THE PAIN IN THE ASS:YOUR HIGHNESS

ARTHIT:

I woke up that morning to the distinct sense that something was going to go horribly wrong. Call it a sixth sense, call it paranoia — either way, my gut had never been wrong before.

First, my tea was cold. That was sign number one. Then, a palace maid tripped over a broom in the courtyard and landed face-first in a pile of goose feathers. Sign number two. And then — just as I was trying to sneak back to my room with a stolen pastry — a royal messenger found me.

“The Queen requests your presence at once,” he said, looking like he might burst into tears.

I sighed. “Is it urgent?”

“She’s in a mood, sir.”

Ah. That kind of urgent.

When I arrived at the royal court, the air felt heavier than usual.

Every palace worker was standing stiffly in place, heads down, while Her Majesty sat on her throne like a thundercloud wrapped in gold silk. You could practically hear the collective gulp from the room when she raised a hand.

“From this day forward,” she announced, voice sharp as a blade, “the name Fay will not be spoken in this palace. It is forbidden. Anyone who dares disobey this command will answer directly to me.”

I didn’t dare glance at anyone, but I could feel the room collectively sweat. Everyone knew that name — Tawan’s ex, the woman who cheated on him with his snake of a cousin. But to have it banned outright? That was a new level of drama, even for this place.

The Queen continued, scolding ministers and rearranging royal duties like chess pieces. I did my best to stay invisible, nodding when required, scribbling nonsense notes on a scroll to look busy.

And then — out of the corner of my eye — I saw it.

Tawan.

Sneaking.

Or well… attempting to sneak.

The Crown Prince of our kingdom was tiptoeing behind the columns like a badly trained pickpocket, flanked by Minister Chakri and two guards, heading toward the eastern garden — which, I realized with a jolt, led straight to the river.

Not again.

I immediately tensed. The memory of pulling that fool out of the water the last time still haunted me. His face pale, lips blue, eyes wide in terror. The heavy weight of his soaked robes dragging us both down. The burn in my lungs as I kicked toward the surface.

And now he was going back.

While I was stuck in a meeting about forbidden names and etiquette violations.

I could’ve ignored it. Told myself it wasn’t my problem. But my feet were already moving.

I made an excuse. A bad one.

“Your Majesty,” I said, bowing quickly, “I just remembered I left a patient unattended. A very… contagious one.”

The Queen barely looked up. “Don’t let it spread,” she muttered, already turning to scold another official.

Bless her.

I slipped out before anyone else could stop me.

By the time I reached the eastern gardens, they were gone.

The guards at the gate said something about a ‘brief observation of the river.’ I didn’t stop to scold them. My heart was pounding. My stomach twisted. I knew Tawan well enough by now to recognize that look in his eye when he was planning something idiotic.

I sprinted.

When I reached the riverbank… I was too late.

There was shouting. Guards waving their arms. Ministers in a panic. One of the palace monks had dropped to his knees in prayer. And in the middle of it all — a ripple of water, a splash, and then… nothing.

“Tawan!” I shouted, scanning the surface.

No head. No limbs. No ridiculous crown bobbing on the water.

My blood turned cold.

Without thinking, I stripped off my outer robe and dove in.

The water was freezing.

It hit me like a wall, but I pushed through it, kicking hard, heart pounding in my ears. Visibility was terrible — silty, dark, and thick with riverweed. But then I saw it: a pale blur sinking fast.

Him.

His arms limp, hair floating around his head like some tragic noblewoman in a bad romance scroll.

I reached out, grabbed his wrist, and hauled him up. He coughed, spluttering water into my face.

“What were you thinking?!” I snapped as we broke the surface.

He blinked, dazed. “I thought… maybe it would take me back. To my world.”

I swear to every ancestor watching from the heavens, if he wasn’t half-drowned, I’d have dunked him again.

“To your world? Your world?” I snarled, kicking us toward shore. “Do you have any idea how many rules you just broke? How dangerous this is?!”

He coughed again. “But… what if it worked?”

“It didn’t.”

We reached the bank, and I dragged him up onto the grass, ignoring the cluster of panicked nobles swarming nearby.

“You’re an idiot,” I muttered, pressing a hand to his forehead.

His skin was cold but still warm enough to be alive.

He grinned up at me. “Thanks… again.”

“Stop making me rescue you.”

“Can’t promise.”

I groaned. I didn’t have the energy to argue. Not when I was this relieved. Not when every part of me had gone from terror to fury to… something dangerously close to fondness.

“You looked like a drunk duck,” I said.

He wheezed a laugh. “Majestic?”

“Absolutely not.”

And then — because it was easier than admitting how scared I’d been — I flopped down beside him, both of us dripping wet, our chests heaving.

The ministers argued. Chakri glared daggers. The Queen would probably have both our heads later.

But for a moment, none of that mattered.

Because he was alive.

And against my better judgment — against every rule in this cursed palace — I was starting to care.

Far too much.

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