The Princess's Manservant

CHAPTER ELEVEN - Threads and Teeth

Alex and Adaora headed to the waiting room where the craftsman stood, numerous fabric rolls spread across the table, a measuring tape draped around his neck, pins stuck into a foam ball resting in his palm, while his assistants moved about setting up their tools.

"Good day, sir," Adaora greeted with a low bow.

The craftsman turned and smiled, raising his arms as he approached her. "Adaora, how are you?"

"I'm doing well."

He placed his hands briefly on her shoulders. "Indeed, you look well." His eyes searched behind her. "Where is Her Highness?" he inquired.

"She had other matters to attend to." Adaora then turned to Alex. "I've brought him here as instructed."

"Is he the aid?"

She nodded.

The craftsman studied him, placing one hand at Alex's waist and the other at his chin as he slowly circled him. "He is rather different from what I've worked with," he commented. Soon, he flicked his finger toward the podium before the large mirror, signaling Alex to follow.

Alex stepped onto the stall podium. The craftsman stood beside him, pulling out his tape and measuring his body. As he called out numbers, his assistants wrote everything down carefully.

Once finished, he instructed them to bring the fabric cutouts—several blends of akwete, hemp, and sisal. He examined each thoughtfully, discussing styles with his attendants as they worked.

Amara arrived mid-fitting, standing beside Adaora. "How are things going?"

Adaora flinched at the familiar voice, then smiled. "I think Mr. Uche seems to like him a bit." She chuckled.

"That's good to hear."

Adaora leaned closer to Amara's ear. "Did you read the letter?" she whispered.

Amara turned slightly away from the group. "His handwriting is quite harsh on the eyes," she murmured, "but I could tell his words were gentle."

"Oh?" Adaora teased with a sly grin. "Please tell me more."

Amara lowered her gaze. "He says he wants us to continue talking... to get to know each other."

"Oh..." Adaora smiled wider. "It seems my idea was a success. Very soon we'll be hearing wedding bells."

Amara quickly covered her mouth. "Quiet," she commanded. "The marriage can only happen if we both agree to it—and that is what I'm aiming for."

Adaora mumbled through Amara's hand until she let go. "But why? I heard the prince is kind and handsome. He could be the man for you."

"A man chosen by my ancestors, you mean?" Amara corrected. She turned her gaze toward Alex being measured. "I have no feelings for that man. They may determine everything else about me, but not my heart. That is not how I wish to be seen as a competent queen."

"Understood, milady."

Amara approached. "Mr. Uche, how are things proceeding?"

He turned eagerly. "Well, let's just say he is quite a specimen."

Specimen?

Alex glanced at them, brow lifting slightly. What on earth does he mean by that? He wondered.

"He has a body quite different from the others—more bulk," Mr. Uche continued. "But I like a good challenge. Take a look at the patterns and styles I've chosen."

She read my letter.

Alex had heard everything. Years of hunting in the forest had sharpened his senses—soft whispers carried easily to him.

Ending the marriage contract didn't sound so terrible. He had never wanted it either. Still, he found himself wondering whether she would truly respond. From what he heard, it seemed she already had.

"Alex."

"Hm? Yes, milady."

"Come. We are finished here." She turned to leave.

Alex removed the pins and materials from his clothing and followed her through the halls.

"Allow me to apologize for how hasty things have been," she said. "The bonding ceremony was pushed forward, and now we are fast approaching the games."

That again.

"You will be educated further during etiquette lessons in the coming days."

They entered the garden, the princess still speaking when—

Bark.

Bark.

Alex barely had time to react before something came charging toward him. He turned and ran, two barking Dobermans chasing close behind.

Amara froze—then burst into laughter. Does he not know that once he runs, they won't stop until they catch him? She wondered, clutching her stomach as she laughed.

When the chase ended, the dogs returned proudly with a piece of his clothing in their mouths. Alex followed behind them cautiously, gasping for breath, exhaustion written across his face.

To make matters worse, the princess was laughing while petting and praising the dogs.

Alex scowled subtly and sighed.

"I apologize for their behavior," she said, her gaze lingering on the torn fabric of his trousers. A soft laugh escaped her as she covered her mouth. "Why don't you take the rest of the day to heal yourself?"

He bowed.

Then he left.