Page 35 of Once Upon A Royal Christmas
“He loathes my costume.”
“He’s a monster. Clearly,” Clara deadpanned.
“You seriously don’t understand how awful it was just now. Do yourself a favor and the next time a prince asks you out on a date, run in the opposite direction as fast as you can.”
“Weirdly, that opportunity doesn’t present itself to me all that often. As in, never.” Clara hopped off the bed and clapped her hands. “Come on, get up. We can trash-talk Prince Nicolas—or Nick, as you so affectionately call him—all night long, but first, you have to get out there and help the royal family officially open the Ice Festival.”
“You’re hilarious.” Gracie snorted and began the long process of unpinning her tiara from her hair.
Clara looked on in horror as she removed the first bobby pin. “I’m dead serious, Gracie. Come on. This is why we came here.”
“I’m a joke to them, Clara.” She blinked furiously as her eyes filled with tears.
She couldn’t do this. Wouldn’t. First, the stupid banks and now this. Hadn’t she already been humiliated enough? Did she really need to travel thousands of miles, only to be disrespected yet again? And, bonus! This time, the people who were mocking her lived in a castle.
“Not them. Him. Don’t you remember what Ingrid said?” Clara picked up the discarded bobby pins and began jamming them back in Gracie’s hair.
“Ouch!”
Clara stuck another pin into Gracie’s braided updo. “She said the prince was rather frosty but the rest of the family was just lovely. In fact, they’re so lovely that they want to give you thirty thousand dollars.”
Right. That.
“You can’t let Prince Nicolas intimidate you. Princess Snowflake is better than that.” Clara paused from her bobby pin assault long enough to smile. “You’re better than that.”
She was right. His Royal Rudeness wasn’t the only person in San Glacera. There were children waiting to see Gracie. Ordinary people, just like the ones she met every day back home—people who needed to believe in kindness and bravery.
And magic, especially this time of year.
Gracie needed to believe in those things too. She hadn’t realized quite how much until she’d been on the receiving end of a princely scowl.
She scrambled off the bed as quickly as she could. “You’re right. I’m going to perform. Sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“You were thinking with your heart and not your head. Ordinarily, it’s one of your better qualities. It’s the reason you’re such a great party princess.” Clara aimed an appreciative glance at Gracie’s ballgown. “The dress doesn’t hurt, though.”
Gracie hugged her friend. “You’re the best, you know that? I’m so glad you’re here with me.”
“Me too. Now let’s get out there and show your prince how it’s done.” Clara took Gracie by the shoulders and pointed her toward the door.
She gathered her skirts in her hands and charged forward but stuttered to a halt to make an important correction to Clara’s little pep talk.
“Just so we’re clear, he’s not my prince.”
He never was, and he never would be. San Glacera could keep him.
Nick stood beside his father as the royal family prepared to take their seats in the royal box, unable—or possibly unwilling—to believe what he was seeing.
The crowd at the Ice Festival was on its feet, cheering for Princess Snowflake as she stood at the foot of the majestic Christmas tree in the kingdom’s square, waving with an exaggerated royal flourish. They were besotted with her. All she’d done so far was toss a little glitter around and talk to the children near the front of the audience, and they were reacting as if she’d invented Christmas.
Also, did Gracie really think that was how royals waved? Because it definitely wasn’t. Nick had never once held his pinky finger that extended. Had any real-life human being? Ever?
“She’s quite something, isn’t she?” the king said as Gracie twirled her hands in sweeping, graceful movements and produced a glittery paper snowflake out of thin air.
She bent to offer it to a little girl on crutches wearing a plastic tiara. The child was one of hundreds who’d turned out to see the magical ice princess on opening night of San Glacera’s Ice Festival. When Gracie had been introduced, the squeals had been so loud that for a minute, Nick had thought his ears were bleeding.
Ah, but now it was his turn. Tradition dictated that the members of the royal family took their seats in the royal box just as the event got under way. They were announced in reverse order of succession, which meant Emilie was already sitting in the enclosed area in a plush velvet chair, waiting for Nick to join her. She gave him a quick wave—no extended pinkie finger, Nick noted—as the announcer called out Nick’s name and title.
“Presenting His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Nicolas Luca Montavan of San Glacera.”
