My Enemy, My Love

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔒𝔫𝔢

Lord Saetiao [Khao]

The news had reached us by dawn. The King of Bangkok was dead.

I stood by the window in my study, gazing out over the subdued streets of Kelasin. Even here, where the war had yet to scrape its bloodied claws across our doorsteps, there was a hush in the air—thick, like smoke before fire. A silence that clung to the skin and whispered of change.

Prince Thyme, or rather, King Thyme now, had taken the throne with his husband, Luka. The nation had barely had time to grieve before the Crown was passed like a torch on the battlefield. And while the Kingdom mourned, the war raged on. Word had it that the West had been driven back—a surprising turn of events. Lord Anurak's forces had held firm, even advanced, reclaiming a considerable stretch of the disputed territory near the Yiran Valley and the rugged sprawl of Udon Kham. I did not know Anurak personally, but his name now echoed across the maps pinned to every war chamber's walls. A golden boy cloaked in the blood of his enemies.

In the weeks following, Prince Ray had married the Lady of Krabi, strengthening Phuket's power base. A move made of logic, not love. Still, the stability it offered was undeniable. The nobility had clapped, drunk wine, and praised it as a wise decision. I had not attended. I had more pressing matters to consider.

Chiefly, my own wedding.

The arrangement with Lord Chuo had, mercifully, been delayed. War had a way of reshuffling the priorities of the powerful. I had savored every postponement, every breath of reprieve from the looming noose of that altar. The longer the war went on, the more I hoped it might vanish altogether, swallowed up in the storm.

But peace, it seemed, was never truly mine.

That evening, just as I settled into the quiet crackle of my fireplace, a servant knocked. "Lord Chuo has arrived, my lord. He requests an audience."

"Now?" I snapped, already knowing the answer.

The servant bowed his head. "He insists."

Of course he does. I ran a hand over my jaw, sighing. "Send him in."

Moments later, the door opened, and there he was. Lord Chuo—always so composed, so calculated. He stepped in without hesitation, his expression unreadable, dark eyes flickering briefly around the room before settling on me.

"Lord Saetiao," he said with a nod.

"Chuo," I returned, not bothering to stand.

He took the seat opposite me, the firelight dancing across his sharp features. He said nothing at first, just sat, studying me. The heat from the hearth wrapped around us, but the chill between us remained.

"News of the King has spread," he said finally.

"I heard," I muttered. "The Crown changes hands faster than the wind these days."

He tilted his head slightly. "We are living in extraordinary times."

"Is that what you call them?" I leaned back, swirling the wine in my goblet. "Extraordinary? I'd call them something less poetic."

A pause. "Prince Ray's marriage has already yielded results. Reinforcements from Krabi have fortified the southern line. The alliance has been well received."

I scoffed. "And what? You think ours will yield the same applause?"

He gave a curt nod. "It already has. The Council approved the announcement last week. Nobility across Kelasin have offered support."

My goblet clinked as I set it down, the sound far louder than necessary. "Let me guess, my name was second to yours. That is the order, isn't it? Lord Chuo, the pillar of Kelasin. Lord Saetiao, the pretty ornament."

He didn't rise to the insult. That was what irritated me most about him. His calm. His lack of emotional engagement. "You are not an ornament. You are one of the wealthiest and most influential landholders in the eastern provinces. This is a political marriage. You know that."

"I had a different political marriage in mind," I snapped, sitting forward. "The princess we had so tirelessly fought over. Young. Sharp. Her family was desperate for alliances. I could have secured the same outcome without—"

"She is no longer available to you."

His voice cut across mine, firm but quiet. Final.

My jaw clenched. "So you've made sure of that?"

He looked at me steadily. "No. But she has been engaged to a provincial prince of Yala. It was decided weeks ago, you fool."

Silence. I could hear the fire crackling again. My fingers curled around the edge of the chair.

"This is what you want, then? Truly?"

His gaze didn't waver. "What I want does not matter. This is what Kelasin needs."

I almost laughed. "That's very noble of you. But don't pretend this isn't about control. You want power—absolute power—and marrying me means you don't just keep your title, you double it. We both know I hold more power than you...I always have."

Chuo stood then, slowly. He moved toward the fire, hands clasped behind his back. "I won't deny that this union benefits me. But it benefits you, too. You know it. That's why you haven't walked away."

I stared at the back of his head, filled with the kind of rage that wasn't loud or explosive—but cold, and bitter. The kind that curled beneath the skin and stayed there.

"You think I haven't tried?"

He turned to face me. "You think I haven't noticed? The stalling. The delays. The carefully chosen absences."

I said nothing.

"You will marry me, Lord Saetiao. Because your estates are under pressure. Because your allies are stretched thin. Because, deep down, you know that Kelasin cannot afford its two strongest lords acting in opposition."

He approached me slowly. "And because despite how much you loathe me, you respect me more than anyone else in that court."

His words stung more than they should have. Perhaps because they rang true.

I didn't stand. I refused to look up.

Chuo placed a folded paper on the table beside me.

"These are the revised arrangements. The wedding is now scheduled for the end of next month. You have until then to prepare yourself."

Then, without waiting for a reply, he turned and left, his footsteps echoing through the hall outside.

I stared into the fire, barely hearing the door close.

So it was to be this way.

The kingdom might survive the West. But I—Saetiao, son of cold ambition and colder fate—was to be caged by my own province, by duty, and by a man I could not stand.

And the worst part?

He was right.

I could not walk away.

Not anymore.

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