The Princess

11.

ARANYANI

"Princess, our men have been mixed with the staff of the event. If an emergency arises, we will be able to get you out of there easily." William states.

"That is fine. I want your help." I declare.

William cocks his head to the side and raises his eyebrow in question.

"Tell me what to wear. I would have asked Caius, but as you know, he is not forthcoming with my decision to accompany Emrys and is sulking about it like a child." I huff.

"He cares about your wellbeing, Princess." He says, gently.

"I know he does! But, you are going to be there with me and the other men. And, Emrys is harmless."

"He knows that, Princess. I think he is just afraid that somebody will take his place in your life." He shrugged.

"You know that is not possible. Nobody could ever replace him in my life. Not now, not ever." I state and continue, "I will talk to him about this on the plane home tomorrow. Now, please decide what dress should I wear."

"You know I have no experience in this." He lies.

"Oh, even the guards at the palace can smell the bullshit in your words. You have played dress up with me since I was two. You have impeccable taste." I say, smugly.

William's cheeks turn a cute shade of pink. I coo at him and pinch his cheeks. He pushes my hands away, gently, and rushes to choose a dress.

A few minutes later, he is back with a floor-length, navy blue dress with thick straps. He turns it around and I see it has a deep back

"I knew you had amazing taste. Hey, if it does not work out as a bodyguard, you can be my stylist." I jokingly tell him.

"Well, I can be both?" He said, putting one hand on his waist.

Both of us laugh and I take the dress out of his hands. I stand on my toes and kiss him on his cheek.

"Take out matching accessories and shoes?" I ask him pleadingly.

He groans and enters my closet again, all the while grumbling underneath his breath about not getting paid enough.

"You should take that up with my father," I yell.

"I will." He shot back.

I just giggle at his misery, knowing he was just acting. The only person who took interest in my clothing other than my mother was William.

He took great pleasure in dressing me up for social gatherings. Both, formal and informal.

"I am going to have a shower," I call out to him, after putting the dress on the bed, closing the bathroom door behind me.

Twenty minutes later, I come out in my bathrobe and a towel wrapped in my hair. On my bed was the dress William had chosen along with a diamond choker and a silver clutch. He had also chosen a pair of silver strappy high heels to go with my outfit.

A note left near the outfit signed by William said that he would meet me in an hour.

I removed the towel and took out my Dyson hair styling kit. I blow-dry my hair and put them in loose curls. I make a low bun with my hair and leave some strands to frame my face. I moisturize my skin and take my make-up kit out. I apply eyeliner, mascara, and red lipstick. All the glam makes my light brown skin glow.

When I am done, I remove my bathrobe and put on my dress. Well, my mother's overenthusiastic approach to my wardrobe came in handy.

I clasp the choker around my neck and spritz some perfume on my neck and my wrists.