How to Turn a Frog into a Prince - Bree Wolf Page 0,62

her eyes, and a tranquil look fell over her face. “It’s like music, utterly beautiful. I find it soothing and hauntingly sweet.”

Nathanial watched her as she stood by the water’s edge, her eyes closed and her bare feet lost in the tall grass. She swayed slightly to the soft sounds drifting past them on a mild summer’s breeze.

His own toes curled into the soft ground beneath and, before he knew it, Nathanial found his lids closing as well, his ears listening, his breathing calming. He, too, began to sway and his shoulder brushed against hers ever so slightly, no more than the soft touch of a feather.

“Thank you,” Nathanial whispered into the stillness.

Charlaine inhaled a slow breath before she turned toward him. His eyes opened, and he found hers looking at him. “What for?”

Nathanial’s mouth opened, his mind searching for the right words to express how much her friendship meant to him, but he could not. He simply looked at her, but it was enough.

A small smile teased her lips. “I know,” she whispered. “For me as well.”

Nathanial felt the odd impulse to hug her. Instead, he held out his hand. “Would you care to dance?”

Charlaine’s eyes widened. “Here? Now?” She glanced down at their feet. “Without shoes?” Her brows arched up teasingly. “Would that not be scandalous? Inappropriate? Utterly—?”

“Yes or no?” Nathanial demanded on a laugh.

Grinning, she slid her hand into his. “Yes. Always yes.”

Pulling her into his arms, Nathanial led her around the small, grassy patch between the grove and the lake, their feet for once moving together as they ought to. Not once did she step on his toes, let alone stumble and lose her balance. She moved almost gracefully, her brown eyes holding his in a way that made Nathanial forget the world around them.

This was a perfect moment.

Here and now.

With her.

His friend.

A wistful look came to her dark eyes. “I remember watching Amancia and Peter dance together on the beach not long before…” Her voice trailed off, and sadness filled her gaze.

“What happened?” Nathanial asked gently.

Her feet stopped and her hands fell from his. “A sickness swept through our village,” she whispered, her eyes distant, no longer seeing him as she stepped away and then sank down into the tall grass. “Peter had always been sickly. His doctor said it had something to do with fluid collecting in his lungs. Sometimes he could barely breathe. His doctor said he wouldn’t live to see another year.”

Nathanial lowered himself down beside her, his skin crawling with the pain and suffering he felt linger behind her words.

A small smile came to her lips as she met his gaze. “But he did.” Triumph clung to her voice. “Each and every year, his doctor told him he wouldn’t survive.” She inhaled a deep breath, clinging to that sense of triumph. “But he did. He did.”

With a long sigh, Charlaine pulled up her knees, her arms wrapping around her legs as she stared out at the lake. “But Amancia was afraid for him. She always feared that he would fall ill and that his weakened body would not be strong enough to battle the sickness.” Her chin came to rest upon her knees. “And then people starting to get sick.”

Running a hand over his face, Nathanial wished that there was something he could do to ease her heartache. A part of him wished he had not asked. Still, it seemed a part of Charlaine wanted to speak of the moment when she had lost all those she had loved.

“When our parents fell ill, their bodies burning like a hot coal, Amancia sent Peter and me away.” Tears began to pool in her eyes, but she did not try to wipe them away. “There was a hut on the beach we sometimes slept in, and she took us there, ordering us not to return until she came for us.” Her eyes closed, and a tear spilled over, slowly snaking its way down her cheek. “Peter didn’t want to. He wanted to return with her. He wanted her to stay. He…” She sighed, and then her eyes opened and she looked at him. “He was as afraid for her as she was for him.”

“But he went back with her?”

Charlaine shook her head. “She made him promise to take care of me.” A shuddering breath escaped her lips. “I was not yet twelve years of age, and she told him they couldn’t leave me alone. Peter begged her to stay, but neither could she