Frozen: Conceal, Don't Feel, Page 2

  “Nothing,” Elsa lied. It wasn’t possible to put all she was thinking into a few words.

  “Ah, but it is something.” He leaned back in his chair and studied her closely. “I know that look. You are thinking about something. Your mother says I get a far-off look in my eye when I’m doing the same thing. You, my child, are a lot like me.”

  “Really?” Elsa brushed an invisible strand of hair out of her eyes.

  She was proud to take after Papa. She adored her mother and loved spending time with her, but often she couldn’t tell what her mother was thinking. Sometimes Mama would lose her train of thought when she came into Elsa’s room, or start saying something and abruptly stop. There was a lingering sadness about her that Elsa could never put her finger on.

  Take that day, for example. For years, Mama had always disappeared for one full day every other month. Elsa had no clue where she went, and neither Papa nor Mama ever explained. This time, Elsa couldn’t help herself. She was tired of the secrets, so she finally got the courage to ask Mama if she could join her on her outing. Mama looked surprised, then worried, then apologetic. “I wish I could take you, darling, but this is something I must do alone.” She had touched Elsa’s cheek, her eyes welling with tears, which only confused Elsa more. “I wish you could come.” Yet she had gone alone.

  With Papa, things were different. “I’m not thinking of anything important, Papa. Really.”

  “Something is on your mind, Elsa,” he insisted. “What is it?”

  She felt foolish saying she didn’t want them to go away, but that was part of it. With them gone, Arendelle was in her hands. Yes, the advisors and Lord Peterssen were there if anything important needed to be taken care of, but she was the face of the kingdom in their absence, and she could feel the weight of that pressing on her. Before long, they’d return and life would be as it had been before, but this trip seemed like a steadfast reminder that someday she would have to rule on her own. The thought was terrifying.

  “Elsa?”

  Two weeks alone in this large castle. Elsa wasn’t sure she could bear it. “Do you really have to go?” she asked. She couldn’t help it.

  “You’ll be fine, Elsa,” he promised.

  There was a knock on the door. “Your Majesty?” Kai entered. He’d been working in the castle since before Elsa was born. While the king ran the kingdom, Kai ran the castle. He knew where everything and everyone were always supposed to be. He was such an important part of the king’s and queen’s lives that he even had a room adjacent to their chambers. Kai pulled at a loose thread on the jacket of the green suit he always wore. “The Duke of Weselton is here to see you.”

  “Thank you. Please tell him I’ll meet him in the council chambers shortly,” Papa said.

  “Yes, Your Majesty.” Kai smiled at Elsa and disappeared.

  Papa turned to her. “You look like you have more to say.”

  Too much to share in just a few short moments. “I was trying to decide what to serve at the session with the subjects,” Elsa said instead. “Do you serve food? I think it would be nice to nourish them after their journey to the castle to see us. Don’t you think?”

  He smiled. “I think that’s a splendid idea. I’ve always been fond of your krumkake cookies.”

  “My cookies?” Elsa couldn’t recall ever baking for her father. “You’re giving me credit for something Olina must have made, but I’m happy to request them.”

  Olina was in charge of the kitchen in the castle and oversaw all the workers. When Elsa was a girl, she had often snuck away to the kitchen to sit with her. She hadn’t done that in a long time. And she didn’t remember ever baking cookies.

  Papa’s brow furrowed. “Right. Still, they’d be delicious. Maybe Olina will make them for our guests.”

  Elsa started to rise. “Is there anything else, Papa?”

  “Yes.” He stood up. “Before you go, there is something I wanted to give you. Follow me, if you don’t mind.”

  Elsa followed Papa to her parents’ bedroom and watched as he walked to a bookcase along one wall and pressed on one of the books. The entire wall opened like a door. A small darkened chamber was behind it. Elsa strained to see where he was going, but Papa didn’t ask her to follow. The castle was full of hidden hallways and rooms like that one. Papa and she had played hide-and-seek in a few once upon a time, but she knew now they were meant to shuttle the royal family to safety if there was an invasion.

