Chapter 6

Chapter Six

ALVA

W hen we re-entered the ballroom, no one seemed to have noticed that Nick and I had escaped to the stables temporarily. The dance floor still gleamed with twinkling lights, a winter wonderland of sparkling chandeliers and glittering gowns, just as I had envisioned when Santa had tasked me with putting together the most breathtaking ball the realm had ever seen. But as I stood at the edge of the dance floor, clipboard in hand, I couldn’t find an ounce of pride in my heart.

My gaze lingered on the prince, who was now twirling his seventh suitress of the evening in a graceful waltz, and I couldn’t help the slight resentment that bloomed inside me… Resent toward myself because I’d planned every intricate detail of this whimsical party meant to make people fall in love, but I wasn’t able to enjoy the fruits of my labor because all I could think about was the fact that I’d spent so much time making sure Nick would find his perfect match tonight, only to wish that maybe… he didn’t.

This was starting to get absurd. Why did a part of me not want him to find a bride? Could it be he’d been right? That I wanted to see him fail? No, that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Despite being troubled by his reputation, I didn’t want Nick to be thrown out of the kingdom. Our realm functioned on tradition; the magic that kept us alive was fueled by the joy of Christmas. If Nick failed to ascend the throne, the potential for a disastrous outcome was too great. As head elf, it was my job to prevent that.

Nick needed to find a bride. And I needed to stop looking at him like I hadn’t hated him these past three years.

By the Gods, though. The damn scoundrel made it extremely difficult to not look at him with googly eyes. Right now, he looked the part of the perfect royal prince. His crimson jacket clung to his broad shoulders, the embroidered gold detailing catching the light with every movement. His dark hair was still artfully disheveled, giving him that dangerous charm that seemed to make every female in the room swoon like their corsets were tied too tight.

But for the first time, I wasn’t seeing Nicholas Claus Jr., the careless prince who reveled in scandalous affairs. I was seeing just… Nick. The Nick who had knelt in the hay beside me, concern etched into his features as he ran a hand over Comet’s dull coat. The Nick who spoke of the reindeer with the same warmth and reverence I’d seen in Santa himself. The Nick who had brushed his fingers against mine in a moment so brief, yet so potent, I could still feel the ghost of it on my skin.

I swallowed hard, shifting my gaze back to my clipboard. I needed to focus. I needed to stop thinking about the way his eyes had flickered to my lips, or the way my belly had fluttered when his voice softened to say my name—only to correct himself and use my surname instead. But as I watched him laugh with yet another suitress, I couldn’t help the sting of jealousy that flared inside me.

This was ridiculous. I wasn’t one of the beautiful noble females here to compete for his hand. I wasn’t a daughter of House Frostpine or Glimmerholt. I was simply Miss Alva Brightwinter, an elf, bound to my duties to Christmas. That was my role, my purpose.

And yet, as I watched him pull the golden-clad suitress closer, guiding her with effortless grace, I couldn’t stop my mind from wandering. I imagined myself in her place, my hand resting in his as he spun me across the floor. I imagined the way his palm might feel warm against the small of my back, the way his deep, rich voice might murmur something just for me. And for one foolish, fleeting moment, I imagined what it might feel like to be chosen. Chosen not as head elf, or as the one to solve every problem Christmas threw our way, but as someone worthy of becoming Mrs. Claus.

I closed my eyes, banishing the thought as quickly as it came. I wasn’t here to fantasize about a life that could never be. I was here to ensure that Christmas didn’t fall apart—and to make sure Nick found a bride, even if it wasn’t me.

The music swelled, as one by one, Nick took three more females to the dance floor, their gowns swooshing, his hair swaying, until he finally finished his last dance. A sense of relief enveloped me knowing the ball had come to an end. I’d had enough of this party as it was and had no idea how I was going to endure the next two weeks of having to plan out every detail of his dates with the five females he was to choose.

He returned to the center of the room, his expression composed, but I could see the tension in his jaw. He raised a hand, signaling for silence. “My thanks to all of you for attending tonight,” he began, his voice steady but lacking its usual playful lilt. “After much consideration, I’ve selected five finalists who will move forward in this process.” He listed the names one by one, each announcement met with gasps and applause.

The five women stepped forward, their smiles radiant, their gowns shimmering under the lights. Nick offered each of them a polite nod, but his eyes lacked spark. He looked tired, almost resigned.

As the guests applauded and began to disperse, I handed off my clipboard to another elf, my shoulders heavy with the weight of everything that still needed to be done.

“Miss Brightwinter.” I turned to see Nick approaching, his eyes locking onto mine. “Meet me in the stables in an hour,” he said quietly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I nodded, my heart thudding for reasons I refused to examine. He stormed away, brow furrowed, lips set in a tight line. I’d never seen this version of him, and I wondered if perhaps there was more to the roughish prince than met the eye.

The cold air bit at my cheeks as I made my way to the stables, my breath forming soft clouds in the night. I’d changed into a thick coat, fur-lined stockings, knit sweater, and sturdy boots, more suited for the journey ahead. Excitement buzzed beneath my skin, mingling with nerves. I tried to convince myself it was all because of the problem with Comet and Blitzen—a problem Nick had asked me not to even bring up to his father. He didn’t want to alert anyone, at least not until we found out what was really going on—but deep down, I knew it wasn’t just that which had me on edge.

When I stepped inside the stable, Nick was already there, brushing hay off his fur coat as he prepared the sleigh, tightening the reins around the snow dogs who would be pulling us into the storm. He turned at the sound of my boots, his gaze sweeping over me in a way that made warmth rise to my cheeks.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice softer than usual .

“Ready as I’ll ever be to go into a blizzard,” I replied, my breath catching as he moved closer. For a moment, neither of us said anything. The warmth of the stable wrapped around us, but it did little to explain the heat building in my chest.

“Thank you,” he said finally, his gaze holding mine.

“For what?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“For believing in this,” he said, gesturing to the reindeer behind him. “For believing in me. I know that I come off as if I don’t care about Christmas or my duty as next in line, but I care deeply about these animals, and despite being aloof about my father’s operation, the last thing I want is to see Christmas ruined.”

Our hands brushed as he reached for the reins, and the contact sent a spark shooting through me. My breath hiked, and I saw the way his gaze dipped to my lips. The air between us seemed to hum with something unspoken, something forbidden. I took a step back, clearing my throat. “We should go. The sooner we find that healer, the better.”

He nodded, a muscle in his jaw working as he turned toward the sleigh. But as I climbed in beside him, my heart racing, I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d just crossed some invisible line… and if I’d ever be able to go back.