The Blight.
Anna picked up the pace. Squeezing past a harried-looking woman, she at last made it through the doors and into the Great Hall.
The Great Hall, as its name suggested, was exactly that: great. It was the largest room in the castle, with tall windows and a gleaming chandelier, capable of fitting a hundred dashing lords and twirling ladies, Elsa’s throne, and a massive chocolate fountain all at the same time. Once, it had even hosted an entire ice skating rink when a late winter storm had threatened the annual ice dance competition.
But now, for the first time Anna could remember, the Great Hall felt small. The single file line cutting through the portrait gallery hadn’t prepared her for the absolute crush of people that filled the Great Hall. Even on the busiest market day on record—shortly after Elsa’s coronation, when everyone had come to see their new magical sovereign—there had not been this many people. Or maybe there had been, but joy didn’t take up nearly as much room as fear. Fear filled the hall, as large and present as one of the Earth Giants in her mother’s tales. The voices all around Anna were pulled tight, sounding as if they would break at any moment.
“Everything is gone! It’s been ruined!”
“My cattle! They won’t wake up!”
“Never in all my days! It’s as if the very earth has gone awry!”
“Do you think this has to do with the Northuldra?”
“No,” someone grunted. “King Runeard, may he rest in greatest peace, made sure they would never trouble Arendelle again.”
“And the animals…”
Anna heard a strange noise from outside. It sounded like a mix of children learning how to play the violin crossed with the sounds of a zoo. Peering through the window, Anna gasped. The courtyard was just as full as the Great Hall, filled to the brim with farmers and animals. Sheep had broken loose from their shepherds, and the herding dogs, usually so careful, seemed distracted, following something in the air that no one else could see. All the animals looked like walking ghosts, their fur and hides the same sickly yellow-white. And even as Anna watched, a cow and two horses knelt to the ground, their eyes as large and black as lumps of coal, their mouths open and tongues lolling out until, suddenly, they fell asleep.
Anna’s stomach turned. “Excuse me,” she said over and over again as she tried to wade her way to the front of the hall, toward the throne where Elsa must be. Grumbling people followed in her wake as she wove in and out of the crowd, and more than once, she had to tug her quilt from beneath someone’s boot.
But with one last push, she made it to the throne, relief washing over her as she found Elsa standing there, just as Wael, the local journalist, yelled out, “That’s not going to help us!”
“Wael,” Elsa said, “if you would please only just—”
“Ah-hem! Winter is fast approaching.” Wael’s ink-stained fingers gestured wildly. “We will have nothing to eat! We deserve answers—and it’s your responsibility as queen to give us answers and take care of your people! We don’t have enough food to last the week!”
A hush fell over the Great Hall at his words.
Elsa stood tall, not backing down, but Anna knew her sister. She could see the overbright sheen of her eyes. It wasn’t just ice that could sparkle in chandelier light. Tears could, too.
Anger, bright and hot, swept through Anna. “Don’t speak to my sister that way!” she burst out as she reached Elsa’s side.
“Anna,” Elsa said, her voice low, “I’ve got this, it’s fine—”
Anna glared at Wael. “No, it’s not!”
The man glared right back.
“Elsa is doing her best,” Anna plowed on, her words coming fast and furious. “She has a plan! She’ll fix everything before she leaves on the grand tour!”
Next to her, she heard Elsa’s breath catch. “Anna—”
“That’s in just three days,” a tired-looking villager said, her arms full of what Anna thought was supposed to be emerald zucchini but now looked more like great white slugs. “Can the queen really—”
“Anna—” Elsa tried again.
But Anna didn’t listen. She was going to stick up for her sister. Elsa might be able to stand there and listen to people doubt her, but Anna wasn’t going to have any of it.
“Of course Elsa can!” Anna said, holding on to their glowing secret, the promise of the mysterious book.
“ANNA.” Elsa flung out her hand. There was a time when icy spears would have sprouted from the floor, but Elsa had control of her magical powers now. Instead of a dangerously pointed ice spear, it was now just a gesture—to remind her sister to watch what she said. “I apologize for my sister,” Elsa said to the Great Hall at large. Her chin had lifted in the exact same way Anna remembered her father lifting his during special ceremonies, when he was trying to be his most regal.
Anna opened her mouth to protest, but one glance at Elsa’s expression squashed any words she had left. Her cheeks flushed. Burning anger transformed into burning embarrassment. What had she done?
“I understand your concern,” Elsa continued, her voice steady and cool. “And I share it. What I’ve been trying to say is, to show my commitment to solving the problem of the ruined crops and sick animals, I’m postponing my grand tour until I can sort out this troubling matter at hand.”
“What?” Anna gasped before she could stop herself, shocked her sister would cancel her grand tour. She didn’t understand what Elsa was thinking—what if postponement convinced the dignitaries and people from other lands that Arendelle wasn’t, in fact, opening its gates, but closing them once again? And from the shocked look on Wael’s face and the murmur of the crowd, Anna knew she wasn’t the only one surprised by this announcement.
If they hadn’t been standing in front of a large crowd of stressed villagers, Anna imagined Elsa would be rubbing her temples and sighing right about now. But they were standing in front of stressed villagers, and her sister never failed to live up to what was expected of her: she was queen, regal and unflappable.
“Because,” Elsa said, speaking loud enough for all to hear, “the royal ship is loaded with rations of food, apples, wheat, dried vegetables, cheeses, cans of pickled herring, and sausages. We need to share our surplus, or else the villagers with Blight-stricken farms will suffer further.” Once again, Elsa had come up with the perfect solution—one so obvious Anna wondered why she hadn’t thought of it herself. Elsa was so good at seeing the larger tapestry, while Anna let herself get distracted by whatever thread was dangling in front of her at that very moment.
“That amount of food will only last us all three days at the most,” Wael protested. “And what makes you think the food on your ship hasn’t soured, Your Majesty?” There was something about his all-knowing attitude that made Anna want to release Marshmallow, Elsa’s dangerous giant snowman—and Olaf’s little brother—on him. But seeing as that wasn’t an option, since Marshmallow was currently the housekeeper for the ice palace on top of the North Mountain, she’d settle for glaring at Wael instead.
“I’ll scour our kitchen here,” Elsa offered.