As the first light of dawn filtered into her chamber, Philippa stirred from a fitful slumber, her head throbbing with the relentless reminder of her ill-fated dalliance with ale the previous night. She blinked her eyes open, and her gaze fell upon a sight that made her heart race.
There, on a chair beside her bed, sat the young king himself, Baldwin, his features softened in the embrace of sleep. A surge of emotions flooded her as she remembered the chaotic events of the night before, a whirlwind of intoxicated boldness and passion.
A flush of embarrassment tinged her cheeks, and she buried her face in her hands for a moment. Memories of her uninhibited actions, her playful yet hazy confession, and the surprising turn of events swirled in her mind. It was an overwhelming cocktail of emotions that threatened to overpower her, from mortification to a secret thrill.
