pity."

"Why? In the best-case scenario, you would've been a slave instead of queen."

"I'd take that over this life."

Philip looked down, searching for the right words. "I wish I could've given you a better life."

His voice carried the weight of a truth too heavy to speak aloud.

Now she was the one looking away, the wind playing with her hair and nightgown—both wild and free, the way she longed to be. Tears blurred her vision. She tried to hide them.

A gentle finger lifted her chin. Philip was closer now, his green eyes locked on hers. His hand slid from her chin to her cheek, his fingers grazing her skin with aching tenderness. The look in his eyes threatened to unravel her.

"Tell me how to make it better," he whispered. "And I will."

"Release your brother."

Philip paused, unsettled. The idea that Samira might love his brother gnawed at him.

"You want that so badly, don't you?"

She nodded.

"Why?"

"It's a burden to know this all started because of me. It's not fair someone else pays for my mistakes."

"It's not your fault."