Chapter 2

The first light of dawn filtered through the wooden slats of Est’s tiny room, painting the cracked floorboards with pale gold.

He lay for a moment longer beneath his coarse blanket – listening to the quiet rhythm of his mother stirring in the kitchen outside – and let himself breathe before the day began in earnest.

Today was the day that could change everything.

Est pushed himself up and reached for the small pitcher of water on the bedside table.

It was cold – bitterly so – but it chased the last threads of sleep from his face as he splashed it across his cheeks and ran wet hands through his dark hair.

He paused to look at himself in the tarnished mirror propped against the wall – brow furrowed in thought.

His hands were rough, his tunic worn at the sleeves – evidence of years spent doing whatever work would earn him a coin.

And now there was only one debt left – the one his father had left them after he’d died too early.

He paused a moment – hands braced on his knees – as he thought of his father.

A famous soldier once, until an injury took him from the battlefield and eventually took his life too. Est could still picture him – broad-shouldered and kind-eyed – teaching him to hold a sword properly, telling him that discipline and heart mattered more than brute strength.

Those lessons had carried Est this far.

He rose and began to dress, pulling on the plain tunic he’d cleaned carefully the night before.

He was no stranger to hard work – ever since his father’s passing, he’d taken on every odd job that came his way, upskilling himself where he could.

That was the only way to provide for his mother and his three younger siblings – two bright-eyed sisters and a small brother who still ran after him every morning as though Est were some sort of hero.

He had never stepped fully into the army.
But now, only a real soldier’s pay would clear the debts that had chained his family for years.

_________

“You’re up,” his mother greeted softly as Est stepped into the narrow kitchen.

She was already at the hearth, tending a pot of porridge, her hands steady despite the tiredness in her eyes.

And gods, she deserved better.

“Yes,” Est murmured, moving to help her set the small table.

And as they sat together – just long enough for him to eat – his mother watched him, hands clasped around her cup.

“You’ll do well,” she said at last – voice as warm as it was steady.

Est gave her a faint smile. “I hope so.”

He ate quickly, kissed each of his sisters on the top of the head as they set the table, and ruffled his little brother’s hair before stepping outside into the chill morning.

He left the house before the streets grew too loud – making his way across the winding cobblestone lanes as shopkeepers began to hang their signs and horses clopped past with early carts.

The path to the royal palace was long – cobblestone winding up into the hills – but Est moved at a measured pace, breath steady, hands flexing in quiet anticipation.

Est took a deep breath – filling his chest with morning air – and straightened his shoulders.

He was on his way to the palace to apply for the position of personal bodyguard to none other than Prince William Jakrapatr Kaewpanpong – third eldest son of King Niran Ananda Kaewpanpong and Queen Anya Asavananda.

The prince was famous even beyond the capital – Heir to an unpredictable temper and a beauty that had been called dangerous more times than Est could remember. He was one of six royal siblings, known not just for his beauty and sharp intellect, but for an intensity that few dared to look at directly.

And Est had heard the stories like everyone else.

He wasn’t sure what to believe – only that he could not return home empty-handed.

He arrived at the palace gates to find that the crowd was larger than he’d expected – men of all kinds lined up – 

Broad-shouldered mercenaries leaning against stone walls.
Keen-eyed archers with hands already resting on bowstrings.
Grizzled veterans in patched leathers, their hands calloused with years of service.

Est took his place among them – spine straight – hands at his sides – and though he felt the occasional glance lingering on him, he kept his gaze fixed ahead.

This was not a contest of strength.
It was a test of endurance, skill, and will.

And Est had spent his entire life preparing for it.

He wasn’t here to be the loudest, or the most dangerous-looking.

He was here because there was nothing left to lose.

And because if this worked – if he earned this position – then the debts that had shackled his family for years would finally be gone.

__________

Late afternoon light poured through the high, arched windows of the training hall, casting long golden bands across marble floors. The room smelled faintly of oiled leather, steel, and sweat – the very scents Est had grown up with.

He stood in a neat, tense line with a dozen other hopefuls, hands clasped behind his back, shoulders square. Every man here had trained for this day. Every one of them dreamed of a place in the royal household – a chance to serve, fight, rise up.

