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“How is it that these rumors got Hubert’s love life right and mine so wrong?” Curtis replied, pretended to be offended, but then added. “I think that is what our parents are hoping for, and Hubert isn’t having any luck finding someone on his own. They thought both Hubert and I would be married by now.”

“Both of you, huh?” I asked. I marveled at how easy it was to talk to Curtis. In my mind, I had imagined this conversation being the most awkward of my life, but instead, here we were, old friends once again.

“Yup. They keep telling us we better get a move on and get married and start having a plethora of children to keep the royal line alive and well,” Curtis rolled his eyes. “My sympathies to whatever girl that has to mother Hubert’s children.”

A vivid picture of Hubert marching along a corridor trailed by six or seven little stiff-backed boys with expressionless faces and monotone voices, all dressed in crisp suits popped into my mind. I giggled.

“Can you imagine Hubert trying to teach his sons how to catch a ball?” I asked, trying to imagine Hubert playing with children at all. “Or kiss an owie?”

“Or braid his daughter’s hair?” Curtis grinned. “He would have her sit on a little fluffy pink stool and say ‘Now Huberta, sit still while Daddykins fancifies your golden locks.’” His impression of Hubert’s voice was impeccable.

Tears were beginning to well up in my eyes from laughing so much. It seemed like I had laughed more with Curtis in this half hour since seeing him again than I had for the years since Father had died. We went on, hypothesizing all the different scenarios that would come up for Hubert once he was a parent.

“What about you?” I asked later, hiccupping. “Your parents want you to get married and have kids too,” I added, “You will be a great father.” I could sincerely see Curtis teaching his children to ride horses and play dress up and pulling pranks on everyone in the castle. He would be the kind of father who took joy in the time he spent with his children, the kind who bragged about his daughter’s skill with a bow or his son’s prowess in chess.

“Pops is always telling us to get a move on. Hubert hasn’t found anyone who can stand him so far.”

“You didn’t answer the question,” I accused, but forcing myself to stare straight ahead, as if I didn’t care about his response. “Have you found someone, since the Aria rumor wasn’t true?”

“Why, are you interested?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

I didn’t respond, unsure of how to respond.

Curtis shrugged. “I am just the kingdom’s backup plan if Hubert isn’t successful in finding a wife, so I don’t have quite as much pressure. Honestly, I think nobody actually believes Hubert will procreate, which is why they keep reminding me to club a girl over the head and drag her back to my cave. If Hubert doesn’t produce an heir soon, then I have to.” Then lowering his voice conspiratorially added, “Though truth be told, I think any progeny of Hubert’s wouldn’t bode well for the kingdom.”

“I don’t think Hubert bodes well for the kingdom,” I returned.

“Milady speaks treasonously!” Curtis pretended to step back in shock.

“He is quite the diplomat,” I conceded. “And besides,” I added slyly, “None of the people he meets with never have to worry about him sticking honey buns on their seats.”

Curtis slapped his hand to his forehead. “I had forgotten all about that!”

I remembered only too well. When we were young, Curtis had snuck several sticky honey buns onto his father’s chair just before he sat down, and later when the king left the table, there were two honey buns stuck to the seat of his pants. I still could recall the horrified expression on the queen’s face with perfect accuracy, and how Curtis had tumbled out of his seat from his fits of hysterics, and then nimbly evaded the staff and sprinted out of the dining hall before he could be caught and punished.

“But surely,” Curtis said, “You found some romantic companionship in the couple years since…” He broke off, unsure of what to say next. Had he planned on mentioning the accident? Father’s death? Or was he eluding to the fact that we had been together before I left?

I shook my head. “No, nobody was ever interested in me.” Because of my face, I added in my mind. No one would ever want a girl with a face like mine. Add on the fact that I had just about become a hermit, and I should just as well have become a nun.

“That can’t be true,” Curtis exclaimed.

I wanted to respond but also didn’t want to draw attention to my scars. “Well how about you then? There are a whole host of girls who would love to be courted by a prince,” then added hastily, “just not Hubert.”

Curtis sighed and scuffed the dirt with the toe of his boot. “Plenty of girls, yes. But none that are interested in me. Just the title.” He gave me a sidelong look. “It seems that I did have one girl interested in me a couple years ago though.”

Again, I was lost for words. I had practiced apologizing so many times, but now that I was here… I had been so devastated both by my father’s death and my disfigurement that I had refused to see Curtis when he had come to call, ignored all of his letters. And here he was, still being as friendly as ever. I stopped walking, and Curtis also came to a halt. I had to say what I had come to say.

CHAPTER 47

“Curtis, I…I want to apologize,” I stammered.

He looked surprised. “For what?”

My eyes dropped shamefully to the ground. “You were so sweet after…after that day. With Father, and my injury and everything. You came to visit me and even sent me letters after we moved. And I never responded. I only just read them today. I didn’t know your arm was broken, and that you had been shot. I was too busy feeling sorry for myself to think of you, and none of what happened was your fault at all! I want you to know that I am so, so sorry. You were such a good friend, and I wasn’t a good friend at all. You deserved better.” I hung my head, ashamed.

We were silent for a long moment. Curtis stepped closer and took my hand. Then he cupped his other hand under my chin and raised my face up. “Hey, you were my best friend. You had a rough patch, and I knew that. Of course I wished you wrote back, but I understand why you didn’t. You had a lot to deal with.”

I gently squeezed his hand. “I’ve missed you so much, Curtis.” I confessed softly. “More than you know.”