My Enemy, My Love

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔗𝔴𝔢𝔩𝔳𝔢

Prince Thyme [Sea]

We had been at the Royal Palace in Bangkok for over two weeks.

Two weeks of restless nights, of waking in cold sweats and hearing whispers echo down marble corridors. Two weeks of watching my mother wither beside my father's bed, while outside those very walls, the world we once knew continued to crumble. Anxiety coiled like a viper around my spine. My father's condition worsened daily. The physicians said it was only a matter of weeks. And outside, the war drew nearer.

I'd sat through countless meetings with the King's most trusted advisers. Their voices, once strong and confident, now quivered with barely contained panic. Maps were unrolled, ink bled across parchment as provinces were marked red: invaded, fallen, compromised. A thousand soldiers had already been dispatched. More followed each day. The West had swallowed one of our own—a Kingdom that had chosen surrender over resistance. If another joined them, the entire political structure of the country would collapse. We were hanging by a thread, and I—I was acting as Regent.

Luka had been there for every one of those meetings, lounging like sin incarnate on velvet cushions, but listening, contributing, arguing. He had a mind for war, sharper than most generals I'd met, and despite myself, I began to rely on him more than I would ever admit.

But it wasn't only his mind that haunted me.

Not since that night in the drawing room.

It had been two weeks, and still, I couldn't stop thinking about the feel of his fingers against my skin, his mouth hot on my neck. I'd told myself I hated him, that I despised everything about him—his arrogance, his games, his unpredictability. But some part of me, buried deep and smothered by shame, wanted more. I couldn't tell if it was love or lust, if it mattered, or if I was simply using his body to distract myself from a kingdom about to fall into chaos. Whatever it was, it made focusing during these meetings a constant battle.

A meeting had just ended. Luka and I walked side by side down the corridor, our footsteps echoing over the polished stone.

"They'll move on Kalasin next," Luka said. "It makes the most strategic sense. If they can push south, they can divide us completely."

I nodded, massaging my temple. "We need to reinforce the borders tonight. I want those messages sent out immediately."

Luka glanced sideways at me. "You're starting to sound like a King."

The words made me stiffen.

"I'm not ready for that," I muttered.

Luka slowed, catching my arm. His fingers moved rhythmically over the fabric of my sleeve, and my heart leapt in my chest before I could stop it.

"You'll never feel ready," he said, more softly than I'd expected. "No one ever does. But you're already doing it, Thyme. The meetings, the decisions, the strategy. The only thing missing is the crown."

I opened my mouth to argue, but his fingers slid up to my jaw. He gently pushed my chin upward and kissed me. It was soft. Uncomplicated. No heat or lust or games. Just the press of lips and the faint scent of jasmine oil clinging to his collar.

I pulled away first, flustered.

He grinned. That infuriating, knowing grin.

"I need to see my father," I said stiffly. "I should tell him what we discussed."

"I'll come with you," he offered.

"No. I need to do this alone."

He didn't listen.

Minutes later, we stood together at the door to the King's chamber. My mother rose from the chair beside the bed as we entered. Her face was pale, lined with fatigue, but she still held herself like a Queen.

"Thyme. Luka." Her voice was quiet but warm. "He's been awake on and off. Today... today has been a better day. If you can call it that."

I approached the bed slowly. My father, the man who once rode at the head of our armies, looked like a shadow of himself. His skin was pale, his chest rising and falling with the shallow breaths of the dying. I knelt beside him and took his hand.

"Father," I said, voice low. "We met with your advisers again. The situation... it's worsening. One of the Kingdoms has joined the West. We've dispatched more soldiers. Luka helped draft the newest orders."

"They'll reinforce the mountain passes," Luka added, stepping forward. "Kalasin will hold for now, but we need to prepare for a full-scale invasion."

My father opened his eyes. They were bloodshot, glassy. But he saw me. He saw us both.

"You must do what I cannot," he whispered, each word an effort. "My son. My heir. The kingdom is in your hands now."

"Don't speak like that," I said quickly. "You still have time. We still have time."

He smiled faintly.

"No," he said. "We do not. You are Regent now. Soon... King. Lead them, Thyme. Not with fear. With honour. With love."

He closed his eyes again, his hand tightening briefly in mine before going slack.

I sat there a moment longer, head bowed. The silence in the room was immense. I could feel Luka behind me. I could feel everything.

Later, as we walked back through the halls together, Luka said nothing. Not until we reached the balcony, the dusk light bleeding red across the skyline.

"You'll make a good King," he said eventually.

"How can you know that?"

"Because I see you, Thyme. I always have."

His words cut through everything—the grief, the war, the confusion tangled in my chest.

I turned to face him.

And for a moment, I thought I might fall.

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