Chapter 8
The next day, I spotted Curtis in our morning languages class.
The tutor stood at the front, droning about common grammatical errors as if he were paid extra to sound as lifeless as possible.
Normally, Curtis and I claimed the same table, shoulders brushing while we whispered jokes under our breath.
But today, he walked in last, scanned the room, and—without hesitation—chose a seat on the far side, his chair scraping just enough to make my chest tighten.
I tried to catch his eye, sending him a small smile, a tilt of my head, anything. But Curtis kept his gaze fixed on the instructor as though the man’s monotone was suddenly riveting.
It wasn’t just languages. In archery, literature, arithmetic—it was the same. Whenever I glanced his way, his attention was somewhere else. No smiles. No nods. No shared, conspiratorial glances. Comfort’s warning echoed in my mind: He won’t ever talk to you again.
I told myself I could leave the conversation for another day.
If he wanted distance, maybe I should let him have it.
But the longer it went on, the more my skin prickled with frustration and…
something else. It had been less than twenty-four hours since I’d turned away from him, and already the absence of his easy warmth made the world feel off-balance.
By the time our classmates were drifting toward the dining hall for lunch, I’d decided I couldn’t take another hour of this. I caught him in the corridor, stepping into his path before he could slip away.
“Curtis, may I talk to you?” I asked, blocking his way with more determination than grace.
He gave a careless shrug, his eyes flicking over my shoulder instead of meeting mine. The dismissal stung more sharply than I’d expected. Was this how he had felt the day before? Had he spent the whole night coming up with reasons to hate me?
I waited until the hall emptied, the distant hum of conversation fading. My heart pounded in my ears as I opened my mouth—only for a ridiculous squeak to escape instead of words.
I forced myself to try again. “Curtis, I…I like you.”
His scowl faltered, replaced by startled disbelief. “What?”
“I like you,” I repeated, eyes fixed firmly on his polished shoes. “A lot. I just wanted you to know.”
“Oh.” The single syllable seemed to catch him off guard. After a beat, he added, “I like you too. But I guess you already knew that because of…you know…”
I rocked back on my heels, still studying his shoes. “So…so sorry about, you know, yesterday. I just got nervous, and—”
“It’s okay,” he cut in quickly.
I risked a glance upward. His face was tinged with color, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as if he could scrub away his own embarrassment. His eyes flickered to mine, then darted away just as fast. “I was trying to be…well…never mind.”
The words hung there, unspoken and heavy. He stared over my head; I stared at a small spider making a slow climb up the stone wall beside his boots. The air between us felt thick—like if either of us moved closer, something irreversible might happen.
Finally, I blurted, “So…I’m going to go, uh, eat.”
“Yeah. Yeah, okay. That is a good eat—plan. A good plan to…uh, eat,” he stumbled, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he almost smiled. “I guess I’ll see you later.”
“Bye.” I slipped past him, my pulse still thudding. The entire exchange had been both mortifying and…something else I wasn’t ready to name.
I was grateful we didn’t share any more classes that afternoon. For all the nobility’s children, mornings were for large group lessons; afternoons were split into smaller groups by rank, gender, and interests.
On my way to the dining area, Father appeared from a nearby chamber, papers in one arm. “Truly!” he called, his face brightening. “I was hoping to see you.”
He hugged me one-armed. “We’re headed back to Avivia next week. Aria requested you for her interpreter.”
“That’s wonderful,” I said, summoning a confident smile to disguise the emotional chaos still churning inside me. “Though she really doesn’t need me. She speaks fluently enough.”
“She likes having a friend, and apprentices always get the easier jobs. Enjoy it while it lasts.” He shifted the papers in his arms. “It will be a larger entourage than normal this time. You don’t want to miss the parties, do you?”
“Who else is coming?”
“Two dozen guards, the usual court members, and some merchants and nobles eager for safe passage. There have been more skirmishes near the Avivian border.”
“Will Hubert be coming, too?” I asked carefully, avoiding Curtis’s name.
“No, no. Not this time. Curtis was requested for this journey.”
My heart leapt in a way I hoped wasn’t visible. “Well, that’s good,” I said, aiming for casual. “I think the villagers like Curtis better anyway.”
“I think everyone does,” Father murmured conspiratorially. “Except for Hubert.” He squeezed me once more. “I’ll see you tonight, darling.”
I had worried that telling Curtis how I felt would wedge awkwardness between us, but it had the opposite effect.
Whatever temporary frost had been there melted, and within a few days, we were back to our usual rhythm—plotting routes to Avivia, marking towns we hadn’t visited yet, trading jokes and the latest castle gossip.
I kept waiting for him to try to kiss me again, but he didn’t.
One evening, while Mother and Father were out walking, I confessed my confusion to Comfort.
“Of course he won’t rush right in,” she said, wagging a knowing finger.
“He is probably lying awake right now, planning it all out in his head. He failed once and isn’t going to go forward without a plan now.
That boy of yours is light-hearted about a lot of things, but I can guarantee you that he is meticulously planning every detail after being rejected once.
Just wait. I promise you are all he can think about. ”
My stomach flipped over in giddy excitement.