The Princess's Manservant

CHAPTER EIGHT - A Public Leash

The door swung open.

Four maids stepped out and stood opposite Alex. He heard movement—something approaching. It must be the princess, he thought. He straightened his back and fixed his gaze forward.

The princess noticed.

Her thoughts flickered briefly to her earlier correction, then her eyes dropped to his waist. The sash was secured on his left. She scoffed, amused. Raising her hand, she clipped his bond to the cord in her grasp.

"Let us be going," she said, moving ahead as the maids led the way.

Alex followed, his steps slower than usual, disbelief weighing heavily on him. Walking like this—on a leash—felt unreal. The princess sensed his hesitation and gave the cord a slight tug, sharp enough to remind him.

He quickened his pace, closing the distance.

When they reached the carriage, he moved ahead and opened the door. He extended his hand to help her in.

She ignored it.

Alex stood still, staring at his empty hand. He wondered if he appeared unclean—or if the gesture itself was improper in her customs.

"Do you need an invitation," the princess said coolly, one brow raised, "or would you rather walk?"

He lifted his gaze, understanding immediately. He lowered his head.

"My apologies, milady."

He stepped into the carriage.

The door shut, and they began to move.

Alex's eyes wandered restlessly from one window to the other. He shifted in his seat, the soft friction of fabric filling the silence.

"Do you wish to use the privy?" the princess asked, irritation flickering across her face. "Go now, before we arrive."

"No, milady." He lowered his head again. "I was merely looking for Adaora. Is she not coming with us?"

She hummed. "She will not be attending. This is not a public gathering."

She watched his reaction—caught the brief hint of disappointment—and felt a flicker of irritation rise within her.

Am I that uncomfortable to be around?

She dismissed the thought at once. It mattered not. He was only a servant—albeit one with a significant role.

Her fingers tightened unconsciously around the cord.

The ride passed in uneasy silence. Alex was unsure how—or if—he was even allowed to speak. By the time the carriage stopped, the question had consumed the entire journey.

"We are here," the princess said.

Alex stepped down quickly and reached out again to assist her.

Ignored.

Another servant offered his hand. She accepted it without hesitation.

Something hardened in Alex's chest. His hand curled into a fist at his side. The servant caught the subtle glare and stiffened immediately.

As they entered the venue, cheers and chatter spilled into the open air. The moment Alex stepped inside, a wave of familiarity washed over him.

This was the same hall.

The same place where he had been turned into an aid.

He followed closely behind the princess as another servant guided her forward. "Please wait here while I announce you," the man said.

She nodded.

The servant descended the steps and addressed the hall.

"Greetings one and all. Please allow me to introduce Princess Amara Serena Obodoike."

He stepped aside.

She emerged beneath the bright lights, presenting herself first to the crown before descending the stairs. The crowd gathered quickly—compliments, praise, reverence spilling from every direction.

Alex struggled to understand it.

In his home, introductions were unnecessary. Whether as Alex or Prince Dike, rooms filled with cheers naturally. Here, everything felt rehearsed—forced. Smiles strained. Voices overly polished. Some nobles even hid behind fans.

Compliments flowed not only toward her, but toward her brother as well.

Alex received nothing—save a knock to the back of his head, a muttered insult, a shove disguised as jest.

His gaze returned to the princess.

She was smiling.

Moments ago she had been annoyed—now she looked radiant, warm, composed. He watched closely, searching for cracks: a flinch, a pause, anything real.

Then—

Clatter.

A sound broke through the hall.

"You useless thing."

Smack.

A sharp slap echoed.

Alex turned instinctively. A woman—an aid—had fallen to the floor, bonded to her lead. Before the man could strike again, Alex moved.

He caught the man's wrist mid-swing.

Shock flashed across the noble's face as he yanked his hand back, pain stinging where Alex had grabbed him.

"How dare you?" he shouted. "You insolent fool! Who is your lead?"

"I am."

The princess spoke before Alex could.

The man's voice faltered. "You... you are his lead?"

"Indeed." She turned her attention to the trembling aid on the floor, one hand pressed to her reddened cheek. "What is the meaning of this, Sir Osita?"

His glare sharpened. "I was disciplining my aid. Her clumsiness soiled my clothes."

"Is that so?" Her gaze hardened. Then she sighed. "If that were the case, should this not have been done in private—rather than making a spectacle of yourself?"

Osita flinched, eyes darting around the hall at the watching nobles.

"I understand. Thank you for correcting me, Your Highness." He bowed, then raised his head. "But if I may."

"Continue."

"Did you send your aid to interfere?" His eyes dropped pointedly to Alex's unattended cord. "He acted without your permission. That is a disregard for the rules, is it not?"

She scoffed. "My aid acted to help a woman in need." She gestured as another servant helped the fallen aid to her feet. "This event has clearly been ruined."

She smiled—satisfied.

"Alex."

"Yes, milady."

"Let us leave."

"But—"

"We are leaving, Alex."

Her tone allowed no argument.

He hesitated, his gaze lingering on the shaken woman. The princess tugged the cord firmly, pulling him after her.

The bond tightened.

Words failed him.

Reluctantly, he followed her back to the carriage.