A Princess for Christmas

by Jenny Holiday

  The room went quiet. It was as if they were watching a movie, and they all knew they’d reached the denouement. “Would you care to dance?” Leo’s voice echoed across the vast space between them, but it was low and sure. As if his question was mundane and not the most remarkable thing anyone had ever asked her.

  “Yes,” she said, her voice also sounding remarkably steady. “Yes, I would.”

  The music started before either of them moved. It was the same song they’d practiced to. She spared a glance for the band—and found Mr. Benz standing behind the bandleader.

  How extraordinary.

  Leo started coming down the stairs, and he looked exactly like he had two days ago, after the snowball fight. He looked like a predator. He also looked like a prince.

  The tuxedo he was wearing was free of adornment. Leo Ricci didn’t do adornment. He didn’t have to. It was more the way he carried himself, confident—bordering on entitled, almost. Focused.

  Focused on her. So intensely. No one could mistake that look. That stride. He was staking a claim. He was coming for her.

  Earlier, she’d been focused on not making a scene. But she hadn’t known that this kind of scene was an option. Her entire body tingled as he jumped down the last few steps, landed like a panther, and began crossing the floor, oblivious to the lights shining on them and to the crowd watching in silent astonishment.

  She half expected him to ravish her right there, but he merely swept her into his arms. They slid into the steps as if the whole thing had been choreographed.

  “What I’m trying to do here,” Leo said immediately, speaking low so only Marie could hear, “is the royal version of throwing you over my shoulder and carting you away so everyone knows you’re mine.”

  Yes, that’s exactly what it had looked like. The sensations she’d had before, that she was about to float away, that she couldn’t get a breath in, started reversing themselves as they twirled, picking up speed. She felt strong and sure and calm. She knew these steps. She knew this man. “I love you!” she blurted. “I don’t want you to go home. Or if you’re going home, I want to go with you.”

  Leo grinned. “I love you, too, Princess.”

  “I was just on my way to tell my father that I’m not going to marry Max.”

  The grin grew self-satisfied. “I think by now that point has probably been made. But just in case . . .” He pulled her against him abruptly, ending the waltz, breaking the frame that Monsieur Lavoie had drilled into them. His arms banded around her and his lips came down on hers, brushing a light kiss against them. He kept their bodies moving in a slow dance, like in the woods. She smiled against his lips as they swayed.

  She could feel everyone’s attention on them. The silence in the ballroom gradually gave way to whispers, and then cheers—yes, cheers; how remarkable! She pulled her lips from his. He grunted like he wasn’t happy about that.

  “Are we dancing like no one is watching?” she asked.

  He laughed. “I suppose we are.”

  “My father might disown me. But I’m prepared for that.” She was. She had been since Max’s big wake-up speech. She’d been prepared to walk away from all this without knowing if she would be able to build anything with Leo. But knowing she did have Leo made her big declaration of independence even sweeter. It made her braver.

  He looked over her shoulder. “If we all sit down and talk about this like adults—”

  “Your Majesty! Your Royal Highness!”

  She turned. Whoever had spoken was extremely upset. It was . . . “Frau Lehman?” The housekeeper was not dressed for the ball, and the drama with which she’d burst in suggested something was terribly wrong.

  Frau Lehman hurried over to them, arriving at the same time Marie’s father and Mr. Benz did.

  The housekeeper looked positively horrified. Marie took the older woman’s hand, wanting to offer comfort. “What’s happened?”

  “It’s Miss Gabriella. She’s missing.”

  “No, she’s not. She’s in the library,” Leo said. He turned around to confirm with Mr. Benz. “Right?”

  They’d discussed a plan for Mr. Benz to make sure Gabby was comfortable and to convey a message that Leo—and, he had hoped, Marie—would join her later for a private Christmas Eve celebration. He’d even ordered up some of her butterscotch s’mores cocoa.

  “Indeed. I left her there an hour ago.”

  “Yes,” said Frau Lehman, “and you told me to join her. But when I arrived no more than ten minutes later, she was gone.” Frau Lehman’s voice was rising, bordering on hysterical.

