Page 11

“Bye!” I said, grateful for the escape. I hurried off, now wondering if I should have waited for a better time to tell him. That was so painful. I was glad we didn’t have any more classes together that day. For all the nobility’s children, same-age peers had group classes in the morning then broke out after the noon meal for individual or small group tutoring, based on our rank, gender, and interests.

On my way to the dining area, I saw Father emerging from a meeting. “Truly!” he called out. “I was hoping to see you.” He hugged me with one arm, his other occupied with a bundle of papers. “We are headed back to Avivia next week. Aria requested you particularly.”

“That is wonderful,” I said, trying my best to sound confident and casual to cover up the embarrassment of my recent conversation.

“Yes it is,” Father agreed. “It will be a large entourage this time.”

“Who else is coming?”

Father began ticking off on his fingers. “Let’s see—a hundred guards, the usual members from court, and some merchants and nobles who want to travel with us as well. There have been more skirmishes near the Avivian border and they want the protection.”

“Hubert too?” I asked, careful to phrase the question in a way that avoided use of Curtis’s name.

“No, no. Not this time. Curtis was requested for this journey.”

My heart leapt. “Well that is good,” I said, still forcing my voice to sound relaxed and nonchalant. “I think the villagers like him better anyway.”

“I think everyone does,” whispered Father conspiratorially. “Except for Hubert.” He gave me a hug. “I will see you tonight, darling.”

I worried that stating my feelings for Curtis would make things awkward and uncomfortable between us, but it had the opposite effect. It seemed to have cleared the air, so that Curtis and I could talk again like we always had, and any residual frostiness from Curtis melted away entirely. We had great fun planning out the route to Avivia the group would take (being a prince came with certain privileges), mapping out towns we had yet to visit, and swapping the latest castle gossip.

I kept expecting it, but he didn’t try to kiss me again. I told Comfort that one evening during Mother and Father’s evening walk.

“Of course he won’t rush right in,” Comfort said, wagging her finger at me. “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.”

CHAPTER 9

The day before our journey to Avivia was to commence, I was packing when Father knocked and entered my room. “Looks like my little linguist is all ready,” he said, ruffling my hair so it stood on end.

“Father!” I protested, smoothing my hair back down.

He flopped down on my bed, toppling a neat stack of my folded clothes. He lay there, grinning up at me as an avalanche of petticoats and corsets cascaded down around him. The funny thing about Father is that he was always so dignified and proper when he was in public. But at home with just our family, he was relaxed and playful.

He grabbed one of my corsets and held it out. “My lands!” he exclaimed. “How did you get old enough to be in one of these torture contraptions already?”

“How do you know they are torture contraptions?” I teased. “Do you wear corsets often?”

“How else do you think I have such a neat figure?” Father replied, sucking in his girth.

“I should have known where mine were disappearing to,” I laughed and threw a stocking at him. He caught it and threw it back at me, and the stocking wrapped around my face. We then proceeded to throw all my stacked petticoats, underwear, and stockings at each other, dodging behind furniture, then popping out and returning fire.

Mother opened the door. “Mercy me!” she exclaimed.

Father and I looked up, Father had a frilly petticoat draped over his receding hairline and was holding a corset back, ready to throw. I was holding up one of my gowns to defend against the onslaught, stockings thrown haphazardly over my shoulders and arms.

“Really!” Mother scolded. “Cuthbert, what are you doing?”

“We are discussing important matters,” Father declared. I nodded solemnly.

Mother rolled her eyes. “You two are so alike.”

She began tidying up the chaos surrounding us. We both bent to help, but Mother shooed us away. “Go on and discuss your important matters outdoors, you silly things.”

Father pecked Mother on the cheek. “Lenora, you are the best.”

“Am I?” Mother asked, plucking underwear off Father’s shoulder.

“Yes, you are,” Father said fervently, kissing her cheek again. This time, he rubbed his beard against her neck.