Chapter 10 #2
I stood rooted to the spot, stunned and disbelieving.
I thought my friendship with Curtis was evolving into something more, but now, I felt cast off and betrayed.
Was I nothing more than a pleasant pastime, to be traded away when a shinier option appeared?
Was this my punishment for not accepting Curtis’s kiss when it had been offered?
That evening, I sat on a bench in the shadows at the far end of the entrance hall, a scroll of wheat price comparisons unfurled in my lap. My eyes, however, were on the grand staircase.
Aria arrived first, luminous in the low light. Curtis followed, his stride steady, his bow polite as ever. They left together through the golden doors.
My chest ached. The thought of Curtis—my Curtis—laughing with her, walking beside her, letting her in—was unbearable.
I hadn’t considered before today that other girls would be interested in Curtis.
I had never considered that Curtis could return their feelings and enter a relationship that would take him away from me.
I would lose my best friend. Why had I never thought of that before?
He was handsome, he was funny, and he was a prince.
Of course other girls would be interested in him.
What was not to like? How had I been so stupid as to think that he and I would stay best friends forever, without anything or anyone else to get in the way?
Each minute felt like an hour as I waited for their return until I couldn’t bear the silence any longer.
I went back to my quarters and paced, each turn feeding the fever of my thoughts.
I imagined them strolling through the gardens or on some balcony, laughing together. Curtis could make anyone laugh.
Jealousy pulsed through my body. I thought Curtis cared about me.
That just showed how shallow boys were. They were despicable and superficial.
I wished Comfort were here. I would be able to tell her everything and she would readily agree with me and be angry at Curtis for being so flighty.
See if I cared. I gritted my teeth. Who needed boys anyway?
I thought briefly of going back to wait for Curtis in the entrance hall but discarded the idea almost immediately. I would not be the girl who chased after a boy who was out walking with another girl. If Curtis wanted me, he’d have to prove it.
The thought crumbled almost instantly and I wilted.
Why would he choose me at all? We had a friendship, but in terms of politics and advantage, Aria had much more to offer Curtis than I did.
She was rich, beautiful, elegant, refined…
She would be the ruler of a scenic and successful country. I sat down heavily on the bed.
A soft knock broke through my spiraling. “Come in,” I called, hoping against hope that it would be Curtis.
It wasn’t.
Father slipped inside, a plate in hand. “You missed dinner. I brought you something.” He set the food down, eyes narrowing as he studied me. “Are you alright?”
I nodded, though my throat tightened and I wondered if I would cry.
“Want to talk about it?”
I shook my head from side to side.
Father studied me for a moment, then leaned back. “Have I ever told you the story of how I met your mother?”
Of course he had. I knew the story well; it was one of my favorites. But nevertheless, I always loved hearing it each time he told it. “Tell me.”
“Way back in the day, before I was old and fat, I made a bet with my friend who was, at the time, equally as young and stupid as I was.
I bet that I would be able to sneak into a nearby finishing school and steal a cake before anyone caught me.
You see, his sister attended the school and had told him that there was a cake decorating contest that day.
Now, boys are interested in three things: food, competition, and girls.
And when a young man is dared by his best friend to do any absurd challenge, every young man knows that he must agree.
So, I found an open window and saw tables all laid with cakes inside.
I ducked back down and waited until the room was empty.
“Once I knew there wasn’t anyone inside that room, I got a running start and tried to jump through the open window.
But I misjudged the window’s height, and my foot caught on the frame.
Instead of jumping straight through the window, I fell through the window, did half a front flip, and landed flat on my back on one of the tables holding cakes.
It broke clean in half, and several cakes fell onto me.
The noise it made would have woken the dead.
The wind was completely knocked out of me, and I couldn’t move a muscle.
“So I just lay there, gasping for air and covered from head to toe in cake and frosting, and one of the instructors came in. Now, I don’t know why this woman was teaching at a finishing school.
Everyone expects finishing school graduates to be dainty and ladylike, but this woman must have been there as a bodyguard.
She came in and saw me lying there, yanked me up by my ear, and marched me right down the corridor to the headmistress.
“All the girls heard the commotion and watched as I was being dragged down the hallway, trailing cake crumbs all the way. We came to the headmistress’ office, and the bodyguard woman slammed me down into a chair to wait for her.
But, all of that was worth it, because after the headmistress was done interrogating me, the most beautiful girl I had ever seen in my life came in.
The headmistress said that this was the girl who had baked and frosted most of those cakes I had smashed, and it was up to me to make things right with her. ”
Usually, it was at this point in the story that Mother would chime in with, “And you girls would not believe how silly your Father looked, sitting there with frosting plastered in his hair and cake ground into his shirt, looking as though he had been clubbed over the head. His eyes were as big as saucers!”
“Naturally, I started stuttering and spluttering and making a complete fool of myself, trying to explain to this beautiful girl what had become of her cakes.
The best I could come up with was telling her I would take her to the market and replace all of her ingredients and help her recreate her masterpieces.
“So the next day, after I had washed all the frosting from my hair, I picked a bouquet of flowers and took them to your mother. I apologized profusely about my behavior and took her on a long stroll through the marketplace and let her pick out all the ingredients she wanted. Then the rest is history. She fell madly in love with her frosting-covered destroyer of cakes, and we lived happily ever after.”
I always loved hearing that story. It was so easy to imagine a young Father, tumbling through an open window, being dragged off to the headmistress’ office by his ear, and Mother coming in to see a young man covered in her cake and stammering an apology.
The story had helped my jealousy fade from a boil to a simmer. “You should have been a bard,” I teased.
Father strummed an imaginary lyre and sang a dreadful little rhyme until I covered my ears, laughing. “Alright, alright, I take it back! Never sing in public or you’ll be run out of town!”
He laughed. “Are you feeling better?”
I hugged him. “I am now.” Father always knew what I needed. I never had to explain myself to him.
Another knock sounded. This time, it was Curtis who stood in the doorway. “Am I interrupting?”
“I was just on my way out,” Father said, and winked at me as he passed. “In any case, I believe my daughter was planning to run me out soon to protect her hearing. Good night, dear, I love you! And happy early birthday, Your Highness.”
When Father was gone, I kept my voice more formal than I ordinarily would have done. “So, how did it go?”
Curtis leaned against the doorframe. “Let’s see… Aria thinks Hubert is a stuffy old bore, and she’s not wrong. We compared notes on army drills. Then she asked if I was in a committed relationship.”
He paused. Stupid storytellers with their dramatic effects. “What did you say?” I asked, trying to sound as though I didn’t care.
“I said I already was.”
My head snapped up. “Really?”
“Well, I did consider just picking my nose and passing gas more often than Pooter but decided that wouldn’t do well to uphold the dignity of our country. I figured honesty and a few manners were the best policies for foreign diplomacy.”
It was impossible to suppress the smile starting. “You’re serious?”
“If you agree. I already told you that I like you, and you said the same, so I figured we should make it official.”
And suddenly, the air in the room felt lighter than the breeze off the Avivian coast. “Yes, of course I agree,” I said, and my smile nearly split my face. All that jealousy had been for nothing.
He’d chosen me.
I felt like I could fly.