Page 48 of Once Upon A Royal Christmas
“Relax. It’s no big deal. You’re still going to be doing the Christmas tour, as planned. But they’re adding a few more things to your agenda. They’ve scheduled a stand-in for your rehearsal today because the carriage ride is going to take longer than originally anticipated. They can figure out the lighting and everything without you. I’ve already given them your song selection.”
“Oh.” Relief coursed through her. She’d been dreading rehearsal. At least now she could postpone singing for a bit longer. “But there’s still more. I know I heard it. Go ahead and say it again.”
“It’s really no big deal,” Clara said. “They’ve also decided that Prince Nick is going to be your escort for all the holiday activities.”
No big deal? Was she serious?
Gracie shook her head. “No. Absolutely not. That’s not what was supposed to happen.”
“Newsflash: there are worse things than having to sit beside a handsome prince in a horse-drawn carriage,” Clara said.
Gracie wanted to crawl under the table. She’d completely forgotten about the carriage ride. And wasn’t that happening today? “I can’t. This is just too awkward. I’m starting to feel like I won some weird royal version of The Bachelor instead of a holiday contest.”
Clara’s head tilted. “Huh. I hadn’t thought of it that way. I guess it is sort of like an episode of Fairy Tale I Do.”
“No, it most definitely isn’t.” Except for the part about the carriage. And the castle. And the poufy princess gown.
Nick couldn’t possibly be on board with this idea. He’d probably rather abdicate and flee the kingdom than ride around in a horse-drawn carriage with her while she was dressed as Princess Snowflake.
“I thought Nick was supposed to be spending time with a real princess this week?” Gracie picked at the flaky pastry of the croissant on her plate.
It wasn’t as if she truly despised him. Things would be a lot easier if she did. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t seem to forget how much she’d liked him on her very first day in San Glacera. How butterflies had floated through her like snow flurries while they’d walked through the Christmas market together. How her head had spun when he’d asked her to meet him at the castle gate later that evening. Or how she’d gone warm all over when he’d told her that her singing was beautiful. She’d wanted to throw her arms around him right here in the Christmas tree maze.
The croissant lodged in her throat. She needed to forget all about that. Nick had certainly had no trouble pretending they’d never had any sort of chemistry once he’d found out who she really was.
“Speak of the devil.” Clara aimed a pointed glance toward a group of people who stepped inside the lobby of the B&B, just visible through the dining room’s stone archway, where another sprig of mistletoe hung from a velvet ribbon. “That’s got to be her, right? Princess Alana? She looks every inch a princess.”
Gracie followed Clara’s gaze and immediately knew who her friend was referring to. A woman who looked to be about their age stood beside a middle-aged couple busy chatting with Ingrid’s husband Max at the registration desk. She had smooth blonde hair twisted into an artfully arranged low bun, wide green eyes, and a peaches-and-cream complexion. A hat was jauntily perched on the young woman’s head, but it wasn’t a knit beanie topped with a fluffy pompon like the one Gracie always wore. This one was a red cloche, decorated with an elaborately folded cluster of felt flowers and paired with a matching scarf tucked neatly into the collar of a coat that had a swingy cape attached to the shoulders. It looked like something the Duchess of Cambridge would wear to church on Christmas morning.
Gracie swallowed hard. “I think you’re right.”
Visions of her Princess Snowflake costume danced in her head, along with her gaudy, over-the-top crown, dotted with pink cupcake frosting. Somehow she doubted Princess Alana had anything remotely resembling the get-up packed in her posh Louis Vuitton suitcases.
“Oh, look! Our royal guests have arrived.” Ingrid smoothed down her apron—yet another ruffled holiday creation, this time in a print covered with Christmas Bundt cakes. She darted past the table and headed toward the lobby, where she greeted the royals with a deep curtsey.
Clara’s eyes went wide. “Did you see that?”
“I sure did.” Gracie couldn’t have missed it. She’d almost forgotten that real curtseys were a thing anymore, outside of theme parks and children’s princess parties. Ingrid had made it sound like they weren’t that important.
Clara’s forehead scrunched. “Do you think we’re supposed to be curtseying to Nick and Emilie?”
“I would rather die,” Gracie said.
Seriously, though? Were they? If so, why hadn’t Nick said anything?
Gracie didn’t have much time to dwell on the matter because the Kriegs were escorting Princess Alana and her parents into the dining room.
“Everyone, can we have your attention, please?” Max said as he stood next to the buffet table, which was flanked on either side by a Christmas tree decorated with shiny ribbon that looked like it had been chosen to match Princess Alana’s Kate Middleton ensemble.
Maybe it had.
“We’re pleased to welcome some very special guests this week—Their Majesties King Hans and Queen Sophia of Vernina, and their daughter, Her Royal Highness, Princess Alana.” Max beamed.
Gracie half expected a liveried footman to pop up out of nowhere and blow a trumpet like in an animated princess movie.
This is all so surreal.
There were more kings, queens, princes, and princesses running around this place than there were at the children’s parties that Gracie organized back home.