But Est’s purpose was more desperate.

He thought of his mother in their small house beyond the city wall – of his siblings sleeping on mats by the hearth. Thought of the hounding debts his father left unpaid, creditors’ visits like circling vultures. This was more than an honor; it was a last hope.

Est’s hands felt damp against the polished hilt of the wooden practice sword, his thumb grazing its edge absently as he waited in line with the other men.

Word had spread for days that Prince William himself was selecting a personal bodyguard – someone who would stand by him at all times, travel at his side, and protect him with their life. Est had volunteered without a second thought – If there was one skill he had left to barter with, it was his skill as a swordsman.

And then the prince appeared.

Prince William cut a striking figure as he glided into the hall – taller than Est had imagined, lean but powerful beneath tailored dark blue silks and silver embroidery. Broad shoulders shifted smoothly as his hands folded at the small of his back. A sword glinted at his hip.

And his face…

He was beautiful – sharp cheekbones and a beautifully defined jawline framed by dark, tousled hair; lips curved into an unreadable smile; eyes the blue of a summer lake, but with a glimmer of something darker as they roved over the assembled men.

Est had heard all kinds of stories about the prince even before stepping into the hall.

Of all King Niran Ananda Kaewpanpong’s six children, it was Prince William who stirred the most gossip in the capital.

He was by far the most handsome of the princes – a face that could stop a room, a smile that could bend a will.

And yet, more often than not, whispered rumors followed him with a touch of exasperated fondness:

That the third prince was also the most nonchalant of his siblings – unconcerned with council meetings, rarely seen at formal affairs, forever slipping into courtesans’ chambers or disappearing into the city under some flimsy disguise.

That he spent too much time enjoying himself – too much wine, too much pleasure – and showed little interest in the burdens his name afforded him.

And yet – as Est’s gazed at the prince now – those idle rumors felt far too shallow.

There was nothing careless in the way William’s dark blue eyes pinned him like a hunter.

And Est suspected that whatever pleasures this prince chased, they were not merely distractions.

_____________

Every breath in the hall felt suspended as the prince began his slow inspection.

He paused before one candidate – an older soldier with scars across his brow – asked him a question too low for Est to catch. A short test followed – a flash of blade, one smooth counter.

The prince nodded, then moved on.

Next was a taller boy, strong as an ox. William tossed him a practice blade and told him to fight. Est’s hands flexed involuntarily at the sound of clashing steel and barked orders – William was quick, graceful, deliberate.

One by one, he paused before each man in line.

He quizzed one on the strength of his arm.
He tossed a dagger toward another to see whether they would catch it or flinch.
He asked questions that tested their loyalty – what they would do if someone offered them gold in exchange for betrayal.

And then those eyes finally fell on Est.

Est’s breath caught – and held.

Est felt the gaze like a touch across his face – like a weight.

“You,” William said, voice smooth and deep enough to send a ripple up Est’s spine.

Est stepped forward, pulse thudding.

“Your name?”

“Est Supha Sangaworawong, Your Highness” he answered clearly – the word tasting strangely bold on his tongue.

“You look like someone who has fought before,” the prince observed, gaze sweeping him from boots to brow.

“My father was a soldier,” Est replied. “He trained me well.”

The prince’s brow arched slightly. “And why do you wish to stand in my service?”

Est paused for one breathless heartbeat.

“To keep my family safe, repay my family’s debts. And my commitment to do whatever it takes to honor my late father’s name.” he answered honestly.

That earned him a slow nod. Something glinted in William’s eyes – intrigue.

“Pick up the sword,” William commanded. “Show me.”

Est obeyed without hesitation – hands sure as they closed around the wooden hilt.

“Attack me,” William commanded.

And Est did.

They crossed blades – wooden, yes, but the sharpness of the prince’s movements was not dulled. William was quicker than most men Est had ever fought. They circled one another, hands humming with adrenaline. William tested him thoroughly – stepping left, then right; testing Est’s footing with feints and gentle taps that could have left him exposed. But Est kept up. Even when William pushed him back toward the wall, he never lost his balance.

