Page 82 of A Princess for Christmas

“Oh!” Gabby turned red and started stacking books like she was on speed.

On the other hand, King Emil could go fuck himself.

Leo turned to say as much, but Marie had her father by the elbow and was in the process of yanking him out of the room.

Well. Okay then.

“He’s a royal jerkface,” Leo muttered as he helped Gabby put the books back on the shelves.

Gabby giggled, which had been his aim, but then said, quietly, “Frau Lehman said I could use the library.”

“Yes,” Leo said. “But did she say you could treat it like your own personal property and mess it up like this?”

“No. She said I could borrow one book and take it to my room, which I did... but then I came back.” She hung her head. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to, kiddo.” As much as he hated it.

Marie invited Mr.Benz to stay for cocktails and dinner. He was startled by her invitation but accepted, as she’d known he would. Instead of seeing it as an invitation he was free to refuse, he would regard it as his duty. She was using him, shamelessly, as she had that morning. It wasn’t something she normally did, and she vowed not to make a habit of it. But she hoped his presence might act as a buffer between her father and the Riccis. Not that Mr.Benz was known for his sparkling, upbeat personality, but she didn’t have a lot of options here. Anyway, he was often so wound up this time of year that it might have the side effect of doing him some good.

To her surprise, though, they didn’t really need him.

Gabby marched straight up to her father and said, “Your Majesty, I would like to apologize for using your library uninvitedand for treating it disrespectfully. I got carried away with my enthusiasm for some of the books I found there, and I lost track of my manners. It won’t happen again.”

She performed another of her little half curtsies—Marie really needed to impress upon her that she didn’t need to do that—and turned to Leo, who nodded very slightly, as if signing off on the statement of remorse.

Her father remained silent, staring at Gabby.

“MissRicci,” Mr.Benz said, “if you would be so kind as to inform me what sorts of books you like, I will see to it that—”

The king held up a hand, silencing his equerry, and Marie suppressed a sigh. This was exactly why she’d invited Mr.Benz. He had a talent for smoothing things over, especially where her father was concerned. But if her father wasn’t even going to let him speak, he might as well go home.

“I accept your apology, and I offer you one of my own,” her father said, and Marie was certain that hers was not the only jaw in the room that dropped. “My reaction to your presence in the library was out of proportion.”

She could see that Gabby, who had so clearly rehearsed her apology with Leo, had not covered what to do when presented with one of her own. The correct response, of course, was to murmur her acceptance. Instead, her eyes went wide and she spent a long moment looking like a fox at the culmination of a hunt before blurting, “No biggie!”

Marie had to stifle laughter. She would bet her kingdom—her literal kingdom—that no one had ever said “No biggie” to her father before.

The king, to his credit, did not react. He turned to Mr. Benz.“Miss Ricci is a devotee of fairy tales and yesterday she encountered a volume that contained some stories that had, heretofore, been unfamiliar to her.”

“Ah.” Mr.Benz nodded. “MissRicci, are you aware that His Majesty is himself the author of an English translation of a collection of traditional Eldovian fairy tales?”

“Youare?” Gabby exclaimed.

“Mr.Benz exaggerates the situation. I studied comparative literature in my undergraduate days. I undertook a project collecting some of the traditional tales of these mountains, mostly passed down orally in German. Since I was doing it anyway, I thought I might as well translate them into the languages I already spoke. They aren’t formally published.”

Marie could see that this news both astounded and delighted Gabby. The girl remained silent, though, probably afraid of saying the wrong thing.

“My father used to tell me fairy stories when I was a girl,” Marie said to Gabby. She turned to her father. “Remember? I never wanted to go to sleep. Maman would insist, but sometimes you’d wink at me, and then you’d sneak back into my room later and tell me another.”

He smiled. A real one. “I’d forgotten that.” His expression became quizzical. “I think of your mother as the rebellious one, but we did deceive her from time to time with our bedtime stories, didn’t we?”

“Yes!” Marie agreed. “Shewasthe rebellious one. But not when it came to bedtime, for some reason. I never could puzzle that out.”

“She was strict about your bedtime because she and I watched TV together after you went to sleep.” Father smiled in a way Mariemight have characterized as dreamy, thoughdreamydidn’t seem like a word that should ever describe her father.

As if to prove her point, he shook his head and cleared his throat as the smile disappeared. “MissRicci, perhaps we can strike a bargain. I do much of my work in the library.”

What work?Marie was tempted to ask, but she knew better than to disturb this rare moment of goodwill.

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