A Cursed Gift

Chapter Three

   A slow waltz starts up, and I blame Aaron. Everyone knows the waltzes are his favorite; but what they don't know, is that they're his favorite because I hate them. Aaron smirks at me as he pulls me against his chest and takes my hand. I glance at the crowd and notice that Annette is glaring at me. If looks could kill, I'd be shriveled up on the floor like a dried flower by now.

"Thousands of girls would kill to be in my position right now, you know," I tell him as we sway and spin across the dance floor. He laughs.

"Yeah, I know. Luckily I don't have a murderer in my arms. Just a psychopath."

I send him a halfhearted glare. "Who says you're not the psychopath?" I ask.

"I do," he chuckles, poking my waist. Right where it tickles. I resist the urge to double over and kick out. Instead I curse in Italian. Aaron looks like a pufferfish with his cheeks puffed out, barely able to contain his laughter. I probably look the same way.

"Still regretting that game?" he asks lightheartedly. He's talking about the truth or dare game we played as kids. One day, he asked me where I'm most ticklish. Foolishly, I told the truth. I have regretted it every day since.

I grimace. "With you? Every day, amore," I force out between gritted teeth. The tickled feeling still hasn't left me. He allows a quiet laugh before swinging me around. We dance in companionable silence. I glance up at him for a moment, and am shocked to see a pained look in his eyes.

I take my hand off his shoulder and cup his cheek. "Amore? What is it? What's wrong?" I ask, worried for his well-being.

He holds my hand to his face with the hand the had been on my waist, leaning his head into it. "If you don't feel well, I can—"

"No, Celeste, this isn't something you can fix," he interrupts. "I just..." He takes a deep breath. "The people will want me to marry Annette, you know that."

I do. That didn't change the fact that no had no idea why he was bring it up. Well, I did have some inkling. My stomach twisted into a pit of dread.

"Once she's my wife, I... we... won't be able to do this anymore. Dance together. Go to royal parties together. Hang out, even. I'll be too busy with stupid prince things to even see you. Then later... king things." He leans closer. "I don't even like her, Cellie. Not one bit. Not even as a person." He bites his lip. There are tears swimming in his eyes. "You know that, right?"

I pull back slightly, shocked. My eyes are wide. These kinds of thoughts will creep up on me when I'm alone, scaring me so badly that I push them to the back of my mind. I try to bury them, but they always resurface. Always. And it's driving me insane.

I lean my forehead against his chest. "I know. I know, amore. But... but..." I trail off, not sure what to say. I decide on the truth. "I just can't think about that right now. I don't want to think about parties or weddings or royalty or Prince Aaron or Commoner Celeste. Because that's not what matters. What matters is Aaron and Celeste, the two best friends who stick together even when everyone tells them they can't." I take a deep breath. "I love you, Aaron."

He settles his face into my hair. "I love you, too, Cellie." We sway for a while longer, even after the song ends and we are surrounded by fancy aristocrats and nobles and friends of the royal family. When the dance floor gets too crowded, we meander to the refreshment table, hand in hand. I'm about to grab a drink when someone yanks my hand from Aaron's, making me spill my red drink all over my beautiful silver gown. Aaron and I gasp simultaneously, and he rounds on Annette, who has claimed my hand with her icy cold fingers.