The triple-gong sounded across the central court—a formal announcement from the Royal Guru that the sacred weaving competition would commence this rainy season.
Under a gentle early-season drizzle, the atmosphere inside the Inner Palace buzzed more vibrantly than ever. Attendants from each tributary kingdom rushed to set up their weaving quarters. Old and new looms lined the wooden corridors. The dyeing rooms, steaming chambers, and fabric stretching halls began to bustle with life.
Lady Supimpha of Nakorn Lamkhunchi stood with composure at the center of her pavilion, hands elegantly folded. Behind her, a large plank of takhian wood from her homeland was being carved with intricate naga motifs by skilled artisans.
“I shall thread the sacred forest upon my cloth… and show the Prince that even the hardest wood can weave tenderness.”
Pen Duean of Nakorn Lammul sat by an indigo fermenting jar sealed with banana leaves. She poured the dye over cotton threads with practiced care.
“This blend uses fragrant bark,” she whispered to her companion.
“Once dried, the scent lingers… My fabric shall smell like moonlight.”
Lady Kantra of Nakorn Wiangpaksa commanded her aides to bring Chinese silk threads that shimmered like spiderwebs under light.
“I may not excel in intricate patterns… but my fabric shall shine so bright that the Prince cannot look away.”
Lady Wilawan of Phnom Champa delicately arranged her harvested lotus fibers atop a silk-lined tray.
“Fine gold filaments paired with lotus threads will bloom into patterns like sacred lotuses above water,” she murmured, brushing her fingers over the fabric.
“I don’t need to compete. I only need to show him that the most beautiful one… is so both inside and out.”
The palace came alive once again—the clatter of looms, the thump of cotton pounding, and the whirr of spinning wheels echoed throughout, reaching even the royal residence.
Within the royal chamber, King Silawet gazed through a sheer curtain and commented to his Queen,
“It seems this competition will reveal to us which maiden is worthy of being our son’s consort.”
Queen Inthranil smiled softly, waving her sandalwood fan.
“Indeed. For weaving requires more than hand—it requires heart.”
The King chuckled and turned to ask his aide,
“And what of the princess from Phapang? Has she begun?”
The question made the servant flinch slightly before bowing respectfully.
“Your Majesty… there’s yet to be news of Phapang’s preparations.”
The Queen merely nodded, saying nothing. Yet in her heart… a quiet intuition stirred: among these five women, perhaps one cloth would soon be woven—not only from silk, but from hidden truths and threads of fate… beginning to tighten, strand by strand.
Late morning sunlight slanted through carved wooden windows in Phapang’s pavilion. The scent of dried herbs filled the air, rising from a brass incense box beside the divan where Lady Buakesa reclined. Her elegant smile remained that of a highborn woman who would never yield easily.
Soft footsteps approached before Kaew, her maid, peeked in, fanning herself nervously.
“Milady… Nakorn Lamkhunchi has begun carving naga motifs on their loom frame. Pen Duean’s dye scent reaches even our corridor. And Phnom Champa… she’s weaving lotus fibers with gold threads.”
Buakesa snapped her fan shut with a crack.
“Pfft! Mere forest trinkets. Do they think to outshine me with that?”
Kaew flinched, but continued with a bowing smile.
“They say… those who start early perfect their skills first.
And if one were to ‘catch the Prince’s eye’ along with a fine fabric—”
“Enough!”
Buakesa’s eyes flashed.
“Where is Kham In!?”
The outburst silenced the entire chamber. Within moments, Kham In entered calmly, hands respectfully folded.
“I was at the silk pavilion, Your Ladyship.”
Buakesa’s eyes narrowed.
“And how far are you? Or are you still dragging your feet?”
Kham In looked up, voice steady.
“Everything is ready, milady… except for the silk from my hometown. It’s arriving by river traders from Phapang this morning.”
“Then go fetch it yourself,” she snapped.
“Don’t let anyone dare say our house lags behind. And if the silk is poor—don’t bother coming back.”
“Yes, milady.”
He bowed and left with a steadier heart than usual.
The marketplace bustled with vendors’ voices, drowning out the clatter of horseshoes near the dockside. The scent of turmeric-grilled fish mingled with indigo dye and dry banana leaves.
Kham In walked calmly past fabric stalls and dessert carts. His fair skin glowed under the soft midmorning sun. Though his clothing was plain, it was neat and spotless. A servant boy from Phapang, he was a peculiar sight in this dockside market—and that peculiarity… drew many eyes.
“Oh my… as fair as a maiden from the northern hills.”
“Look at that skin—pale as the full moon.”
“Who owns that lad, I wonder?”
Laughter rang from a group of men seated behind a cargo stall. They were dockhands for the silk barges and traders. One of them stood and approached, bumping his elbow into Kham In’s shoulder.
“Oops—sorry there… your arm's so soft, thought it was cotton!”
