Page 6

The food that evening was delicious. There was roasted deer, pickled herring, smoked cod, saffron rice, quail eggs, and a wide variety of the succulent Avivian fruit we brought back with us. Comfort and Mother ate delicately, determined to not strain their corset strings in the slightest, but I was famished. I managed to tuck away just as much as Father, and nearly as much as Curtis, though no one could ever quite match his appetite.

After eating, the men began to rise and escort women to the ballroom. King Edmont gave his arm to Queen Evelyn, who grasped it and walked with him to the ballroom first. Father and Mother also walked in together, eyes locked on each other in that adoring gaze which was so widely envied. It was commonly said that Father and Mother were the perfect pair, and all the ladies in court frequently commented on how ideal my parents’ marriage was.

Comfort had a flock of suitors all clamoring to escort her in and claim the first dance. She laid her hand on the elbow of one burly squire, who looked delighted at his luck, and he led her off. Prince Hubert found an attractive earl’s daughter to lead in. I wondered what he thought of his betrothal, or if any of the girls he danced with knew.

Many people were walking in alone now, and I went to join them, but was stopped by Curtis, who extended his elbow to me. “My lady,” Curtis grinned at me. Embarrassed, but really quite pleased, I took his arm and allowed him to escort me into the ballroom.

The royalty of Islandria loved to throw balls for any occasion. A huge crystal chandelier, illuminated by hundreds of candles hung over the wide marble floor, casting a soft, glowing light over all the dancers. Ladies’ hooped dresses swished over the floor as dances were led, and an aroma of sweets lingered in the air. Tables laden with desserts and drinks stretched along one wall, the orchestra played at the front, and soft settees and winged armchairs lined the sides of the room.

Curtis and I often danced together at balls, best friends that we were. But tonight seemed different. Before, Curtis would only dance for the most energetic of songs, whirling me across the floor until I felt dizzy, and laughing as I began to lose my balance. But this time, we danced for most of the evening together, both fast and slow songs, and Curtis asked about the trip. I told him everything. In return for all my chatter, Curtis told me about his latest visits with the commoners in our kingdom.

“Do you ever wish you had been assigned a different role other than Commoner’s Ambassador?” I asked him. Since he wasn’t crown prince, Curtis had the flexibility to mingle with anyone without having to uphold a rigid image of power.

“I can’t imagine a better life than the one I have right now,” Curtis answered sincerely. “I can help the people who really need it, and don’t have to act like Prince Stuffed Head.” He nodded toward his older brother, who was indeed looking haughty and aloof as he stiffly led his dance partner through a series of steps.

“What is the worst part?” I asked, curious if anything ever dampened Curtis’ eternal optimism.

He pondered for a moment, then flashed his dazzling smile again. “Well, I did have a bad run of it in one of the northern seaside villages while you were in Avivia. There I was, innocently distributing out blankets to some of the families, and one of them had this huge dog that looked more like a bear than anything else, and it decided it didn’t like me at all. So it started chasing me, and I had to climb a tree until they could call it away.”

A vibrant mental image of Curtis dangling from a tree, knees and elbows crooked around a branch as a dog snapped as his breeches was too much. I burst out giggling. Curtis smiled and softly confessed, “I like making you laugh.”

I gently squeezed his leading left hand with my right, and replied, suddenly shy, “I like when you do too.”

Conversation lulled, and I watched the other dancing couples. I saw Mother and Father together, with Mother resting her head on Father’s chest, and Father laying his cheek against her hair, smiling in a way that told everyone how happy he was to have the beautiful Lady Lenora as his wife. Comfort looked flushed from the excitement of having one partner after another in rapid succession, with several boys still eager for her attention. She favored the burly squire that had led her into the hall and danced with him several more times. Hubert rotated between several dance partners, but never speaking to any of them.

“I didn’t know Hubert was betrothed,” I blurted out.

Curtis was unsurprised. “Oh, yeah. Him and Aria.”

“You knew?” I cried. “You never told me!”

“What, are you interested in him?” Curtis asked, waggling his eyebrows.

“Don’t be silly!” I chided. “I just wish you had told me! Aria was asking all these questions about him, and I didn’t even know I was talking about her future husband!”

“She has met him; she knows what he is like,” Curtis shrugged.

“Still!”

I wanted to ask Curtis if he was betrothed, but that seemed too forward. It shouldn’t matter if he was. We were just friends. But I couldn’t stop myself from imagining him moving away to a distant land to wed some unfriendly, cold princess who surely wouldn’t appreciate his sense of humor and wit and practical jokes.

“Who determines the betrothals?” I asked cautiously, not wanting to give away my concern about Curtis.

“The Council.”

“Oh,” I mumbled, then unable to stop myself, asked in a rush, “Are you betrothed too?”

“Nope. I’m a free agent!” whooped Curtis. “There are plenty of benefits of not being first in line to the throne, and that is one of the top ones.”

It suddenly felt like a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I felt much lighter and happier than only a few minutes before. I glanced over at Hubert, still stiffly dancing, though seemingly unconcerned about who he was leading through the crowd.

“Does Hubert even care?”

“What, about being betrothed?”

I nodded, and Curtis considered. “I honestly don’t know. We don’t exactly have brotherly heart-to-heart conversations late at night. Isn’t that a sister thing?”

Comfort and I did often stay up late, talking to each other. I tried to picture Curtis and Hubert, staying awake until dawn, and clutching pillows, giggling about girls and swapping stories about what had happened that day. I tried to picture Hubert smiling at all, but it hurt my brain to try and conjure up such an unlikely scenario.