  Just his fucking luck. Gabby had wanted to come to the ball so desperately, and look, here she was making a big splash with her absence. “Then she’s in her room.”

  “She’s not!” Frau Lehman cried. “She’s not anywhere! I’ve had everyone who’s not in here looking for her. We’ve covered the whole palace. I’ve got Thomas leading a group of men in searching the grounds now. But it’s snowing so heavily, and it’s so cold!”

  Leo was starting to get scared, but he ordered himself to be calm. Children didn’t just disappear into thin air at royal palaces. That only happened in fairy tales.

  But—shit. Shouldn’t waltzing with princesses at Christmas balls also be something that only happened in fairy tales?

  “She wouldn’t have gone outside in this weather, would she?” Marie asked. “There’s nowhere she . . .”

  The thought arrived in Leo’s head the same time it appeared to have landed in Marie’s.

  “Oh, Leo,” Marie breathed. “Do you think?”

  “Yes,” he said brusquely. He didn’t know whether to be relieved—he knew where Gabby was—or scared shitless. Frau Lehman was right. It was cold, and it was snowing something fierce.

  “Let’s go,” Marie said.

  “Would someone care to enlighten me as to what is going on?” the king asked.

  Marie’s eyes darted around like she’d only just become aware of their surroundings, her father included. Leo couldn’t blame her. They’d been dancing in a bubble. In their own fairy tale for two.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” Leo said. “My sister seems to have run off, but I know where she is, so if you’ll excuse me . . .”

  “You think you can come storming in here, make some kind of . . . declaration with regard to my daughter, and just leave?”

  He already was. He spun on his heel, part of his brain registering that the king’s words had been delivered in a surprisingly neutral tone. Almost like he was curious rather than angry. But whatever. He didn’t have time for this now.

  “Wait!” Marie called. “I’m coming with you.”

  She caught up to him outside the ballroom. It was a relief to be out of there. God, he wanted to kiss her again. She was wearing a shiny, royal blue dress. It was as fluffy as the cake-topper dress, and it matched her eyes. Her hair was loose around her shoulders. She looked incredible. She looked edible.

  She also could not come with him. He shook his head. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  Her father burst out of the doors, but she ignored him. “There’s no way I’m not coming with you! This is my fault. I’m the one who showed her.”

  “You can’t.” Her father could not discover the cabin.

  “Showed her what?” the king demanded. “What are you talking about? Where is Gabriella?”

  Leo wasn’t about to let the cat out of the bag on Marie’s cabin. He hitched his head at the king. This is why you can’t come.

  Marie shook her head, rejecting Leo’s silent message. “I don’t care if he finds out. I want him to find out.”

  Leo sighed. There was no point in arguing. There wasn’t time.

  Mr. Benz rushed over. “I have a car ready out front if that will help.”

  Leo nodded, and he didn’t bother protesting as the king and Mr. Benz got into the car with them. No one spoke. Leo watched Marie as they wound down the hill. She was sitting forward in her seat, as if she could will the car
to go faster, and when they’d gone as far as they could, she said, sharply, “Here.”

  Leo was out of the car before it came to a full stop. He led the way to the path, shining a flashlight Mr. Benz had given him and tamping down the snow as best he could with his stupid dress shoes—Mr. Benz had pressed coats on everyone but they were all still wearing their formal footwear—so that the people behind him would have an easier time. When they had to turn off the formal path, it was slower going, but his fear propelled him forward. It was snowing too hard for any footprints to be visible, but he kept up a steady chant in his mind, like a mantra: She’ll be there. She’ll be there. She’ll be there.

  He burst out into the clearing and only vaguely registered the king’s astonished “Dear god!” Leo was panting from the effort of running through the snow by the time he ducked through the doorway.

  And there she was. Curled up into a little ball, asleep in a corner.

  She was asleep, right?

  “Gabby!” he shouted.

  She woke instantly, surging to a seated position, her eyes wide.