  Moments later, her father came out with a large green wooden box. It was the size of a breakfast tray and was hand-painted with white and gold rosemaling of the golden crocus, Arendelle’s official flower. The top of the box had a beautiful arch to it.

  “I want you to have this.” He placed the box on the table in front of her. Her fingers traced the gold family crest etched into the rounded top. The box was identical to the lockbox her father kept on his desk and carried with him to meet with his advisors. It usually held important decrees to be signed as well as private papers and letters from the militia and nearby kingdoms. It had been instilled in her since she was small that the box should never be tampered with.

  “May I?” she asked, her hand hovering over the latch. Her father nodded.

  The lockbox was empty. The interior was lined with rich green velvet.

  “This box was made for your monarchy,” he said, and she looked up in surprise. “As you are next in line to the throne and just a few years away from coming of age, your mother and I felt it was time you had your own for safekeeping.”

  “Papa, it’s beautiful,” she said. “But I don’t need one now.”

  “No,” he said softly. “But someday you will, and we wanted you to be prepared. Kai and the staff know the lockbox by sight and know its contents are private. Whatever you put inside this box is for your eyes only, Elsa. Your secrets are safe in here. For now, I suggest you keep this in your chambers.” His eyes searched hers for understanding.

  Elsa ran her fingers along the green velvet interior. “Thank you, Papa.”

  He placed his hand atop hers. “It may not feel like it now, but someday your whole life will change in ways you can’t possibly imagine.” He hesitated. “Promise me when it does, if I’m not here to guide you—”

  “Papa—”

  He cut her off. “Promise me that when that day comes, you will look to this box for guidance.”

  Look to it for guidance? It was a box. A beautiful box, but a box nonetheless. Still, it was a big step to be given a lockbox like the ones Papa and the kings and queens before him had used. “I promise,” she said.

  He kissed her on the forehead. “Put it somewhere safe.”

  Elsa picked up the box and walked to her parents’ bedroom door. Papa followed her into the hallway, watching her. “I will,” she promised.

  Papa smiled, and went back to his work in the library.

  Elsa walked back to her room with the lockbox nestled in her arms. The air was warm, and though little breeze came through the open windows, the sounds of the village drifted inside. Elsa lingered at a nearby window, staring over the castle walls and the courtyard to the world beyond. The village was alive and full of people. Horses and carriages came and went. The fountain that held their statue near the castle gates shot water high into the air like a geyser. Children were splashing in the fountain fully dressed, trying to stay cool. She watched as a mother pulled her son out of the fountain and scolded him. Despite the tongue-lashing, the boy looked like he was having fun. When was the last time Elsa had done that?

  She wished Mama were there to have tea with that afternoon. It was a pity to sit alone in the castle on such a warm summer afternoon. Where was Mama on a day this spectacular? Why hadn’t she let Elsa join her?

  “Do you need something, Princess Elsa?” Gerda asked. “Water, perhaps? It’s so hot today!”

  Like Kai, Gerda had been around since before Elsa was born. She made sure Elsa was always well taken care of. At the moment, she was carrying a tray of goblets
with cold water. Elsa suspected they were for her father and the Duke.

  “Thank you, Gerda, I’m fine,” Elsa said.

  Gerda hurried past. “Okay. As long as you’re staying cool. I don’t want you overheating!”

  Elsa kept walking, holding the box tighter. She needed to find something to do to pass the time till Mama returned. Maybe Gerda was right: she needed to stay cool. She could take a walk around the courtyard. Or perhaps she’d read for a spell. Her father had given her some books to look over that explained arrangements Arendelle had with other kingdoms.

  She knew he wanted her to become familiar with things for the future, but at the moment, reading up on the kingdom’s dealings didn’t sound like fun at all. Elsa opened the doors to her room and made her way to her childhood desk. She placed the lockbox on top of it, staring at it for a moment. Alongside her things, the green box looked out of place.

