My Enemy, My Love

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔗𝔴𝔬

Prince Thyme [Sea]

The hall echoed with voices, laughter, the clinking of goblets and silverware, but none of it seemed to reach me. I sat near the top of the banquet table, my father, the King, at the head, a stern and poignant figure as always, while my mother's gaze drifted fondly over the crowded hall from her seat opposite me. Beside me, I could feel Luka's presence like an itch I couldn't scratch, an aggravating pull that only grew stronger every time he leaned in my direction, his arm brushing close as he reached for a dish, his hand refilling his glass and mine with an air of casual confidence that I envied and despised.

I wanted to get out of there, desperately. 

Ever since that night in the library, something strange had unraveled between us, a newfound tension that I couldn't quite name. Perhaps, it was similar to what we had felt at the pool, but only this time, it was more intense -- more destructive, risky. It was like the more time we spent in one another's company, the stronger the pull to be near him became, and it frightened me. I didn't want it to be this way, not then, not ever. But in the hall, inside the library, at the pool...we had seen each other at our most vulnerable; exposed and unshielded like nothing else mattered. 

My heart had pounded back then, a dizzying thrum of something I couldn't shake -- and here, now, it wouldn't stop. Each of his glances, every accidental brush of his arm against mine, set my pulse racing. And Sunday, the day I dreaded, loomed closer with each heartbeat.

I set my fork down, food suddenly heavy in my stomach. Across the table, Meili was caught in a spirited conversation with Anurak, surrounded by other Nobles. I was glad of their presence, pleased to have them by my side, but a part of my couldn't expel the guilt of my non-existent correspondence to them recently. I needed to talk to them. I needed to tell them what I couldn't even seem to admit to myself. 

Was it too late?

As I sat there, trapped, I could feel my breath coming quicker. I tugged at my collar, my chest tightening as anxiety swelled up like a wave. I closed my eyes, trying to anchor myself, to push down the nausea that threatened to spill over. Then, I felt it -- a firm, steady pressure on my thigh. My eyes flew open to see Luka looking at me, his face as unreadable as ever, save for the faintest hint of something softening his gaze.

"What's the matter, Thyme?" he asked, his voice low enough that only I could hear, his fingers curling slightly, dangerously close to... I clenched my jaw and swatted his hand away.

He only smirked, placing it right back where it had been, this time giving my thigh a quick squeeze that made my pulse quicken, his brow raised in mild amusement. "You look like you're about to faint," he murmured, his voice tinged with something sharper than concern, but softer than mockery.

"Do I?" I replied, trying to keep my voice steady, though I felt anything but calm. "Maybe it's because my fiancée seems to be getting a little too comfortable," I whispered back, venom lacing my tone, even though the heat building in me betrayed the warning.

Luka's eyes softened almost imperceptibly, the amusement fading. "Thyme," he said, this time lower, gentler. "Are you alright?" His hand remained, warm and unwavering, holding me there as much as he was grounding me. The closeness of it, the genuine tone in his voice, was maddening.

I couldn't stand it. "It's nothing," I muttered, jerking my leg away and forcing myself to reach for my glass. I took a sip of the wine, anything to distract myself from the lingering heat of his touch, his unwavering gaze that seemed to study me with an intensity I wished I didn't feel.

But even as I focused on my plate, I could feel his stare, hovering, watching, his silent presence affecting me more than any argument, any insult we'd thrown at each other before. And I hated it -- hated how much his touch and his gaze could unsettle me. And hated more that part of me, the part that I'd buried under layers of pride, wanted nothing more than to look back at him. 

+

The chill of the evening air was refreshing, clearing away the stuffiness of the banquet hall. Out here in the gardens, surrounded by the sweeping hedges, sweet scent of roses, and pale moonlight, I could breathe again. Meili's laughter sounded brighter out here, her eyes crinkling with the genuine warmth she always carried, and Anurak leaned back against the marble railing, his calm, steady presence a comfort. 

Meili tilted her head, examining me with that keen, perceptive gaze that had always been hard to escape. "So," she began, her voice casual but laced with an edge of concern. "Are you going to tell us why we haven't heard a word from you since the end of term?"

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. I'd been dreading this question -- especially from them. "I wanted to write," I said, meeting her gaze. "Believe me, I did. But..." My words trailed off as I struggled to find an explanation that wouldn't sound ridiculous. "Everything just felt... wrong. I didn't want to burden you with it."

Anurak's expression softened, a rare thing. "Since when have you worried about burdening us, Thyme?"

"Since this whole arrangement," I admitted, running a hand through my hair. "I didn't know how to tell you that this -- this marriage -- it's not just something I'm being forced into. It's... changed something in me." I paused, trying to convey what I couldn't quite articulate. "There's this part of me that feels... trapped and drawn in all at once."

Meili frowned, crossing her arms. "And Luka... is he the reason?"

"Yes," I admitted, hating how easily the truth came. "Or at least, part of it. It's like... everything I thought I knew about myself doesn't quite fit anymore. And I can't even explain it. This arrangement, this... thing with Luka, it's been killing me inside. The silence was the only way I could make sense of it."

"Thyme..." Anurak's voice was gentle, more serious than usual. "You don't have to carry this alone. I know it's complicated, but we're here. You're allowed to lean on us." He offered a soft smile, as if trying to lighten the weight of the conversation. "Even if your predicament sounds like a bad romance novel."

Meili swatted his arm, her eyes fixed on me. "We could have helped, or at least given you some support. But you shut us out."

Guilt gnawed at me, but I managed a weak smile. "You're right. I didn't know how to reach out. It felt like something I had to figure out myself, but now... well, here we are."

A blaring trumpet call echoed from inside the palace, halting our conversation. The sound reverberated through the gardens, summoning all guests back to the hall for the King's speech.

Meili sighed, rolling her eyes. "There goes our escape."

Anurak straightened, his smile fading. "We should get back."

Yes, indeed we should.

+---------------+

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