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Chapter 3 - The royal tournament

The grand hall buzzed with activity, banners swaying, nobles whispering, and guards moving in precise formation. Today's event was more than a competition—it was a display of power, skill, and prestige. The Prince, standing near the edge of the field, was all polished composure on the outside, but inside, his thoughts were entirely on Paytai.

Paytai moved through the crowd, carrying official papers for the tournament. Even in the midst of nobles and the public, he carried an elegance that made heads turn, though his eyes were always discreetly scanning for the Prince. Their glances met across the arena, and in that fleeting connection, months of suppressed tension crackled like fire.

The tournament began. Swords clashed, shields rang, and the air was thick with anticipation. The Prince's gaze never left Paytai. Each subtle nod, each fleeting look, spoke volumes—unspoken messages of longing, desire, and restraint.

During a break in the competition, Paytai approached the Prince under the pretense of reporting results. As he handed over a scroll, their fingers brushed. The spark was instantaneous—electric and undeniable. Both froze for a heartbeat, aware that a simple touch could ignite the fire they had been keeping at bay.

"You're reckless," the Prince murmured, a low smile tugging at his lips. "Do you know how distracting you are?"

Paytai's chest rose and fell rapidly, his pulse betraying him. "Your Highness… I'm merely performing my duties," he whispered, though his eyes lingered on the Prince with an intensity he could not hide.

The Prince stepped closer, narrowing the space between them. "Duties?" he echoed, voice rougher now, tinged with humor and something darker. "Or desires you cannot speak?"

Paytai's breath caught. "I… we must be careful," he stammered, tension coiling in his chest.

"And yet here we are," the Prince countered, brushing a loose strand of hair from Paytai's face, lingering near his temple. The touch was brief but devastating, leaving both of them trembling from proximity and unspoken need.

The rest of the tournament passed in a blur of clashes and cheers, but their attention never wavered from each other. Every glance, every subtle gesture carried hidden meaning, building a private world that existed only between them.

Later, as the sun dipped low, the Prince found Paytai alone in a quiet corridor. The air was thick with the scents of sweat, wax, and adrenaline.

"You're always in my mind," the Prince admitted, voice low, almost dangerous. "Even in public, even when you should be elsewhere."

Paytai's fingers twitched as if drawn by some unseen force. "And yet, we are seen by many. This… closeness… it cannot be," he whispered.

The Prince caught him by the wrist, pressing him lightly against the wall, foreheads nearly touching. "Then we steal moments. We hide. We keep this flame alive, no matter the world," he said, voice rough with need and resolve.

Paytai's lips parted, heart hammering. "I… I will try," he whispered, though he knew the fire between them could never be contained.

In the shadows of the corridor, behind the eyes of the public, a secret tension simmered. It was dangerous, intoxicating, and entirely theirs—a forbidden spark in the heart of the palace that neither duty, nor decorum, nor the watchful eyes of the kingdom could ever extinguish.

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