The Queen

24. Fight for you.

Samira felt renewed after one of Esma's baths. The woman had a gift for blending oils—each mix left Samira feeling rested and soothed. Today, her skin and hair carried the sweet scents of honey and jasmine. Esma helped her from the bath, then left to fetch some tea.

Wrapped in a sheer white robe that clung to her damp skin, Samira walked back toward her chambers. Just as she reached for the door, it slammed open.

Philip.

Her eyes widened in shock. The nerve of this man. Rage quickly replaced her surprise.

"What do you think you are doing?" she snapped.

Philip shut the door behind him. He was seething. The moment the guard delivered Samira's refusal to see him—for the third day in a row—he nearly choked the man.

His eyes landed on her, and everything inside him clenched. The thin, wet fabric of her robe revealed far more than it covered. He stepped toward her, a wolf stalking his prey. Samira's heartbeat quickened, her feet retreating one step at a time until her back hit the wall.

He was too close. She hated how her body betrayed her around him—how the air felt too thick, how her breath caught.

"What are you doing to me?" he whispered, voice low and raw.

"You have to leave, Philip. Leave me alone. I'm not falling for your games again."

"What are you talking about?" he asked, inhaling the scent at her neck—sweet, intoxicating. A shiver ran down her spine.

"Why are you refusing to see me? I was going crazy."

"I don't believe a word you say." She placed her hands on his chest and pushed him back. The moment their bodies separated, she felt the loss. So did he. She quickly grabbed a nearby shawl and wrapped it tightly around herself.

"You're using me," she accused. "You need political stability."

"That's false. I had the perfect excuse to get rid of you when you ran off with my brother. Half my council advised your execution. Instead, I protected you. Do you know how weak that made me look as king? I spared his life—for you."

Tears welled in her eyes. She hadn't realized the full weight of her actions—how deeply they'd cut.

A tear slipped down her cheek. Philip reached up and gently lifted her chin, forcing her eyes to meet his.

"Please don't cry," he whispered. "I can't stand it."

"Let me go back to my father. I've failed—as a wife, as a queen. There's nothing left for me here."

"That's nonsense, and you know it. No one could rule better than you. The people love you. And how can you say you've failed as a wife when we've never even tried?"

He stepped closer again, softer now.

"Even if you were the worst wife, the worst queen, I would still choose you."

Her voice cracked. "Why are you saying this?"

"Because I want to try. Not just as king and queen, but as husband and wife. Why are you so stubborn? Why can't you believe me?"

She straightened. Her voice turned cold. "Because I saw your mistress leaving your chambers half-naked before dawn three days ago."

Philip froze.

What had she seen?

He remembered that night in flashes: Alice walking into his chambers with tea. He had planned to return to Samira—he remembered that—but somehow, he woke up next to Alice the next morning. Naked.

He had immediately told her to leave and later confronted her to make it clear it would never happen again.

"Look, I—" he began, but a knock interrupted him.

Philip sighed, jaw clenched. "What now?!"

"My lord," a guard called from behind the door, "you are needed in the throne room. The council is waiting."

Philip glanced back at Samira. "We're not done here. As soon as I'm finished, I'll find you." He strode out.

Later that day

Samira stood outside the council chambers, waiting for the guard to announce her.

"The Queen," he called.

She entered with poise and dignity. Philip, seated at the throne, looked up—and his features softened at the sight of her.

"My lord," she said, bowing. "If you permit it, I would like to join the council today. I believe I can be of use."

Murmurs rippled through the chamber. Whispers. Disapproval.

"Preposterous!" barked the Duke of Oldenburg. "Your Grace, I have served this crown under your grandfather and your father—God bless their souls—and never have I witnessed something so absurd. Women have no place in politics. It's against nature. Her Majesty's duties lie in bearing heirs, embroidery, and organizing banquets."

Philip stood, rage flashing in his eyes.

"How dare you speak to my wife like that?"

"My king, I meant no disrespect—"

"No? Then let me remind you. The day I was crowned king, she was crowned queen. You all swore loyalty to us both."

He turned to the room. "Tell me—did your service to my father or grandfather come with conditions? Did they need your approval for who could sit beside them?"

The Duke of Oldenburg said nothing.

Philip's voice boomed. "Anyone? Was your loyalty conditional?"

Silence.

"I thought so."

He turned to face the entire council.

"The Queen will sit at this council. Not because she is my wife, but because she is capable, wise, and trusted by the people. If anyone disagrees, you are free to leave—and never return."

No one moved. The room fell into a heavy silence.

"Good. This session is dismissed. You may go."

Footsteps shuffled quietly as the room emptied. When the doors closed behind the last man, Samira stepped forward.

"Thank you," she said softly.

She turned to leave, but Philip caught her arm.

"Can we talk?" he asked, his voice no longer commanding, but pleading.

"You don't have to—"

"I want to." He took a breath. "I need to. I'm not that man, Samira. I will fight for you—even if you don't want me to. I once wanted to be free to choose whom I would love. What I didn't realize was... I already had. My heart chose the moment I saw you in the forest.

If you want to leave—I won't stop you. But I'll fight. Just let me try. Let me prove it to you."

Samira's chest tightened. She wanted to believe him. But the image of Alice walking out of his room haunted her.

"Philip... I want to believe you. But I can't forget. Not yet."

"I understand. But give me time. Let me fix this."

"I..."

A knock broke the moment again. Philip's frustration was palpable.

"Enter!" he barked.

"My apologies, my lord," said the guard. "A messenger has arrived from Kalon. He brings an urgent message for the Queen."

Samira straightened, heart racing.

"Send him in," she said immediately.