Page 68 of Her Royal Christmas

Julia pressed her lips to Vic’s hair. “That’s my job.”

“Your job is to advise the Queen,” Vic said.

“It’s a very broad remit,” Julia replied.

They sat there a little longer, watching the fire, listening to the muffled thrum of the castle around them.

Finally, Vic let out a long exhale and pushed herself to her feet.

“Come on,” she said. “Let’s go back in before Alex tries to diplomatically negotiate with the oven.”

Julia rose with her, smoothing a hand down Vic’s pumpkin-streaked jumper. “We’ll clean you up first.”

“Or I could lean into it,” Vic said. “Make it a look. ‘Gothic Squash Chic.’”

“The cameras are off,” Julia reminded her. “You’re allowed to not be a spectacle for one evening.”

Vic smiled, a little crooked but genuine. “One evening,” she agreed.

As they headed for the door, Julia caught her hand.

“One more thing,” she said.

Vic turned.

“Tonight,” Julia continued, eyes warm, “if you see Alex and Erin trying to slip away alone… let them.”

Vic hesitated.

Then nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “I was… thinking the same.”

“You’re not the only one who wants everything to be perfect for them,” Julia said. “We all do. But maybe what they need most isn’t a flawless dinner. Maybe it’s just… a room with a door that locks.”

Vic thought of Erin’s drawn face over the past months. Of Alex’s tired smiles. Of the way they’d looked at each other in the kitchen earlier, fingers brushing over biscuit trays as if they were starving for contact.

“Right,” she said. “New priority: engineer one uninterrupted hour for the Queen and her very patient wife.”

Julia squeezed her hand. “Nowthatis a plan I can get behind.”

Vic took another deep breath, squared her shoulders, and opened the door.

Noise rushed in — laughter, barking, the clatter of pans.

And for the first time since they’d arrived at Balmoral, it didn’t sound threatening.

It sounded like home.

She stepped back into the chaos, pumpkin stains and all, and thought:

All right, Christmas. Let’s see who blinks first.

12

JULIA

Julia had always thought Balmoral sounded quieter in the snow.

Even inside the castle, with its endless corridors and thick stone walls, the world felt padded, softened. Noise from the great hall and the busy kitchens drifted up as a muffled hum rather than a clamour.