Kham In turned politely.
“I’m here to pick up a delivery… please excuse me.”
Another man sneered and grabbed his sleeve.
“A voice as gentle as that face—come now, don’t leave so fast. Stay and chat with us a while.”
Kham In stepped back, his face tensing—but before the man could come any closer, a firm voice interrupted, laced with amusement:
“Just because your boat docks here often… doesn’t mean you have the right to harass others.”
A man in a navy soldier’s uniform stood nearby, arms crossed. His sharp brows arched confidently as he stared the group down. Though his lips curved in a smile, his eyes were far from friendly.
The dockhands froze at the sight of a small insignia on the soldier’s chest.
“S-sorry, sir… we were only joking—meant no harm, truly.”
“Joke with dogs and they bark. Joke with men… and they may kick.”
Prince Wihokrat replied coolly, waving his hand.
“Go. Scatter. Before I call the guards to drag you off.”
The men scurried away, the smell of rice liquor trailing behind them.
Kham In bowed deeply.
“Thank you, sir… for helping me.”
Wihokrat chuckled and lifted a hand.
“No need for such formalities—I’m hardly anyone grand.”
He shrugged with a wry smile.
“I’m merely the half-brother of Prince Rachasihwong. Same blood, different mother.”
Kham In paused, then offered a soft, courteous smile.
“Your kindness is truly appreciated, my lord.”
“Then repay me with a walk around the market, won’t you?”
Wihokrat arched a brow playfully.
“You look so focused hunting for silk—I know some good vendors. Might help you impress your lady.”
Kham In laughed softly.
“Gladly, if you don’t mind the company.”
Wihokrat grinned wide, nodding as they began walking side by side. The two strolled past stalls of dyed fabrics, indigo vats, and dried bananas, chatting casually. Their laughter rang softly in one corner of the market—but from a distance, someone heard it loud and clear.
Prince Rachasihwong, just returning from an inspection of the garrison, stood beneath a tree near the silk street. His eyes were fixed on the two figures walking side by side… laughing, unaware of his gaze.
His grip on his robe tightened. Lips pressed into a line. Something within him stirred—hot, unnamed.
Beneath a curved canopy of silk, golden, crimson, and dusky blue threads lined up neatly across bamboo rods. The morning crowd had thinned, the breeze soft.
Kham In reached for a pale gold silk, fingertips brushing its light texture.
“This one’s lighter than the rest…”
“My village uses it for offerings.”
“You know more than I thought,” Wihokrat chuckled.
Kham In looked away with a modest smile.
Unbeknownst to him, just a few steps behind, hidden beneath a tree’s shadow—Prince Rachasihwong stood tall, gaze icy.
He watched the smiles exchanged between his brother and Kham In, unmoving… but inside, it felt like an invisible thread pulling tighter and tighter across his chest.
Then, quiet footsteps approached. A tall figure in royal guard uniform came toward them.
Kham In looked up and stilled.
“Brother…” Wihokrat said. “You’re here…”
“The Royal Guru sent me,” said Prince Rachasihwong, his tone cool and clipped.
“You’re to return to the palace. Immediately.”
Wihokrat raised a brow, then shrugged.
“Very well… I’ll be off, then.”
He turned to Kham In with a warm grin.
“If no one else brings you to the market again, you’re always welcome with me.”
“Thank you, sir.” Kham In bowed slightly.
As Wihokrat disappeared into the crowd, silence returned under the silk canopy.
Kham In lowered his gaze. The Prince remained.
After a moment, Prince Rachasihwong spoke.
“I’ll carry your silk.”
His voice was gentler now as he turned to Kham In.
“N-no need, sir,” Kham In stammered, shaking his head.
“It wouldn’t be proper for Your Highness to carry something for me.”
The Prince smiled faintly, lifting the tray of silk.
“I’ve told you—when it’s just us, you may call me ‘Ai’.”
Kham In froze. His eyes widened before quickly averting.
“I-I couldn’t…”
“When will you, then?”
The voice was soft—but it held something that made Kham In’s heart pound.
“If you don’t… I’ll walk back to the palace in silence, carrying this whole tray.”
The Prince’s words trailed off into a teasing laugh.
“…”
“A… Ai.”
It was a whisper—but clear. Kham In still wouldn’t meet his eyes. But under the canopy of silk, the blush blooming on his cheeks could not be hidden.
Prince Rachasihwong’s lips curled into a smile as he held the tray close to his chest.
“Good… Just like that.”
...
At the southern market of Wiangphasorn Nakhon, the late morning crowd began to swell. Voices of merchants called out from riverboats, clanging gongs and coconut shells marked rhythms for attention, while the scent of roasted salt drifted on the breeze.
Prince Rachasihwong and Kham In walked side by side beneath a trellised canopy. The Prince still carried the tray of silk in his hands.
