Page 51 of The Nightmare Before Kissmas
“But you can ride with Prince Nicholas,” she announces.
Somewhere deep beneath my self-pity, I know I deserved that.
“Brilliant!” the reporter coos. “The two heirs, racing together!”
A flash of a picture being taken. There’s no hiding the stunned shock on my face, sothatwill make for an interesting photo.
I find my voice and moan out what might be a refusal as Hex goes, “All right.”
All…
… right?
Iris beams. “Come. Let’s get some cocoa before the race.”
Hex blanches. “If you insist.”
The shock of his disgust against his fixed docile expression makes the faintest blip of a laugh bubble in me. It’s enough that it sends sensation back into my body, freeing me from the single-minded focus that dragged me over here.
As Iris leads him into the tent, she flips a too-pleased-with-herself leer at me.
Oh, the Princess of Easter isevil.
Chapter Seven
A few minutes later, an announcer calls for all racers to mount their sleighs, and there’s a brief moment of chaos in the tent as a dozen or so people shuffle out into the cold.
Kris tosses the rest of an iced cookie into his mouth and straightens his hat. “See you at the finish line.”
“I’ll make sure they keep it up for you,” I say.
He grabs his stomach and pantomimes laughter. “This guy.So funny.Try not to fall off the sleigh laughing.”
He says it to Hex. Who has been standing with us as we picked at the buffet, those intense eyes taking in everything around us with silent, patient care.
At Kris’s words, Hex sets down his untouched plate of food. “Fall off the sleigh? Is that a true possibility?”
“Coal will not let you fall off,” says Iris, punctuating the words at me, and I throw up my hands.
“I make no such promises.”
“Is this race… safe?” It’s a simple enough question, but asked with reservation, it rings with concern that he must not have intended to let slip. He quickly clears his throat.
I don’t want to lie to him, but Iris says, “Yes” at the same time Kris goes, “Meh.”
She glares at him. “It’ssafe.The whole track is well-lit, and even if you fall, it’s in snow.”
“Or a tree,” Kris mumbles.
Iris swats his arm.
Hex makes a low hum. “I see.”
“Racers, to your marks!” the announcer calls a final time.
I draw on every ounce of my seemingly limitless cocky confidence to face Hex and crook my arm for him. “Shall we?”
He studies Iris. The crowd in the tent. The reporters stationed around the stable yard.