When they finally paused, the prince studied him with an intensity that made Est’s heart hammer.

“You fight like someone who has everything to lose,” William murmured as their swords locked – faces inches apart.

Est felt heat rise in his chest at those words. “I do,” he replied – breathless – and shoved him back with a sharp pivot.

That drew the ghost of a smile on William’s lips.

“Interesting,” the prince said as they broke apart – his gaze no longer simply assessing.

He put Est through a few more trials – sudden shifts of attack to test his reflexes, questions about tactics to test his wit. Est answered all of them as best as he could – eyes bright, heart pounding.

And when it was over, William stood a touch too close – dark gaze fixed on him in a way that felt thrillingly personal.

“You have a fire I admire,” William murmured. “And a certain sharpness.” – reaching out to trail a finger lightly over Est’s forearm as though testing its strength.

“You will wait for me,” William added – voice quiet as silk – “when this is done. Do you understand?”

Est felt heat unfurl low in his belly.

“Yes, Your Highness,” he answered – pulse quickening.

And as the prince held his gaze a long, charged moment – as if reading every hidden thought – Est could not help but wonder what game they had already begun.

And with that – with one final, lingering look – William turned, his cloak swirling in his wake as he moved back to the dais.

And Est was left standing in the hall – heart pounding – breath shallow – wondering just what lay ahead.

___________

The heavy doors swung open again a while later, revealing one of the palace stewards – his uniform immaculate, his voice measured.

“Est Supha Sangaworawong,” the steward announced – gaze sharp as it took him in. “His Highness would see you privately. Follow me.”

Est felt his pulse jump.

He glanced back only once at the empty hall, then moved after the steward without a word – steps steady even as his thoughts roiled.

He had prepared himself for anything – for more tests, for questions about his skill, for stern instructions on training regimens.

But what greeted him was none of these.

The steward led him up a winding staircase into a private wing of the palace – past arched windows that overlooked gardens bathed in amber light.

And then they paused outside a set of dark wooden doors carved with intricate crests.

“His Highness will receive you inside,” the steward intoned, then inclined his head and left.

Est hesitated a breath before pushing the doors open.

And immediately, the scent of warm spices and aged wood filled his lungs.

He stepped into a smaller hall – its walls hung with embroidered tapestries, the light from a hundred candles casting a golden glow across an intimate table set for two.

And seated at its head – legs crossed, hands loose on his knee – was Prince William.

The prince looked up at Est’s entrance and smiled – slow, knowing, and infinitely more dangerous up close.

“You’ve kept me waiting,” he drawled – though there was nothing truly reprimanding in his tone.

“My apologies, Your Highness,” Est answered – bowing his head as he crossed the room.

“Sit,” William invited – gesturing to the chair across from him.

Est took his seat stiffly, hands uncertain in his lap.
The servants glided forward to pour wine and set plates before him – fragrant with roasted meat, saffron rice, and ripe fruits – yet Est hardly noticed.

He could feel William’s gaze.
He could feel the weight of the moment.

And so he stayed still – back straight, hands clasped too tightly together – as though expecting some command.

“You can eat, you know,” William teased lightly – lips twitching as he studied him.

Est’s eyes flicked up, a little startled.

“Your Highness,” he began – cautious – “I was waiting for you to begin.”

That earned him a low, rich chuckle.

“You’re already proving better mannered than most,” the prince mused – lifting his goblet as he regarded Est over its rim. “And far too tense.”

He set the goblet down and gestured with a graceful, unhurried sweep of his hand toward Est’s plate.

“Eat,” he instructed – voice velvet-smooth. “That’s an order.”

The meal was lavish – silver trays of roasted game, delicate rice steamed with saffron, fruit glistening with syrup.

And yet Est could hardly taste any of it.

All the while he could feel William’s gaze on him – hot and unyielding – making every small motion feel strangely intimate.

He was too aware of the prince across from him – of the way William watched him over the rim of his goblet – of the subtle shift of muscle under fine silk every time he moved.

And Est was too aware of himself – hands a touch too tense, gaze flickering between the food and the prince as he searched for something clever to say.

“You did well this morning,” William murmured after a time – voice deep and almost purring as he reached for a sliver of meat with careful fingers.

