The Muddy Mistake
Finally, it was done.
Only after Arkin had given the elephant a thorough mud bath until the muscles in his arms ached did the creature let out a satisfied snort of breath.
Arkin splashed the water over the elephant’s body, rinsing it thoroughly before tossing the fruit from the sack one by one into its enormous mouth.
“You’re eating well.”
He himself bit into an apple. The task was unfamiliar and grueling, something he had never done before, yet somehow it wasn’t unpleasant once he started. There was a certain lightness to his heart that had nothing to do with living as a prince.
After patting the elephant’s broad back, Arkin left the tent. Workers carrying armfuls of hay bustled about the courtyard, and several open tents still held other trainees.
Arkin hesitated, wondering whether to approach Nefetia’s tent. He could slip past under the excuse that he was waiting for Elio.
It would be terribly awkward, but he couldn’t avoid it entirely. If she treated him with her usual indifference, he could simply turn his back and walk away.
Before Arkin could decide, Nefetia emerged from her tent. Shielding her eyes against the sun with her hand, she stood there a moment, trying to gauge the height of the sun. She had not yet noticed Arkin’s arrival when he stepped out from the shadows and began to cross the courtyard.
Arkin’s steps halted abruptly as Zafiri appeared. The prince was striding toward Nefetia with a mischievous grin, the water bucket in his hands brimming with playful intent.
Zafiri hoisted the sloshing bucket high and, without a moment’s hesitation, dumped the entire contents over Nefetia’s head.
“Ah—Zafiri!”
Zafiri clutched his stomach and howled with laughter. Nefetia, drenched from head to toe, let out a furious shriek.
“Have you lost your mind?! You do this first thing in the morning?!”
Her once-luxuriant hair, now tangled and plastered with mud, drooped limply. The muddy rivulets racing down her shoulders and arms left ugly stains on her pristine white tunic.
“Stop it!”
Instantly she retaliated. Grabbing the mud from her own body, she marched forward and slapped it directly into Zafiri’s face.
“Ah, my eyes!”
The thick mud slid down Zafiri’s face. Still laughing, he reached into the puddle on the ground and scooped up another handful.
He smeared more mud on her face and neck, then the two of them were locked in a frantic, sloshing grapple, their hands grabbing at arms and clothes.
“Attack!”
From somewhere, Kaichen burst forward. Petra, mud still dripping from her hands, declared her own participation. Stella, too, set aside her turtle shell and quietly slipped in. For a moment the courtyard became a whirlwind of flying mud and wild laughter.
Everyone was having fun, shouting and giggling. But there was only one person who did not laugh at all.
Arkin alone remained quiet, his chest burning for reasons the mud fight could never explain.
Too much fun, Zafiri suddenly grabbed Nefetia’s slender waist and lifted her high, pressing her face toward the other trainees so they could smear more mud on her.
Nefetia burst into laughter and snatched at Zafiri’s curly brown hair. “Down! Down!” she demanded, kicking wildly. Zafiri swung her up with a triumphant “Wahahaha!” and carried her around in a dizzying dance.
Petra and Kaichen finally rescued her. Even Petra, who had been grumbling about the chaos, caught the two princes by the arms without a hint of hesitation, mud and all, and pulled them back.
Everyone was shouting and fussing as if nothing had happened.
Arkin only realized later that the wooden pole he had been bending so dramatically in a fit of frustration had almost snapped. He let the pole drop and turned away, the motion sharp and final.
Why was he so angry over such a trivial thing? This was ridiculous. His feelings were childish, immature—nothing more than a boyish tantrum. Yet his insides churned with heat he could not control.
He could not keep pace with the storm of emotion that had risen in him. Once the leash slipped, his heart raced on its own—wanting to get closer, then pushing away, then craving closeness again, only to shove himself farther still. Arkin had lost all control over his own heart. He felt like an idiot.
Arkin took a deep breath. The merciless midday sun beat down on his face.
Laughter drifted across the wall from somewhere, still ringing, twisting his features into a scowl.
