Page 4 of Once Upon A Royal Christmas
With that sort of prize money on the table, it was a no-brainer. It was also probably the biggest long shot since Santa chose Rudolph to guide his sleigh one legendary, foggy Christmas Eve.
“There’s no way I’m going to win. Not with that kind of prize package. I’m a party princess. Real performers are going to enter this thing—professional actors, dancers, and singers.” Her voice broke a little bit on that last word, so she busied herself with finishing unpinning her crown in the hopes that Clara hadn’t noticed.
“You are a real performer, or have you forgotten about your music degree from Juilliard?”
Gracie set the tiara down on the counter. A stone had gone missing from the central snowflake, and sure enough, bits of pink frosting clung to parts of the filigree. From a distance, it was all glitter and sparkle, but up close and personal, it wouldn’t have fooled a soul. It was just a cheap imitation of the real deal.
And so was Gracie. The little girls at her events thought she hung the moon, but she had no business whatsoever spending the Christmas holidays with real royals.
“College was a million years ago,” she said, throat going thick.
“Five.” Clara held up a hand, fingers spread wide like a starfish. “It was five years ago. That’s hardly a lifetime, and you still sing to some of the kids as Princess Snowflake.”
“Not officially, and definitely not publicly. You know that.” Gracie’s eyes flew to the laptop. “You’re not typing that on the contest application, are you?”
“I’m not filling out the application right now. I’m answering an email from a preschool that wants to plan a Christmas party for next week.” Clara kept typing, studiously avoiding Gracie’s gaze. “And besides, the contest requires a video submission.”
“Good.” Gracie nodded. They had dozens of video clips from parties where she’d played Princess Snowflake, and not one of them featured a vocal performance. Because she didn’t do that sort of thing anymore. “Do you really think we should apply?”
Clara finally looked her in the eye, biting her lip as she did so. “I sort of already did.”
Gracie’s chest went tight. “You did what?”
She was going to need more than a simple pint of peppermint ice cream to get over this day. Clara never made unilateral decisions like this. Sure, they were partners, but Perfect Party Princesses was Gracie’s baby. It always had been.
“I know.” Clara pressed her hands to her heart. “I’m sorry. I really am, but this is a huge opportunity. Plus, I wanted to be able to offer you a little hope in case the meeting at the bank didn’t go well. We’re running out of ice cream...and so is the market down the street. I’m just saying.”
Gracie couldn’t really argue, considering her track record with loan officers thus far. It was sweet, in a way. And Clara had always been great at thinking outside of the box.
This is as far out of the box as you can get. The box isn’t anywhere to be seen.
“What video did you send?” Gracie asked.
“The one from the birthday party at the ballet school. So adorable. Remember?” Clara shot her a hopeful grin.
Of course Gracie remembered. “There was that sweet little girl who fell out of her curtsey.”
“Major heart-tugging moment. Those royals won’t know what hit them.” Clara nodded. The matter was settled, whether Gracie was ready or not. “You know we can’t win if we don’t enter, right?”
“Point taken,” Gracie said.
But Princess Snowflake knew better than to hold her breath.
CHAPTER TWO
The Abominable Snow Prince
Crown Prince Nicolas Luca Montavan had been back in San Glacera for less than twenty-four hours, and already his face was plastered on the cover of every newspaper and tabloid in the kingdom he called home.
The photographs, taken at Hornlihutte, the base camp of the Matterhorn, weren’t the most flattering. Nick’s eyebrows were frosted over, icicles dripped from his dark beard, and his face shone red from a serious case of windburn. But he’d been fresh off the peak where he’d been mountaineering and snow camping for over a month. He’d been sleeping in a glorified igloo for five weeks alongside the veterans he’d accompanied to the summit.
“The Abominable Snow Prince? That’s what the press is calling me now?” He looked up from the news app on his iPad to find his eighteen-year-old sister Emilie biting back a smile. “They realize I’ve been away on a climbing expedition with wounded war veterans, don’t they?”
The trip had been an annual event since the inaugural expedition nearly sixty years ago, organized by his grandfather, the late, great King Noël. Nick had taken over as leader of the climbing trek in his early twenties, eager to continue his grandfather’s meaningful work supporting the citizens of San Glacera who’d served in the armed forces. The goal of the trip was to show that no matter what emotional or physical challenges the veterans faced, they could still accomplish remarkable things. If they could conquer the mountain, they could face whatever waited for them back in the real world. Nick looked forward to the expedition every year.
He looked down at the iPad screen again and shook his head. “How could that possibly make me ‘abominable?’”
“I think you’re reading too much into that headline,” Emilie said as she dragged him away from the entrance of his palace quarters toward the castle’s massive central hallway, where rows of silver Christmas trees flanked them on either side.