Est inclined his head. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

“Mm,” the prince hummed – gaze warming. “Very well, in fact. You’re not like most who come through my halls hoping to win my favor.”

Est looked up at that – brow furrowed faintly.

“What is it you want then, my prince?”

That earned him a glimmer of amusement – and something darker – in those blue eyes.

“Direct,” William mused – leaning back, swirling the wine in his goblet. “I like that.”

“You’re quite beautiful,” the prince said then – voice deceptively casual as he reached for his own glass again.

Est froze – heat rushing up his neck.

And William’s dark blue eyes glinted with something wicked as they roved over him – unhurried, deliberate.

“You probably hear that often,” the prince continued – fingers idly swirling his wine – “but I mean it.”

His gaze dragged lower – as though picturing Est without the plain tunic, broad shoulders bared – then back up to his face.

“Your shoulders,” he went on, voice lowered and warm. “Your hands. Even the way you hold yourself – so careful, so disciplined. I wonder what you’d look like if you let that control slip just once.”

Est’s breath caught – hands tightening around his knife and fork before setting them down carefully.

He kept his gaze fixed on the table, though he could feel a dark thrill racing under his skin at those words.

And then he felt the prince’s gaze shift upward to his face again – intense and knowing.

“Have you ever been with a man before, Est?” William asked – voice hushed like a secret meant only for him.

The question hit like a spark.

Est swallowed, forcing himself to meet the prince’s gaze.

“No, Your Highness,” he answered – voice quiet.

And William smiled – slow and sure – as if that was exactly what he had hoped to hear.

And then, holding Est’s gaze, he continued – voice lowered, as though sharing a secret.

“You see, Est Sangaworawong – I did not just summon you here to assess your skill as a bodyguard.”

A breath paused between them – charged with something Est wasn’t sure he dared name.

“You’ve heard what they say about me,” the prince continued – a wicked curve to his lips. “That I’m inattentive at court. That I chase pleasures too often and shirk responsibilities my brothers take seriously.”

Est held his breath – hands tightening imperceptibly against the table’s edge.

“They say,” William went on – leaning in ever so slightly – “that my appetites make me unfit to lead.”

He let the words hang – heavy with unspoken implication – then slowly, deliberately, shifted his gaze up and down Est’s body.

And suddenly Est felt far too warm beneath that gaze.

“You see,” William murmured, setting his glass aside with deliberate grace, leaning a little closer across the table – “I have a proposition for you.”

“I want you for more than my personal guard,” William murmured – voice silken as it wrapped around him.

Est felt his mouth go dry.

More?

And then – like a dark thrill racing through him – he began to understand.

“I want you,” William said at last – the smile on his lips never reaching his eyes – “to spend one night with me. That is all. One night to show me what you’re capable of when you’re not holding a blade.”

And then, as though sensing Est’s sharp inhale – as though knowing exactly where Est’s thoughts had gone – he leaned back once more, deceptively casual.

“You need not answer right away,” the prince assured – swirling his goblet with elegant fingers. “I’ll clear your family’s debts. Instantly. Even before you touch my bed.”

A long pause.

“You only need to say yes.”

Est’s heart pounded and he felt heat flush his face as the offer settled between them – heavy and charged.

He thought of his mother – hands chapped and tired from years of scrimping every coin.

Of his siblings – too young to understand the weight they all carried.

And then his gaze returned to the prince – so close, so self-assured, so undeniably beautiful that Est felt heat knot in his belly.

“Yes,” he heard himself say at last – the word escaping before he had truly decided.

And when William’s smile curved slow and satisfied across his face, Est had the fleeting sensation of stepping over some threshold – one he could never uncross.

“You won’t regret it,” the prince murmured – dark eyes bright with something like triumph as he lifted his goblet in a toast.

And as Est raised his own trembling glass to meet it – breath caught in his throat – he felt the first threads of whatever dangerous game they had begun winding tight between them.

___________

The first chapter is here! Let me know whether y’all enjoy this new setting and plot. 

As usual, I hope y’all enjoy. And don’t forget to let me know your thoughts in the comments!

Cheers!