The meeting was unplanned.
Or perhaps it was inevitable.
The Queen had dismissed her guards at the edge of the inner gardens, claiming she wished to walk alone. Moonlight draped the marble paths in silver, and the fountains whispered softly, as if aware they were witnesses.
Aydin was there by chance—or so it seemed—guiding his chariot away after a late summons. When their paths crossed beneath the date palms, both of them stopped.
Silence stretched.
"You should not be here alone, Your Majesty," Aydin said quietly.
"And yet I am," she replied. "So are you."
Their eyes held longer this time. There was no formality left to hide behind. No reins to grip. No crown to steady her.
"I keep thinking of you," she admitted, the words escaping before caution could stop them.
Aydin's breath caught. "That is not wise."
"I know."
She stepped closer.
The space between them felt charged, fragile, aching. He could smell jasmine in her hair, feel the warmth she carried with her despite the cool night air.
"You look at me as if I am only a woman," she whispered. "Not a queen."
"I don't know how to look at you any other way," he answered.
Her hand rose, hesitated, then rested against his chest. He did not move away.
That was the moment everything changed.
The kiss was slow—uncertain at first, as though they were testing the edge of something dangerous. Then it deepened, hunger surfacing beneath restraint that had been held too long.
Years of silence. Of loneliness. Of duty.
All of it broke.
Aydin's hands trembled as he held her, as if afraid she might vanish if he loosened his grip. The Queen pressed closer, breath unsteady, her veil slipping free and falling forgotten to the stone.
For once, she did not carry a kingdom.
Only desire.
They moved together into the shadows of the garden pavilion, lantern light dim, the world reduced to shared breath and racing hearts. Words were no longer needed. Promises were made without sound.
The night closed around them, merciful and discreet.
When dawn crept over Al-Zahra, the Queen stood alone once more, adjusting her veil, her pulse still unsteady.
Aydin was gone.
As if he had never been there.
Yet her lips still remembered him.
And far beyond the palace walls, the desert wind carried a truth neither of them yet understood,
Love, once awakened, demands a price.
And fate never accepts payment in halves.