Kham In kept half a pace behind, quiet and composed. As they passed a stall of handcrafted jewelry from the lowland kingdoms, their steps slowed.
A lacquered wooden box, mother-of-pearl inlaid, sat beside baskets of unpolished jade—white, cloudy green, and one piece, polished smooth like morning dew.
A single jade bracelet rested atop soft green-dyed silk. It glimmered like emerald after rain.
Kham In paused. His eyes softened. He reached out gently, brushing his fingers against the stone, then slowly pulled away
Prince Rachasihwong pretended to move on, but his eyes remained fixed on the young man’s hands.
“It’s beautiful… but I don’t have the coin,” Kham In whispered softly, mostly to himself, before turning to speak with a merchant about the silk shipment from Phapang.
The Prince stood silently. Then, without a word, he reached into his pouch, pulled out a silver coin, and set it quietly on the tray. He picked up the jade bracelet… and tucked it into his sash.
“It’s mine now,” he whispered to himself, his gaze still following the one who had caught his heart unawares.
When Kham In returned, he bowed politely.
“Thank you, Your Highness, for kindly carrying the silk. I’ll take it back to the pavilion now.”
The Prince didn’t respond right away. Instead, he reached to his waist and drew out the jade bracelet, holding it out.
“You liked this one, didn’t you?”
Kham In blinked, startled.
“I-I was only looking… It’s too much—”
“Don’t refuse,” the Prince said, voice soft but firm.
“Think of it as… a reward for your banana cake.”
His lips curved.
“The cake was sweet… but the scent that lingered on your hand was sweeter.”
Kham In flushed crimson. He hesitated before slowly reaching out to accept it.
“If you don’t take it,” the Prince teased, “I’ll wear it myself. And if anyone asks, I’ll say it was a gift… from you.”
Kham In lowered his gaze, his fingers gently brushing the stone.
“Thank you… Ai.”
Prince Rachasihwong stood still, savoring the moment. Then, quietly:
“Call me that every day, will you?”
The breeze by the river stirred once more, as if weaving each word between them into a fine invisible thread—one not yet laid upon fabric, but already stitched into both their hearts.
By late afternoon, golden light draped over Wiangphasorn Palace. The faint sound of traditional instruments echoed from the royal weaving hall.
Kham In stepped quietly into Buakesa’s residence. In his arms, the silk bundle from Phapang. On his wrist… the pale jade bracelet nestled snugly. But unlike before, his face wasn’t expressionless—his cheeks bore the lightest tint, and his eyes glistened, almost as if reflecting the sunset.
As he stepped up the wooden stairs, his heart skipped unevenly. The doors opened with a faint swish of soft red silk.
Lady Buakesa stood at the center of the room, one hand holding a golden-embroidered fan, the other lifting a piece of silk to the light.
“Kham In, you were gone too long.”
Her tone wasn’t angry—but curious.
“Was the merchant so absorbed in his wares he forgot we have only days before the competition?”
Kham In bowed quickly.
“Forgive me, milady. I only… encountered a small matter. It has been resolved.”
He stepped forward quietly, cradling the silk from Phapang. Yet what caught more attention… was the jade bracelet glinting on his left wrist.
Buakesa’s eyes flicked to it, sharp.
“What’s that… jewelry?”
Her voice was neutral, but the disdain laced her tongue.
Kham In startled. His hand instinctively dropped to his side to hide the bracelet.
Buakesa didn’t let silence win. She stepped forward slowly, deliberately.
“Something that fine… you couldn’t afford on your own.”
From the side, Kaew, her maid, glanced up and added softly:
“Or perhaps… someone gave it to him?”
Buakesa snorted.
“If someone truly gifted it to you… it was likely for your body alone.”
Her voice lowered, sharp as a blade.
“A deviant like you—no one takes you seriously. They probably just want to try.”
Kham In said nothing. His gaze fell, quiet but firm. His fingers clutched the silk tighter.
Buakesa turned away, voice laced with meaning.
“Take the silk and prepare the dye.”
She glanced at him, briefly.
“I want it beautiful. Don’t disappoint me.”
“Yes, milady.”
He turned and left without another word.
Kham In walked out of the chamber with steady steps. On the outside, he looked unchanged—but inside, something wavered. A quiet breeze rustled the garden’s trees, brushing past the palace walkway.
He touched the jade bracelet softly. Its coolness contrasted the warmth inside his chest.
Prince Rachasihwong—the one who had entered his life silently, who had said, “Call me Ai.”
He didn’t pry. He didn’t demand. And yet… he stirred Kham In’s heart every time their eyes met.
Under the shade of a tall tree, Kham In stood still. His breath mingled with the rustle of leaves.
Sometimes, the deepest truths don’t need to be spoken aloud.
He looked down, lips curving slightly in an unknowing smile—and walked on, unaware… that someone was still thinking of him.
...
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