  Leo sagged against a wall, rage and relief at war inside him. Rage won. “What the hell are you doing out here?”

  “I’m sorry!”

  Marie was there, suddenly, with Gabby, pulling her to her feet and hugging her. Which Leo supposed he should have done first, but he was mightily pissed.

  “I got so sad in the library all of a sudden,” Gabby said in a small voice. “I started thinking about Mom and Dad. And then I started thinking about how you”—she pulled out of Marie’s embrace and looked her in the eye—“said that when you came here it made you remember your mom in a good way. I thought it might work for me, too.”

  “Oh, sweetheart.” Marie looked devastated as she hugged Gabby close again.

  Leo’s heart was breaking. His poor, brave sister. The anger started to drain out of him. He had the absurd notion, all of a sudden, that even though he’d thought he was finishing this cabin for Marie, maybe he’d actually been building it for Gabby. Or also building it for Gabby. Because although it was cold in here, it was significantly less so than outside. And it was dry—no snow was getting in between those logs, thanks to Kai’s insistence on the Scandinavian saddle notch. “And then when I got here,” Gabby went on, “I realized I’d made a mistake.” Her voice was muffled by Marie’s body, but she seemed determined to finish her explanation. “The snow had gotten so deep. I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to find my way back to the road. It wasn’t as cold in here as outside, and I thought it might be safer to wait here, at least until it stopped snowing.”

  She had made the right call, but Leo was still . . . what? Pissed? Relieved? Heartbroken?

  All of the above.

  Marie hugged Gabby again, and Leo walked over and wrapped his arms around both of them.

  “I’m sorry, Leo,” Gabby said quietly as Marie extricated herself.

  “Don’t say anything,” he heard Marie say, quietly but with conviction. “Now is not the time.” She was talking to her father.

  He’d forgotten about the king, but of course there he was, looking around at the small cabin that had been started by his wife and finished by his daughter in direct defiance of his wishes.

  Leo sighed. There was still the matter of . . . his whole future to deal with.

  But then he looked at Marie, and she looked at him, and she smiled. And it was okay.

  It would be all right, whatever happened. Gabby was safe. Marie loved him. It was Christmas Eve. They’d figure everything out tomorrow.

  Mr. Benz appeared with a blanket and wrapped it around Gabby’s shoulders. “The forecast doesn’t show any sign of this letting up, so I suggest we depart as soon as we can.”

  It was hard going, but soon they were back in the car, all of them cold but unharmed. Gabby was clearly unharmed, judging by the barrage of questions she let loose about the ball. What was everyone wearing? How was dinner? What did they have for dessert? Were the decorations as pretty with the ballroom full as they’d been with it empty?

  “Kiddo,” he whispered into her ear.

  “Yeah?”

  “Hush.”

  She did, and he regretted his intervention. Without her chattering, the silence became charged.

  “Father,” Marie said, just when Leo was about to open his mouth and say something that would probably have turned out to be ill-advised.

  The king held up a hand as they pulled up to the palace steps, and never had Leo been happier to see the fancy old pile of rocks. Emil waited until they’d all piled out of the car and were in the grand foyer before speaking. “We will all visit our rooms and change out of our wet things, after which we will reunite in the ballroom.”

  “Father,” Marie said, “I really think, after all that’s happened—”

  Ignoring her, he gestured for Frau Lehman, who came scurrying up murmuring apologies as she enveloped Gabby in a hug. Leo knew that wasn’t right. Apologies were due in the other direction. “Gabby, do you have something to say to Frau Lehman?”

  She hung her head. “I’m sorry I ran off. You must have been very worried.” She lifted her head and looked the rest of them—the king, Marie, and him—in the eye, one after another. “You all must have been.”

  The king said nothing, merely turned to Marie and Leo. “I’ll see you back in the ballroom shortly.”

  “Father! You can’t pretend that none of what has happened tonight matters! You can’t just—”

  The king was already halfway across the foyer, speaking in a low voice to Frau Lehman, who had Gabby by the hand.

