The Queen

25. Going back to the start

"Gentlemen, thank you for coming. I understand you were summoned on very short notice."
Philip's tone was confident and authoritative—this king role was beginning to suit him.

"Is everything all right, my lord? We are concerned," one council member asked.

"The queen and I will be leaving for Kalon early tomorrow," Philip said. "We've received word from her father, King Odo. His health is rapidly declining, and the queen wishes to bid him farewell before it's too late. His physicians have advised us to prepare for the worst. I've decided to accompany her—to support her. As you know, she has no siblings or close family to lean on. In my absence, the queen mother will be named regent. My secretary is preparing the documents as we speak. I will sign them shortly. My mother will keep constant communication with me regarding the kingdom's affairs. Gentlemen, do not hesitate to submit correspondence—I may be absent in body, but not in duty."

"My lord," another man asked cautiously, "are we preparing to assume control over Kalon's government once King Odo passes? Their laws forbid a woman from ruling, and Queen Samira is his only living descendant."

Philip's expression didn't waver. "The queen and I are focused entirely on King Odo's health. Our only wish is to arrive in time to see him alive. Whatever happens after... will be dealt with when the time comes. I have no doubt the king has a will in place, and I intend to honor it—as does my wife."

The council members exchanged glances, some with evident disappointment. For centuries, Esparcia had one ambition: to conquer Kalon, claim its riches, and possess its fertile lands. It was becoming clear that King Philip was developing a soft spot for Queen Samira.

The next morning, Philip and Samira departed. They rode together in a private coach; their servants followed in another, trailed by a dozen mounted guards.

Philip watched her quietly. Samira's eyes remained fixed on the narrow window, her lips moving in silent prayer—pleading for more time, just enough to see her father alive.

"You didn't have to come," she finally said, still staring at the road outside.

"I know," Philip replied. "But I wanted to."

"Why? Because you think I won't return? Not long ago, I tried to escape."

"No," he said softly. "I fear that you want to leave me every day. Every morning, I wake wondering if you're still here... or if a guard will tell me you've vanished. I want you to be my queen, not my prisoner. When the time comes, whether you stay in Kalon or come back with me—that will be your choice. I came because I know you need someone beside you. And I knew if I didn't... you'd most likely go without saying goodbye."

Her gaze turned from the window, finally landing on him. She studied his face, searching for insincerity—but found none.

"Why this sudden change? Are you finally making arrangements to live happily with Lady Alice? If I stay here, it gives you the perfect excuse to annul our marriage. You'd be free to marry her—and have a just cause to invade Kalon. Whatever I do, I lose."

"I don't blame you for thinking that," he said. "But before this trip, I did two things. First, I announced to my council my intention to honor King Odo's will—no matter what it states. I'll sign official documents in Kalon if it makes you feel safer. Second, I instructed my mother to find a home for Alice. Away from the palace. Away from us."

Samira let out a dry, disbelieving laugh. Her heart jumped at the words, but part of her refused to believe them.

"And you expect me to believe that?"

"No," he said gently. "I don't expect anything. I only did what I felt was right. Whatever happens next is in your hands—and in God's."

They sat in silence for the rest of the journey, lost in separate thoughts.

Upon arrival, Samira ran through the halls of her childhood home, her heart pounding with hope and dread. A guard opened the chamber doors, and she stepped in. The room was dim and heavy with stillness—only her footsteps echoed on the stone floor.

Her eyes landed on the figure lying in bed. Covered in soft white linens, his white beard now nearly translucent, King Odo looked nothing like the commanding ruler she once knew. He was a frail shadow of that man—his face worn with the toll of ruling, every wrinkle a chapter of hardship.

She reached out, taking his limp but warm hand—warmth that comforted her countless times, warmth that once meant home.

Tears welled in her eyes.

"My little girl... is that really you?" a weak voice rasped.

"Father!"

"You came. I knew I wouldn't die without seeing you one last time."

A sob escaped her lips. "I missed you so much. What will I do without you?"

King Odo gave her a tired smile. "You don't need me. You don't need anyone. You've always known that... here." He touched her heart.

"No, Father. I'm not strong."

"You're stronger than you think. Remember when you were little? Your tutors always complained how you hid from them—how you wrapped them around your finger. You were wild, yes, but always sure of what you wanted."

"That little girl is gone."

"No. She's standing right in front of me."

She kissed his hand, gently, reverently.

Just then, the healer entered and bowed. "Your Highnesses. Forgive the interruption, but the king must rest. His strength is fading. I beg you—let him sleep now."

"I understand," Samira said. "Father, I'll be back in the morning. Rest now."

She kissed his forehead and left.

She wandered the palace, the familiar halls unchanged. Her feet moved with memory until they brought her to the gardens—her favorite place. The green trees danced with the breeze, the horizon burned orange with the sunset, and the grass looked as soft as she remembered.

In the distance stood a man.

He was turned away, watching the sunset. Her instincts told her to turn back—but something deeper told her to stay.

The man turned. It was Philip.

She should've run, but her feet refused.

He walked toward her slowly. They stopped, face to face, breath to breath. The memory of their first meeting in this very place surged between them—unspoken but vivid.

Philip broke the silence. "How I wish I could turn back time to the day I met you here."

"What would you have done differently?" she asked.

"Everything. But for starters—this..."
And he kissed her.