Page 13 of Once Upon A Royal Christmas
No possible way. The presence of a king, queen, prince, and princess wasn’t even relevant. Gracie couldn’t do it—not even if she was a legit fairy tale princess and her audience was made up of mice friends, a la Cinderella.
But before she could make that abundantly clear to this royal footman or whoever he technically was, Jingle made another move for Gracie’s tiara. And this time, the animal wasn’t merely playing reindeer games. She was on a mission.
Oof.
Gracie teetered in her glass slippers, and the phone once again slipped from her hand. Then all she heard was the unmistakable crunch of a reindeer hoof coming into contact with Clara’s iPhone.
Jingle. All the way.
CHAPTER FOUR
Barber and the Beast
“Please open up, Em. I said I was sorry.” Nick tapped lightly on the door to his sister’s bedroom. Again.
Four days had passed since the ill-fated meeting in the press office about the Royal Winter Wonderland Contest, and in those four days, Emilie had barely uttered a word to Nick. She made polite, clipped conversation with him at dinner every night, but when their parents weren’t around, he may as well have been invisible.
Nick’s kid sister was giving him the royal cold shoulder. He was beginning to wish she’d kick him in the shin again. Anything was preferable to stony silence.
“Emilie?” Nick knocked a few more times.
At his feet, Mittens turned three circles and let out a resigned sigh before curling into a snug ball against Nick’s foot. His little eyes drifted shut.
“I’m proud of you. You really took some initiative, and you actually got Dad to listen to you,” Nick said, raising his voice an octave or three.
Mittens cracked one eye open and gave Nick a look that said really?
He was talking to a door. He knew Emilie was on the other side, but there was no guarantee she heard a word he said. For all Nick knew, she could be plugged into her headphones or lounging in a bubble bath, happily ignoring his existence.
And now Nick’s jaw hurt from clenching his teeth so much.
He glanced down at Mittens. “What do you think it’s going to take to get her to thaw?”
The dog’s furry little paws twitched. Emilie always said he must be chasing rabbits in his dreams when he moved like that in his sleep.
“Glad to see one of us isn’t losing any sleep over this sibling drama,” Nick muttered.
Then Emilie’s door flew open and he nearly stumbled backward over the dog. Mittens jolted awake and launched himself at Emilie, tail wagging like mad. The little traitor.
“Would you stop banging on my door? It’s really annoying.” Emilie gazed impassively at him before bending to scoop Mittens in her arms and pressing a kiss to the little copper spot on the top of the dog’s head.
In purebreds, such a spot on a Cavalier’s head was known as “The Duchess’s Thumbprint,” named after the Duchess of Marlborough, who reportedly found comfort in stroking the tiny head of her beloved Cavalier when her husband was away at war in the 1700s. Mittens was a rescue, and not quite purebred. Nick was pretty sure there was a little cocker spaniel in there somewhere. Maybe even a dash of some other breed prone to disloyalty in the face of family strife.
“Not trying to be annoying,” Nick said through gritted teeth. “I just…”
“What? You wanted to congratulate me on my first big idea?” Emilie shot him a saccharine smile.
Nick opened his mouth, fully intent on saying something complimentary about the party princess. And then…
Nothing. He couldn’t seem to find the words. No matter how touching he’d found the hospital footage, he couldn’t get past the costume. And the glitter. And the doe-eyed princess act.
Had everyone in this palace lost their minds? Was that how they wanted the public at large to see them—as cartoon characters?
“Ugh. You’re the worst.” Emilie thrust Mittens toward him and slammed the door in his face.
Nick’s jaw clenched so hard he could have cut coal into diamonds with his molars. Mittens licked the side of his face, and even that didn’t relax him like it usually did. He stalked back toward his quarters, holding the pup close. They’d simply have to try again later.
Back in his room, Nick deposited Mittens on the bed, and the dog immediately started snoring. Nick just stared down at him, wondering what it must be like to possess such a clear conscience.
