Page 9 of Once Upon A Royal Christmas
“Her character name is Princess Snowflake,” Emilie said.
Of course it is, Nick mused.
“We think Princess Snowflake would be a lovely addition to the Ice Village, don’t you, Nick?” The queen rested a hand on his forearm. “Jaron has suggested that we hire a local actor to play the part of Prince Charming. As the contest winner, Princess Snowflake can do photo ops during the week leading up to Christmas, and then Prince Charming can accompany her on Christmas Eve at the opening of the ice ballroom. We think this Princess Snowflake character will attract new visitors to the Christmas market. Younger tourists.”
This was the part where Nick was supposed to be a team player and agree. After all, the decision had already been made. What difference would it make if he dissented? He’d been outvoted before he’d even set foot in the room.
But all those times Nick had asked for a greater role in the business of running the kingdom, he’d been steadfast in his intentions. He didn’t want to rubber-stamp things. He wanted to contribute. To make San Glacera a better place for everyone who lived there.
“She fits the theme,” he begrudgingly admitted. But she’s a Rent-A-Royal dress-up character. “With such a generous prize package, I would think we’d attract entrants who have more to offer than simply showing up in costume and acting sweet enough to make everyone’s teeth ache. Didn’t we get any entries from people with genuine acting experience? Real performers?”
“There’s nothing wrong with being sweet, dear,” his mother said.
“You actually might want to try it sometime,” Emilie said through gritted teeth. “Besides, you haven’t seen the best part. Keep watching.”
Nick forced his attention back to the video just as the screen went dark.
“Riveting,” he muttered.
“Just wait,” Emilie said.
As silly as Nick found this entire proposition, it warmed his heart to see his sister so excited about something—just not quite enough to melt away his doubts about the proposed winner. Or the contest as a whole.
Long seconds passed, and just when Nick was about to ask Jaron to speed up the video so they could get to the alleged good part, more footage flickered to life onscreen. This part of the recording was blurry and out of focus, tilted almost sideways, as if the camera had been turned on accidentally. The walls and ceiling of the room where Princess Snowflake stood were painted an industrial gray color, and at first, Nick thought the video had been shot at an elementary school. But then an IV pole came into view…and the corner of a child-sized hospital bed.
Nick leaned forward in his chair, despite his lingering reservations. The slight tingle at the base of his neck told him he might be on the verge of witnessing something he shouldn’t.
Onscreen, Princess Snowflake talked to the little girl whose petite head rested on the pillow. She brushed the child’s cheek with a tender swipe of her graceful fingertips and then crouched down so they were eye-to-eye.
Was there anything sadder than a child in a hospital bed? Nick’s throat went tight. He’d visited sick children himself. It was one of the toughest parts of his job. He suddenly had a new respect for the party princess as her voluminous, snow-white gown puffed around her like dandelion fluff. Then Princess Snowflake began to sing a Christmas carol. Silent Night.
Nick suddenly couldn’t seem to remember how to breathe.
She had the voice of an angel—dulcet and lyrical. So hauntingly beautiful that a chill ran up and down Nick’s spine. Every so often, her lyrics went breathy, giving the song an aching vulnerability that seemed to scrape his insides. He almost felt like a boy again—innocent and full of the sort of hope that had become so much harder to believe in now that he was a world-weary adult.
“Thoughts?” Jaron asked as the film abruptly cut off.
Nick blinked. What had he just watched? Certainly not a performance or an audition, but something special. Something real.
Still, he was a prince. He had a responsibility to make decisions for the kingdom with his head, not his heart. And intellectually, Nick knew this whole affair was a terrible idea. Not that anyone really cared what he thought at the moment.
“She’ll do, I suppose,” he said, acquiescing at last. As if he had any real choice in the matter.
“Very well.” The king nodded. “Jaron, you’ll reach out and make the necessary arrangements, then?”
“Of course, sir.” Jaron closed the laptop, signaling the end of the meeting. “And just so you know, plans are also underway for the Vernina royals to attend the Christmas festivities.”
Nick shook off the last vestiges of the trance he’d fallen into and stood. Five weeks of sleeping on hard, frozen ground had clearly left him bone weary and too tired to think clearly. Had he really just come home to find the esteemed House of Montavan joining forces with a parody of itself? “Pardon?”
“The king and queen of Vernina will be visiting San Glacera for the start of the Christmas market and Ice Village, along with their daughter Princess Alana. The princess has just returned from getting her advanced degree in America.”
“At Georgetown University. Right, I remember,” Nick said. He hadn’t seen Alana since they were small children, but the European royal circle was a small one. Word got around.
“We extended an invitation, and the family has graciously accepted,” the queen said.
Vernina and San Glacera shared a border and had long been allies, but the Vernina royals hadn’t embarked on an official royal tour of San Glacera in years. Not since Nick had been a boy. Wouldn’t they be delighted to arrive and find themselves mingling with a woman playing dress-up?
Again, Nick bit his tongue. If this meeting didn’t end soon, he might bite it off entirely.
