Caught on the wrong page

"Come, have a seat. I’ll go get the medics," she said, patting the velvet sheets of her bed.

I hesitated but eventually sank into the mattress. It was massive — way too fancy for someone like me, and unbelievably soft. My legs relaxed instantly, but my nerves didn’t. The scent of roses and some other sweet perfume rising from the blankets. I sat stiff like a statue.

She returned with a small box in her hands, the medics inside. Instead of calling anyone else, she sat next to me.

"Sit still and don’t move, so you won’t feel a thing," she said with a warm smile.

She dipped a clean cloth in a porcelain bowl filled with fresh water. Then she gently dabbed it onto my wound. Her touch was feather-light, careful and calm. I barely felt anything — maybe it was the way her hands moved, or maybe I was too focused on keeping my eyes shut tight.

I couldn’t look at her. My face was burning up, and sweat began trickling down the side of my neck. My heart was pounding, like it knew something I didn’t.

She noticed.

"It’s hot today, isn’t it?" she said, letting out a soft laugh as she tried to make me feel more comfortable.

I forced an awkward smile and nodded.

"And… we’re done." She tied a light brown cloth gently around my head. It was soft, freshly folded, and smelled faintly of lavender. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better!" I answered, maybe too quickly.

"Is it okay if I ask you something?" she said, tilting her head slightly.

My heart skipped. What did she want to know? My head started spinning with all the worst possibilities.

"S-sure!" I stammered.

"What’s in that side bag of yours?" she asked curiously, her eyes twinkling with interest.

Oh. The bag.

"Yeah! Of course — here, take a look!" I said, quickly handing her my notebook.

That’s all she wanted? I nearly passed out in relief.

"Wow… you drew these!?" she said, lighting up with genuine surprise.

"Yep. I like to picture whatever’s in front of me and start inking. You like my scribbles? You haven’t even seen my paintings yet!" I said, grinning now, forgetting my nerves. She was only the second person after Butch to appreciate my art — that meant more than I could explain.

She flipped through the pages slowly, her expression brightening with every drawing she saw. She laughed softly at one sketch of Butch making a heroic pose on a pillow and paused at the more detailed sketches.

 I could tell she really cared.

Somewhere between sharing my notebook and the sound of birds singing faintly outside her open balcony, I lost track of time. I hadn’t even noticed how close we had gotten, sitting shoulder to shoulder, Flipping through the pages.

When we flipped to the final drawing and looked up at each other, both of us smiling...
Her face turned red — bright red, like a fresh apple.

I panicked, blushed hard, and bumped back — falling right off the bed and landing flat on the floor.

Right after I hit the floor, I heard footsteps echoing down the hall. I peeked out from the room, still rubbing my back, and saw a fairly tall woman standing just outside — elegant posture, piercing eyes. Judging by her clothes and presence, I assumed she was the princess’s older sister.

She stood there frozen, both hands covering her mouth.

Yeah… she definitely got the wrong idea.

“He tried to kiss you, Sara!?” she shouted, her voice sharp with fury.

“Wha—what? No! We were just looking at his notebook!” the princess said, scrambling to explain.

But the lady didn’t wait. She turned and stormed off down the corridor.

“Sis, no! It’s not like that!” Sara cried, running after her.

I sat there on the floor, still in shock. My mind blanked out. Was that it? Was my life over?

I looked around. Nope — nothing helpful around me. No escape routes. No magic solution. Only one choice left: follow them.

I scrambled to my feet and sprinted out the door.

The castle was a maze — endless hallways, columns, and golden candle stands. I nearly got lost, chasing after their voices, echoing through the corridors. Then I smacked right into Butch coming around the corner.

“Where have you been!?” I yelled, gripping his shoulders.

“Chill out, man! I found that orange dog — he was jumping on the long dining table!, But still i lost him.” Butch said, as if that was the most important thing in the world.

That dog. If I see it again, it’s done for. Butch too — after this mess is over, I’m saving some pain for him back at the village.

“We need to fix a misunderstanding right now or we’re getting exiled — both of us!” I said, grabbing his arm and pulling him along.

“What happened?” he asked, bewildered.

“Nothing crazy! We were just flipping through my notebook and—”

“The one with me posing like a hero!?” Butch interrupted. “Man, that was our secret! How could you!?”

“I forgot it was there! I’m sorry! But hey — it made her laugh,” I said, half grinning.

“Cool. And then you made your move! That’s why we’re in trouble! Great job, Loufas. Real smooth!” Butch snapped.

Now everyone thinks I’m the bad guy.

I didn’t have time to explain further. We kept running until we reached the grand central hall — wide and glowing, with high arched windows and a red carpet that stretched toward the throne.

There he was. The king. Sitting tall on his golden seat, looking down on the scene below. And in front of him, the older sister… already telling her side of the story.

“Yes, I entered the room — and he was leaning in close to her! And what’s worse? He’s a commoner… just a low-life villager,” she said, with venom in her voice.

“No! I swear, Father — he would never do that! I was treating his wounds! I was the reason he was hurt in the first place!” Sara said, her voice cracking.

The king raised an eyebrow. His voice echoed through the hall.

“A boy was in your chambers, Sara…?”

Then he turned to the guards beside him. “Find him. Bring him here.”

Butch and I froze, watching from the balcony above.

I looked at him.

He looked at me.

“We’re doomed, Butch,” I whispered.

“We’re doomed, Loufas,” he whispered back.