Was Nefetia still rolling in the mud, playing with the other trainees? Was she letting them touch her, kiss her, run their hands over her skin? For her, it meant nothing. Arkin had been worrying all along whether she had seen herself naked in the bath, and now he felt like the biggest fool alive.
The dream he had woven beneath the olive tree had become embarrassingly silly. He was no longer a boy. He was a proper adult. He should have outgrown such ridiculous fluttering in his chest long ago.
Well, perhaps to Nefetia it really was nothing. In Kepet they probably bathed together without any barriers. Maybe it made no difference whether a man’s body was exposed or not. Who knew?
The courtyard outside the building remained noisy. Arkin paced like an angry bull, unable to stop himself from looking toward the noise he so desperately wanted to escape.
He had heard that in Kepet the king kept sixteen concubines to please him. In a country like that, a naked man meant nothing.
Arkin forced himself to calm down. A presence behind him made him turn.
Thwack!
A cold, sticky clump of mud struck him square in the face. The muddy mess slid from his forehead down his cheeks, then over his nose and finally his lips.
“Gotcha!”
Arkin stood stunned. Nefetia laughed softly and naturally took his arm, leaning her body against his.
“Arkin. Let’s play together, okay?”
She rose on tiptoes and reached up to touch his head. With a laugh she smeared more mud across his frozen cheeks and neck.
“Everyone else is making a mess. Come inside and play with us, okay?”
Her golden eyes sparkled with mischief. She touched his face freely, stroked his neck, grabbed his shoulders, and kept laughing.
Thinking back, the princess of Kepet had touched other people’s bodies without any hesitation. Comfortable? Even the simple act of reaching out felt like it required a mountain of courage to Arkin, yet to her it was ordinary.
That meant the entire scene today—his own wavering emotions, the private turmoil he had poured out alone—was all his fault.
Would she have suggested sharing a bed if she had learned he had become aroused in the bath?
Would she have said something like “You’re special to me”? Would they have kissed and collapsed into each other’s arms right then and there? He had worried about that alone, all night.
Nefetia had simply felt nothing. Perhaps if she had lived in the royal palace of Kepet she might have acted differently, but he had drawn an invisible line in the air, claiming it was impossible for them to be together and lose the throne… and he had been the foolish one who forgot the distance between them.
“Arkin. Aren’t you coming in? You’ll be tired after getting up so early.”
A bright, innocent laugh scraped against his insides. His stomach twisted with anger.
Arkin glared at her coldly and asked,
“…Are you having fun?”
Arkin’s eyes hardened into something cold and sharp. Nefetia’s smile slowly faded.
Outside the building the noise continued, but between the two of them a cold silence settled.
“You want me to take another bath? After that filthy one earlier?”
Arkin roughly wiped the mud that had dripped down his neck and shot the words at her.
“No, I just….”
Nefetia’s voice shrank. The confidence she had worn moments ago vanished. Her face lost all color.
“I came out looking for Arkin because he wasn’t there….”
“So you kept asking about the same thing? Why? You’re going to drag me to the bath again? Do you want to see my body more? To test how it feels?”
Arkin wanted to laugh at himself in disgust. But the moment he opened his mouth, the words tumbled out.
“Arkin, it’s not like that….”
Nefetia’s face flushed, then paled again. Her golden eyes widened.
“I’m telling you again—I don’t feel anything from you. It’s all your imagination.”
The color drained completely from Nefetia’s face. Confusion, panic, and hurt flashed across her features in quick succession.
Of course. She was probably thinking he must look insane. She had pulled him into the mud and locked him in her arms, laughing, and now she was acting this coldly. Anyone would find it sudden and absurd.
From afar, Zafiri called her name. But Nefetia did not move. She simply stared at Arkin.
An awkward silence stretched between them. The sunlight burned hot. The mud on their skin slowly dried.
“…I’m sorry.”
Nefetia whispered, her voice small.
She turned and walked away, never looking back.
Regret came too late. He had spoken too harshly. He had vented his frustration on the wrong person. But the words were already out and could never be taken back. Why did he always behave in ways that did not suit him around Nefetia…?
He stood there until the dried mud on his neck pulled at his skin. The more unpleasant feeling was the one inside his mouth.