  Maybe a box that sacred wasn’t meant to be out in the open. What important papers did she have to place in it? What correspondence did she engage in? No, for now she wasn’t queen. The box wasn’t needed, and hopefully it wouldn’t be for a very long time. She took it to her hope chest, her right hand grazing the letter E hand-painted on the lid, and placed it safely inside, covering it with a quilt her mother had made her when she was a baby. Then she closed the lid. A moment later, Elsa grabbed a book from her nightstand, the lockbox all but forgotten.

  Elsa heard knocking and woke with a start. The late-afternoon sun was casting shadows that tiptoed along the walls. She must have fallen asleep reading.

  Gerda poked her head into the room. “Oh, Princess Elsa!” she said in surprise. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I was just coming to get you for supper before I called on your parents.”

  “It’s all right. I’m up,” Elsa said, stretching her arms wide. If her parents were joining her for dinner, that meant her father’s meeting with the Duke of Weselton was done and her mother had returned. “Why don’t I call on them for you?”

  Gerda walked to Elsa’s bed and started to smooth out the quilt and fix the pillows. “Thank you, Princess!”

  Elsa’s room was above her parents’ chambers, which were above the Great Hall, where dinner would be served. While Gerda tidied up, Elsa headed down the stairs and stopped short when she heard them arguing. Her parents never fought, and she was so surprised, she wound up eavesdropping.

  “There must be something we can do! We can’t continue like this!”

  It was her mother talking.

  “Iduna, we’ve been over this time and time again.” Her father sounded frustrated. “We don’t have a choice. We must wait.”

  “I’m tired of waiting! We’ve lived like this for far too long!”

  “When it comes to magic, there is no timeline. He warned us about this.”

  Magic? Magic was part of a child’s imagination. The stuff of storybooks. Why would her parents be talking about something that didn’t exist?

  “We were desperate. We didn’t think. We should have tried to change their fates. Maybe if we appealed to Grand Pabbie again…”

  “No! We can’t be seen there. Even your travels to the village are getting too risky. What if someone learned where you were going? Who you were seeing? Do you know what would happen if she were brought here?”

  Who are they talking about? Elsa strained to hear more. Was this about where Mama disappeared to on her outings? Nothing they were saying made sense.

  “I am always discreet, and I won’t stop visiting.” Her mother sounded defiant. “We’ve missed so much already.”

  “It was the only way. You and I both know that. The magic will break soon.”

  “It’s been over ten years and it hasn’t waned! It isn’t fair to any of us, especially Elsa.”

  She perked up. What did this have to do with her?

  “Elsa is fine.”

  “She’s not fine, Agnarr. She’s lonely.”

  Yes! Elsa wanted to cry out. I am lonely. Her mother knew her innermost thoughts. It almost made her want to cry with relief. But she didn’t understand what that had to do with their argument.

  “We will introduce her to more people. The Duke of Weselton mentioned a prince he thought she might connect with. We’ve let her start coming to royal outings. The important thing is she’s safe. They both are. Isn’t that what we wanted?”

  “She deserves to know what she’s capable of, Agnarr.”

  “She will when the time is right. We haven’t seen any sign she still can—”

  “There you are, Princess!” Gerda came up behind her and Elsa jumped. “I was wondering if you had gotten lost. Olina is ready to serve supper. Have you spoken to your parents?”

  “I…” Elsa’s cheeks flushed as her parents stepped into the hallway, looking from Elsa to Gerda.

  Her mother kissed her forehead. “How long have you been standing there?” she asked.

  “I had just reached your door when Gerda arrived,” she lied.

  Her mother’s face relaxed. “I missed you today.” She linked arms with Elsa and started walking with her down the hall to the staircase. “I want to hear what you did while I was gone.”

  “Nothing much.” It was the truth, yet Elsa knew there was also much she wasn’t saying. Her parents talked about banal things on their walk to supper, but Elsa couldn’t concentrate. She kept thinking about their argument, and what her father had said. Do you know what would happen if she were brought here?

  Elsa couldn’t help wondering: who was “she”?

