"Marx," Princess Amaya, who was still drowsy, blurted out when Leon stood closely by her bedside.
"Princess?" Layla looked worriedly at Princess Amaya and then at Leon. She had heard Marx’s na and was aware of who he was, but what did that have to do with the new guard?
Princess Amaya wearily rubbed her eyes as if attempting to dispel the grogginess clouding her vision. As her gaze sharpened, she was stunned to find that it was not Marx standing beside her but Leon.
"I am sorry. I thought you were soone." Princess Amaya apologized to Leon.
Leon humd before striding out of the room to get a glass of water.
"Princess, are you alright?" Layla repeated her question as she cast a worried glance at Amaya.
"I am alright, Layla. I just had a nightmare." Amaya uttered softly. She sounded tired and disappointed.
Layla was the female guard she had explicitly requested when Julienne could not accompany her due to her need to care for her dying grandmother.
Leon, the newly appointed guard, returned with a glass of water, carefully presenting it to Princess Amaya, who was now half-lying, half-sitting on the bed. As she reached out for the glass, their hands made montary contact. Amaya experienced a peculiar sensation, causing her almost to jolt back, which nearly caused the glass to tip over. However, just in ti, Leon’s firm and warm hand enclosed the glass and her hand, preventing the water from spilling.
"Careful, Princess."
Amaya felt her cheeks grow warm as blood rushed to her face, a sure sign that she was blushing. She couldn’t explain why she was feeling this way. As she took a sip, she consciously avoided eye contact with Layla or Leon by looking down at her glass.
Layla hesitated montarily before mustering up the courage to ask, "What did you dream about, Princess? Your screams were so piercing that we were worried soone had broken in and was attacking you."
"It’s the recurring nightmare I had from two years ago," Amaya answered after a period of silence. She hesitated before deciding to share it, knowing that opening up would help alleviate the heavy burden she had been carrying. Marx’s disappearance weighed heavily on her conscience, and she couldn’t shake the guilt she felt. She wouldn’t feel as guilty if it had been just any guard who had vanished. But it was Marx, the man she deeply loved and he wasn’t a guard in the first place but the heir of Skylar Corporation.
Layla decided to keep the princess company. She occupied the couch while Leon left the room and positioned himself outside the door. His duty was to stand guard through the night before switching with another guard in the morning.
...
On the night of the engagent party, Princess Amaya donned another traditional Lireyan dress normally worn for such occasions. She wore a black gown with thin straps and a semi-circular hemline, where the back part kissed the floor while the front showed the tip of her glass sandals. The hemline at the back was embroidered with small white gardenia flowers, creating an illusion that she was walking on a carpet of white flowers.
She wore an upper garnt made from transparent white embroidered gauze. It was barely there and ant to highlight the exquisite black fabric of the dress underneath. She matched the dress with a three-layered choker pearl necklace, a golden pendant of gardenia encrusted with tiny pearls, and a pair of teardrop pearl earrings. Her hair was elegantly braided around the crown of her head, secured by a string of pearls. The jewelry was her own design.
As often as possible, Amaya would enthusiastically display the vibrant and stunning dresses from Lireya, eliciting a wave of positive responses from the online community.
When Princess Amaya stepped out of her room, wearing light makeup, Vasquez whistled to show his appreciation, but he stopped when he felt a chill running down his spine. Looking around, he only saw Leon standing at the door, waiting for Princess Amaya to step out.
"Princess, your beauty radiates so brightly that I can only imagine you outshining the bride-to-be tonight." Vasquez flattered Princess Amaya, who simply smiled upon hearing his bashful remarks. She nodded before walking elegantly toward the door.
The engagent party was held at the Crystal Hotel, the most luxurious hotel in the Capital of Usturia. It has a beautiful view of the sea and is surrounded by lustrous trees at the back.
Princess Amaya had made quite the entrance, arriving an hour ahead of schedule. She was accompanied by a convoy of four sleek black cars, two leading the way and two following closely behind. As she alighted from her car, the attentive Leon rushed to open the door for her. However, her arrival did not go unnoticed by Prince Raquim, who was already waiting at the grand entrance of the hotel. Leon pretended not to see the crown prince of Albanya and wanted to escort Amaya to the banquet hall on the second floor.
"What do you think you’re doing?" Prince Raquim glared at Leon, who was still standing beside Princess Amaya and had no intention of moving.
"I am her guard, Your Highness," Leon said curtly.
"I am Princess Amaya’s escort tonight. Know your place." Raquim tried to control the anger in his voice because he was in the presence of Amaya. He did not want her to see his ruthless side.
Vasquez, who was on the other side of Princess Amaya, coughed lightly. Leon reluctantly stepped back.
Prince Raquim gallantly offered his arm to the Princess, who graciously accepted the gesture.
The grand ballroom of the Crystal Hotel could accommodate up to a thousand people. Royalties and other VIPs from different countries were allowed to bring only two of their guards. Princess Amaya brought Vasquez as her guard, and Vasquez chose Leon as the second guard to accompany them.
Princess Amaya and the three n surrounding her were a sight to behold for the reporters. Vasquez and the Prince of Albanya were both handso n, but the most remarkable of the three was the guard who followed behind Princess Amaya. Despite being just a guard, he carried himself with the sa dignity as the Prince of Albanya.
"The man walking behind Princess Amaya, is he a Prince? From which country?" a reporter wearing a simple maroon dress whispered to her companion.
"He looks familiar. The way he walks and carries himself is similar to that man."
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