  “I think he can, love,” Leo said, a little impressed at the king’s relentless ability to ignore reality. To ignore his daughter. “But we don’t have to do anything we don’t want to. Come on, let’s go get changed and find Gab. It’s Christmas Eve.”

  “You know what?” Marie wasn’t looking at him. She’d turned to face the direction of the ballroom. “I am going back in there. I’m going to abdicate.”

  “What?”

  “When you came into the ballroom, I’d been on my way to tell my father I wasn’t going to marry Max. I hadn’t been using the word ‘abdicate,’ even in my head, but I was—I am—prepared to if need be. I’m not prepared to go back in there and pretend that nothing has changed. If he can’t see that—if everything he saw tonight wasn’t enough . . .” She shrugged. “Then I guess I need to make my point more explicitly.”

  Holy Mary, mother of God. “Okay, hang on now.” Leo took Marie’s hand and started towing her toward his room. She resisted. “I’m cold,” he said. “I need to change first.” He could give a shit about being cold, but he needed a moment to gather his thoughts, and he wasn’t above manipulating her sympathies to get it.

  Inside his room, he shut the door. “You can’t abdicate.” He rummaged around in his stuff until he found a pair of jeans.

  “I can, though. I can do whatever I want.” She laughed incredulously, like the idea was equal parts astonishing and delightful.

  “Marie.” Leo flung his wet dress pants to the side and jammed his legs into his jeans. “Listen to me—”

  “No. You listen to me. Do you want to be with me or not?”

  “Yes, of course.” He gentled his voice. “I love you. I just think we can leave this for tomorrow. We can talk to your father tomorrow. And if you need to . . .” Jesus, he couldn’t even say the word. “Maybe there’s a way to do this that doesn’t result in you losing your father.”

  “I already lost my father. He used to be my father the king. Now he’s just the king.” Her voice hitched and she swallowed. When she spoke again, it was in a whisper.

  “Leo, I don’t want this life anymore. Not like this, anyway.”

  He took her in his arms. “All right, love.” She was shivering. He tightened his hold on her. “But does it have to be now? Are you sure you want to go busting in there breathing fire?”

  “You did!”

  He chuckled. �
��Yeah, you got me there.”

  She pulled away from him and looked him in the eyes. “I think sometimes you need to make a grand declaration. You have to say things in a way that ensures they’ll be heard.”

  He still didn’t think she needed to do it that way, though. She’d be the center of attention, which she hated. She’d embarrass herself.

  “I’m done letting people tell me what to do. I’m done playing princess. I’ve spent the last few years doing exactly what my father wanted me to, the way he wanted me to, my own wishes be damned, and—”

  He cut her off with a kiss. When she put it like that, it was a no-brainer. He thought he’d been protecting her by trying to talk her out of abdication, but he could see now that what she needed wasn’t his protection, but his support. He pulled away. “Okay, let’s go. You want to stop by your suite and change first?”

  She looked down at herself. The bottom of her gown was wet, the deep blue looking navy. It was muddy in spots, too, and there were a few twigs stuck to its hem. “No, no, I do not. In fact, I think this is perfect for the task at hand.” Her gaze flickered to him. “I think we’re perfect.”

  He didn’t look any more respectable than she did, with his jeans and bare feet—which he proceeded to stuff into his sneakers. The two of them looked like Prince and Princess Ken and Barbie torsos had been mistakenly stuck on top of rag-doll legs.

  He held out his arm. “Then let’s get this show on the road. It’s Christmas Eve. We have other places to be.” Namely, cozied around the fire with Gabby, getting Marie an airplane ticket so they could all get the hell out of Dodge tomorrow.

  As they approached the ballroom, Leo caught a flash of yellow. A flash of yellow that looked like a dress on a small person who had just disappeared through the double doors into the room.

  “Was that Gabby?” Marie asked.

  Oh fuck him. Was this night ever going to be over? He picked up their pace. “Well, we’re already going out with a bang.” And this way Gabby would get her wish to see the ball, if only for a moment before they were all thrown out on their nonroyal asses.