  Her bed was warm and cozy, and that incessant knocking seemed far away. Anna wiped the drool from her mouth and tried to keep dreaming, but it was hard. Someone kept interrupting.

  “Anna?”

  Her name sounded like a whisper on the wind. It was followed by more annoying knocking. “Anna?”

  “Huh?” Anna pulled a piece of wet hair from her mouth and sat up.

  “Sorry to wake you, but…”

  “No, no, no, you didn’t.” Anna yawned, her eyes still closed. “I’ve been up for hours.”

  Normally she would have been. She always rose before the sun to help her parents prepare bread. Their shop, Tomally’s Baked Goods, churned out dozens of loaves and bakery items a day. But the previous night she’d had trouble sleeping and her dreams were restless. She kept calling for someone, but she couldn’t remember who it was, just that she missed this person. Anna felt herself starting to drift off again.

  “Anna?”

  She let out a loud snore and jolted awake again. “What?”

  “Time to get ready. Freya is coming this morning.”

  “Of course,” Anna said, her eyes starting to close again. “Freya.”

  Wait. What?

  Her eyes opened wide. “Freya’s coming!”

  Anna practically leapt out of bed and skidded across the floor in her bare feet. She didn’t bother looking in the mirror. Her long red hair, which she had unbraided the night before, couldn’t be that messy, could it? Hmmm…maybe she’d give it a quick glance before she pulled off her nightdress. She looked in the mirror. Not good. Her hair looked like a bird’s nest.

  Did she have time to fix it?

  She had to fix it.

  Where was her brush?

  It should have been on the desk like it always was, but it wasn’t there. Where was it?

  Think, Anna. She remembered brushing her hair the morning before at the window seat, because it had the best view of Arendelle. Looking at Arendelle made her start dreaming about Arendelle and what she’d do when she someday moved there. She’d have her own bake shop, of course, and her cookies would be so popular that people would be lined up day and night to purchase them. She’d meet new people and make friends, and it all sounded so glorious she had started singing and spinning around the room with the hairbrush…Oh! Now she remembered where she had flung it. She knelt down and looked under her bed. Anna retrieved the brush and ran it through her hair as she walked around her room.

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nbsp; The hand-painted armoire matched the rosemaling on her desk, her bed, and her pink quilt. She and her mother had painted the pieces together. Her father had made her the rocking chair she sat in when she read, usually while she snuggled under her soft white blanket. But her favorite gift he’d made was the wooden Arendelle Castle he’d carved for her twelfth birthday. She kept it on the window seat, where she admired it day and night. Her pink room wasn’t large, but she loved it. Hanging on the front of the armoire was the new royal-blue apron with red and green embroidery that her mother had made her. She’d been saving it for Freya’s next visit, and that visit was today!

  Her parents were so busy with the bakery they didn’t socialize much, but her mother always made time for visits from her best friend, Freya. They’d been friends since they were girls, and they loved spending time together. Freya usually visited them in Harmon every other month, and Anna, her mother, and Freya would spend the whole day together, baking and talking. Anna loved hearing Freya talk about Arendelle, where she worked as a seamstress, and she loved when Freya brought her presents! There was that porcelain doll, the dark chocolate that melted on her tongue like ice, and the green silk party dress from overseas that had hung in her closet for two years. She didn’t have anywhere to wear a dress that nice, since she spent her days covered in flour and butter stains. A dress like that deserved to go to a party with dancing, nice lighting, lots of talking, and no flour spills. They had parties in the village, but Anna was one of the only fifteen-year-olds in town. She assumed Arendelle had a lot more young people than Harmon did.

  She pulled on her white dress shirt and green jumper, grabbed the apron, and finished brushing her hair, tugging at a particularly tough knot.

  There was another knock on the door. “Anna!”

  “Coming!” The sun was already starting to rise outside her window, and she had chores to do before Freya arrived. Freya was never late, while Anna tended to get distracted and show up a few minutes behind schedule no matter how punctual she tried to be.