Page 21 of Once Upon A Royal Christmas
He should have been paying more attention. He should have been worrying less about the details of his personal life being splashed across the papers and more about the state of his kingdom. Maybe if he had, Jaron’s ominous chart wouldn’t have come as such a shock.
“It’s definitely fun.” Emilie’s gaze lingered on an ice sculpture made up of three enormous, interlocking snowflakes. Sunlight filtered through the chiseled ice, bathing the surrounding snow in pastel shades of pink and lavender.
Nick’s sister gave a wistful sigh. “So pretty.” She turned to face him. “You know, if you’re serious about trying to get back into my good graces, you should probably buy me a cup of hot cocoa.”
“It wouldn’t be Christmas in San Glacera without it,” Nick said.
He wondered if the hot chocolate stand was still in its usual spot, right at the center of the pop-up market, or if that, too, had changed. Mittens’s little nose twitched as they wound their way through stalls selling sugared almonds, colorful marzipan bonbons, and warm, fragrant gingerbread. The booth selling chimney cakes—tall, thin cakes that resembled a stack of cinnamon donuts—was exactly where it had always been. Nick inhaled the sticky sweet scent and remembered his grandfather’s laughter and the rough calluses on the palms of his hands, the mark of a people’s king. Not someone who sat in the castle and ruled, but the first leader of San Glacera to really spend time with the people.
Nick’s grandfather, King Noël, had been the monarch who’d started the Christmas market and the Ice Festival in the first place, so many years ago. He’d been the architect of every last detail of the village Christmas celebration. He’d also been the first king to go on mountaineering expeditions with members of the military who’d served the kingdom. Nick’s annual Matterhorn trip was an extension of that very program.
There was a reason Nick’s grandfather had been so beloved. To Nick, he’d been a larger-than-life figure—more than a grandfather, more than a king. He’d represented the best and brightest of San Glacera, everything Nick wanted to be when it was time for him to sit on the throne.
And now, in Nick’s absence, his family had decided to change the single biggest tradition his grandfather had ever started. Intellectually, he understood why. But he was still having a difficult time wrapping his heart around it.
“Look! There it is.” Emilie pointed a mittened hand toward the hot cocoa stall, situated at the spot where the rows of tents all came together. The heart of the Christmas market.
Relief flowed through Nick. It was good to know that some things never changed.
He let Mittens drag them toward a cluster of red picnic tables and benches where small groups of people sat warming their hands on steaming cups of chocolate. The Cavalier swiveled his little head from Nick to the cocoa booth, tail wagging back and forth like a pendulum. Mittens’s breath came out in tiny puffs of frosty vapor. Then, just as they approached the booth, Nick heard someone let out a sigh. Not just any sigh, but a soul-deep sigh of pure delight. Utter satisfaction.
“Ahhhhhhhh.” The woman’s head tipped back and loose, dark curls spilled over her shoulders.
Something stirred deep inside of Nick. How long had it been since he’d sighed like that? All he could see of her was the back of her robin’s egg blue swing coat and a glossy curtain of chestnut waves falling from a hat topped with a huge white pompon. He couldn’t seem to look anyplace else.
“Nick. You’re staring,” Emilie said under her breath.
He tried to drag his gaze away from the cocoa enthusiast. “I’m simply pleased to see someone enjoying one of San Glacera’s long-standing holiday traditions. That’s all.”
Was the woman a tourist? She had to be if she’d never tasted the kingdom’s most well-known delicacy before. So much for Jaron and his bar graphs. Someone had managed to find San Glacera without adding fairy tale characters to the mix.
“That’s all?” Emilie let out a snort that could only be described as unregal. She leaned far to the left in an attempt to catch a glimpse of Miss Cocoa’s face and blinked. Hard.
Nick said, “I’m not altogether sure what you’re implying, but…”
Emilie held up her hand in a wave before he could finish. “Bye.” She darted away, weaving through a group of boys and girls in uniform.
“What? Wait, where are you going?” Nick threw up his hands. He could hardly go barreling after her through a class of schoolchildren, an adorable dog in tow, without calling attention to himself. But he hadn’t dragged her to the market so she could abandon him. They were supposed to be partners in crime. They could go back to being royal later tonight.
Already at a short distance, Emilie turned around and winked. Then she inclined her head toward the woman enjoying the hot chocolate.
Here, he’d thought he’d finally convinced her to forgive him and all the while, she’d had her own agenda. She’d wanted to get him out of the castle and now that she’d dragged him out of hiding, she was going to double down and play matchmaker.
Seriously?
And just like that, with a flutter of her mittened fingertips, his sister was gone.
Oh. My. Gosh.
Gracie’s eyes drifted closed. She might have even sighed out loud.
Scratch that—she’d definitely sighed, and not in a discreet, princess-y sort of way. She sounded more like Goldilocks probably had after greedily gulping down three bowls of delicious porridge.
What was porridge, anyway? It didn’t sound all that appetizing, frankly. Definitely not as decadent as the sip of rich cocoa Gracie had just taken. Then again, what was?
Ingrid hadn’t been exaggerating. San Glacera’s hot cocoa was like nothing Gracie had ever tasted before. Creamy. Luxurious. Like drinking a melted bar of the purest, richest gourmet chocolate in the world.
“What kind of magic is this?” she whispered into her cup.
