Page 57 of A Princess for Christmas

“Dancing can be joy. Comfort.” He looked at her as if he’d recently uncovered a delicious secret. “Love.”

“Well, that’s not what’s going on here,” she said quickly. “None of those things.” She was lying, though. Hadn’t she just been comparing Leo’s embrace to a hot mountain spring? Goodness, she sounded like a lovesick teenager.

A laugh bubbled up, like a jet in her imaginary spring. Monsieur Lavoie looked at her quizzically. She patted his arm. “I’m sorry. You know I appreciate you, Monsieur, but if I never had to dance again, I would be a very happy woman.”

Yesterday, that would have been the truth. Today? She glanced at Leo. It was hard to say.

Chapter Eleven

“Waltzing is fun. Who knew?” Leo mused as they crunched along in the snow. Marie had asked him to come on a walk with her, saying she wanted to show him something before dinner. He hadn’t had to be asked twice.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Marie said.

“Oh, I’ve converted you to the swaying method, have I?”

She laughed. He loved making her laugh.

“No. It’s just that dancing with you or with Monsieur Lavoie is different from dancing at the Cocoa Ball where everyone’s attention is on me.”

“Isn’t there a cheesy song lyric about dancing like no one is watching?”

She scoffed. “Well, that’s a pretty sentiment, but I’ve never in my life been able to do that.”

Not even last night?He bit his tongue, though.

“You know who was a wonderful dancer? My mother.”

“Ah, yes, your beautiful, graceful paragon of a mother.”

She swatted him on the chest—for the second time this afternoon. He didn’t hate it. So he kept poking. “I bet she danced like no one was watching all the time.”

“She didn’t.” Marie grew serious, so he did, too. “She was extraordinarily graceful, but she was acutely aware of her position, and of the scrutiny that came with it. And even though she never let the outside world see it, it sometimes chafed. In public, she danced like everyone was watching her every move—because theywere, and she knew it. She just made itlookotherwise.”

That struck Leo as incredibly sad. “Your father was king, right? She became queen because she married him?”

“Yes. She came from an old, wealthy family, so she was used to attention, but being a royal is different.”

He marveled that anyone would choose such a life, especially if what Marie said about her mother chafing under royal scrutiny was true.

She must have anticipated his unspoken question. She said, softly, “He used to be more lovable. He used to be worth the sacrifices she made.”

“What happened to him?”

“Her death changed him. It brought out the worst in him. He loved her terribly. I know it’s hard to imagine if you’re only meeting him today. I don’t think any of us realized how much she stabilized him. Softened him. Until she was...”

Her voice cracked, and Leo felt like his heart did a little bit, too. They were walking on a path that cut through the woods—the hill the palace was situated on was crisscrossed with paths maintained for hiking and horseback riding and cross-country skiing. There were trees on either side of them, thickly lining the path even though they had shed their leaves for the winter. They’d beenwalking single file because the path wasn’t quite wide enough for two people to walk abreast comfortably, but screw comfort. Leo shoved up next to Marie and slung an arm around her shoulders, but he kept them walking so it felt casual. Sort of.

“I kept thinking time would help,” she said quietly, “but it hasn’t. She died just before Christmas—on the twenty-second. I wanted to take the next term off, but Father made me go back to school.” She huffed a rueful little laugh. “We actually had an enormous argument about it.” Another laugh, this one even more bitter. “Of course, he won.”

“What did he say?” Leo asked gently, not sure he wanted to know, because he feared that the answer might make him even more cranky the next time he had to see His Goddamn Majesty.

“He said that life goes on, that my wanting to be with him was just postponing us finding closure.” Leo rolled his eyes, but made sure she didn’t see it. “I went back to Oxford. I told myself he needed time alone, that we all deal with grief in our own ways.” His heart broke to think of Marie, rejected by her father, alone with her sadness. “But the maddening thing was that I don’t believe he addressed his grief at all. He just drowned himself in it. When I came home at the next term break, he was more brittle and short-tempered than ever. I try to do what he wants, to... be what he wants but...”

It was never enough. He knew how that sentence ended, because he could see her trying to manage her father, to smooth over his rough edges and placate him. “I’m sorry,” Leo said, and he was. So much. At least he and Gabby had had each other to lean on. He didn’t know what else to say, but Marie didn’t seem to be expecting anything, so he let silence settle. But he kept hisarm slung over her shoulders. They walked in silence for a few minutes until Marie shook off his arm. So that was the end of that little interlude. It was for the best—it had been feeling awfully cozy, and cozy was dangerous. Cozy was not something he could have in any permanent sort of way.

But wait, she’d pulled away because they’d arrived at their destination. A clearing. A big one, hidden deep within the woods.

“Wow,” he marveled as he followed her in. “You’d never know this was here.”

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