Page 82 of The Nightmare Before Kissmas
“Prince Hex. With Princess Iris,” he says. But his eyes are on me. Fuming. “I need a word with my son.”
Hex goes as solid as the ice we’re standing on. Iris isn’t far—but too far for someone who can’t skate to reach her. And are those tears in her eyes?
Kris is nowhere near her now.
My head snaps around, and I spot him behind me, furious glare on our father.
“All right,” I force out. “I’ll take him to—”
“Prince Hex,” Dad says again. “Now. This is a perfect opportunity to continue getting to know her. As you should be focused on doing.”
“He can’t—”
“Nicholas.”
I promised him I wouldn’t let him fall. That I wouldn’t let himgo.Well, this is how it ends, then, on an ice skating rink, because I am outrightdonebreaking promises to him.
So, when Hex pushes against me, I stare at him dumbly. What’s he doing?
“It’s all right,” he tells me. “I can manage.”
He nods at the railing. It’s close enough that he can reach out and grab it.
But—
“Prince Nicholas,” Hex says, “thank you for your help.”
He doesn’t look at my father, but he adds, “Sir,” and pushes on me again.
I release him, only because he gives me one last entreating look. He eases away and I don’t breathe until he grabs the wall and begins pulling himself down it.
Iris slides forward and takes his arm, her glance at me saying,I got this. We’re okay.
Like hell.
Kris comes up next to me.
I cut my chin to the side. “What—”
“Iris,” is all he says.
He was skating with Iris. Skating, and they were laughing.
And then Hex and I. Skating. Looking at each other like that.
“The two of you know how delicate these events are,” Dad says. But his face has gone pleasant so the crowd won’t see that anything’s amiss. No wonder Kris and I have such issues. Dad’ssmilingas he berates us. “When we are in the public eye, the image of what alliances our family presents is paramount. You know that well.”
“It’s alie,” I hear myself say. Echoey and empty still, hollow and achy.
I’m too on edge, and so I say those three words and watch my dad’s face go analytical, then ripe with distrust.
“Was I wrong to share that information with you, Nicholas?” He glances over his shoulder, to where Hex and Iris are working theirway around another lap of the rink. “The Halloween Prince is playing to your sympathies?”
I can’t put a name to the feeling that comes to life in my body when Dad talks about Hex. I feel my vision start to slip.
“He has nothing to do with that,” I say through my teeth.
Kris presses closer. “What are you talking about? What information?”
