Page 3 of The Winter Princess
How did she know he was worth thawing for? The question bothers me.
Ella examines the painting more closely, head swiveling between me and the canvas, back and forth. “She looks like you.”
I nod. “No surprise. She was modeled after one of our ancestors, Princess Alice.”
“Alice. Queen Magda’s Alice? What became of her?”
“The usual. Her mother picked a minor European prince to marry her off to. Parliament approved. A royal wedding followed at Roslav Cathedral.”
Ella shudders, and I laugh.
“What’s not to love about Roslav Cathedral?” I ask. “When it’s our turn, we’ll be part of history, along with every royal bride of Sondmark, making the most of that long nave, the route lined with tiaras and sashes. The stained glass and carved pulpit—”
“Shut up about carved pulpits. I’m not a princess,” Ella scowls.
My brow arches. “No? Someone should tell our mother and track down every member of the crowd who was outside the Summer Palace when the announcement of our births was affixed to the gates.” I touch her arm. “I’ll leave it to you to alert our godmothers, three reigning queens, that we’re frauds.”
Ella’s eyes narrow and she wrinkles her nose. “Not frauds, but you’re thinking of it the wrong way around. Being a princess is no different from having an online avatar. Princess Ella is only my username when I’m logged into the game. Every second we can steal from all this”—she manages to encompass our gowns, the vintage Rolls Royce we arrived in, and my stilted speech in her gesture—“you can be Freja who works part-time at the museum and wears weird clothes. I can be Ella who watches Asian dramas and has frustrating hair. And we sure as hell don’t have to wait patiently to be plunked on some conveyor belt to Roslav Cathedral.”
I nod at the Winter Princess. “She’s not waiting.” The figure’s face is intent on the knight, suddenly flesh after decades of ice-bound sleep. “I’d say they’re two drinks and a Lars Velmundson album away from amoetjewedding.” The kind of wedding with disapproving fathers and anticipated vows.
Ella giggles. “It’s so hot the snow is melting.” She sighs. “If the option is between fiery kisses and Roslav Cathedral, just know that I’ve already made my choice, no matter how many meters of antique lace Mama tries to bribe me with.” She pulls me from the bench, threading her arm in mine as we walk. “Speaking of hot things, what’s the story with that man?”
“What man?”
“The one you keep looking at.”
The temperature in my body plunges and soars within the space of a heartbeat.Vede, who else noticed?
“What do you mean? I wasn’t looking at anyone.”
She makes a sound in the back of her throat. “You’re so bad at lying, I don’t know why you bother. Sure, you were looking. He was about this tall.” She lifts her hand, slightly above my head. “Quite tan. Too hot to be a politician. He’s on the staff of the museum, maybe?”
“Do you mean Oskar?” The name jerks from my mouth, higher and louder than I intend. I recalibrate it with a cough. “I mean,NeerVelasquez.”
Ella’s look is arch. “Is all that looking your way of flirting? Because there are better—”
“That is hilarious,” I say.
“Did I say something funny?”
“You don’t flirt with Oskar Velasquez. You get out of his way and pray for the lost souls who didn’t.”
She gives me a long look followed by a tiny shrug. “My hopes are dashed. Haven’t you noticed he’s an absolute smoke show?”
I’ve noticed. I’ve been noticing for three years.
“I wouldn’t dare.” I fuss with my skirt as though it’s caught in a tangle, keeping my face averted.
“No? I could be your wingman. We could probably have this sewn up by the end of the night.”
I blink, a flicker of me and Oskar “sewing it up” flashing beneath my eyelids for a fraction of a second.
No.
No. Oskar Velasquez is rude and opinionated and territorial and the opposite of what I want.
“As fascinating as I find that offer,” I begin, marching Ella back to the gala. My strides lengthen, and she has to skip to keep up. We’re nearing a bend, and I glance back at her. “Our Head of Restoration is a cranky hermit, probably high on paint fumes. He’s frankly terrifying.”
