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