My Enemy, My Love

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔖𝔦𝔵

Prince Luka [Jimmy]

Her laughter always set me off, it never failed. That strangled-mouse sound, sharp and ridiculous, was oddly endearing in its own way. It was part of what had drawn me to Praia, my servant, in the first place. Hired by my mother to meet my needs, she ended up in my bed more often than not, snorting into the pillows after something I said.

I wasn't bothered by the differences between us - her status as a servant, the fact she was five years my senior - it was all inconsequential. What I craved was the company, the touch of a woman, a distraction from the emptiness that filled these lonely nights. And Praia was always available, even if what we shared was strictly disapproved of within the palace walls. Everyone knew of our nocturnal rendezvous, but we simply chose to ignore their whispers and judgemental stares. 

Was it love? No. I didn't love her. I desired her, and to me, those were worlds apart - uncomparable. What we did was just a convenience, an escape. She was the first woman I'd ever made love to, and for that, perhaps, she held some small significance. But beyond that, she was irrelevant. Our nights together were moments of fleeting passion, hot, intense and chaotic loving, but what followed were hollow conversations, filled with nothing but short mumbles. 

Talking was not on my cards, even if she promised to listen. I knew she could not keep me from losing control, even if she tried, and the only person who never failed to find that solution was Ray. Ray - strong, hot-tempered, but known for his empathy, was the friend I could turn to for anything; likewise, he asked for my advice, and so we helped one another. But, like me, Ray had his own problems, and I couldn't always burden him with mine. He was a Lord; I was a prince, and our responsibilities differed. Just another distinction I liked to keep clear. 

I hadn't looked forward to returning home after exams. In fact, I had dreaded it all year. And of course, much to my misfortune, the year flew by quicker than expected. I feared the isolation waiting for me here, the inability to socialise, the absence of...him.

Yes, I still thought of Thyme - more often than I'd anticipated, really. It was strange, being so far from him now. For years, provoking him had become second nature, pushing his buttons, irritating him until he snapped. And now? Now he was gone. Out of view.

A part of me wondered if he thought about me, too. Did he miss the constant tension between us, the verbal battles, the way we pushed each other to the edge of patience? I didn't miss him -- not like that -- but I missed his reactions. The way his face contorted in fury when I pressed too far, the sharpness of his insults, the fire in his eyes. That infuriating smile of his that vanished when I struck a nerve.

Did he feel the same?

Suddenly, the door flew open, crashing against the wall with a bang. "Mama?" I blinked, startled as my mother stormed in, her crimson dress billowing behind her like a gust of fury. Praia and I barely had time to react before my mother's sharp eyes fell on us - on Praia, still tangled in the sheets, and me, smirking like a fool.

"Get. Out." The words were venom, spat between gritted teeth.

Praia quickly scrambled out from beneath the covers, her naked body wrapped awkwardly in a blanket as she gathered her clothes. She shot me a final mischievous look, her eyes lingering on my bare chest before she curtsied clumsily and darted out of the room, her cheeks flushed a deep crimson.

I barely had time to enjoy the sight of her disappearing before my mother yanked the curtains open, flooding the room with harsh sunlight. I winced, raising an arm to shield my eyes.

Mama spun on me with a fury that could have brought the palace down. "What have I told you about sleeping with the servants, Luka?"

I stretched lazily, unbothered by her outburst, though my smirk had already begun to fade. "I don't recall you saying much about it lately."

"You are a prince!" she snapped, hands on her hips, towering over me. "Act like one. I will no longer tolerate this behaviour. And nor will I let it be the subject of gossip in the palace corridors. This...adventure of yours ends now. Do you understand?"

I met her gaze, my smirk returning. "Yes, Mama."

She frowned, clearly not convinced. With a frustrated sigh, she bent down and scooped up my discarded clothes, hurling them at me. "Put something on, for heaven's sake."

I obliged, pulling my linen shirt over my head, the scent of last night's indulgences clinging to it -- sweat, tobacco. It was hardly fresh, but I doubted she cared. Mama strode to the windows, flinging the curtains wide open. The harsh sunlight pierced my eyes, and I raised a hand to shield them.

"We leave in an hour," she said briskly, turning to face me. "Your father and I."

"Leave? For where?" I asked, caught off guard.

"Bangkok. Business with the royal family." She didn't offer more details, and I didn't ask for them. The last thing I cared about was another one of Father's diplomatic errands. But something about this caught my attention.

"Bangkok?" I repeated, incredulity creeping into my voice. "What business could you possibly have there?"

She pursed her lips, clearly not eager to explain. "It involves an old agreement. Your father spoke of a document...it regarded a deal made long ago between our Kingdoms, and its reappearance has caused some uproar. We must handle this personally. Pray it does not require more than civility."

Her words hung in the air, vague yet weighted with a tension I couldn't quite place. But before I could question further, she swept from the room, leaving me alone once more. Bangkok. The very name left a sour taste in my mouth. Our family had despised the Kingdom of Bangkok for years, ever since the trade feud five years ago. And now they were going there in person? For what?

This document Father mentioned -- it likely held the key to a long-buried secret, or worse, a broken promise that was never meant to resurface. My thoughts drifted, back to Thyme. Was he aware of this as well? Did he think of me as much as I found myself thinking of him, despite every effort to the contrary? 

Damn him. And damn this place.

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