“There was snow,” Anna said, her heart still pounding. “And trees! I was running, and then…I slipped!” She struggled to sit up against her pillows. “Elsa was there, and then she wasn’t. I was so worried!”
Her father strode forward with a tray bearing mugs of hot chocolate. “You had a bad dream,” he said. His ruddy blond hair, usually brushed back neatly, was tousled, as if he’d just come in from a midnight ride. For some reason, he was wearing his navy-blue uniform resplendent with badges and golden epaulets instead of a nightshirt. Bending, he placed the tray on the bedside table. “Elsa is in her room, asleep, as we all should be at this hour.”
But that didn’t seem quite right. The last thing Anna remembered was being awake in this same bed, watching the dancing sky through her window, wanting to wake Elsa up to…do something. But what? Anna squinted her eyes, trying to remember through the pounding in her head. Odd. That’s all she could remember. The only thing after that was the outline of her nightmare: a mountain, a wolf, and bitter cold.
Her father settled next to her mother and handed a warm mug to Anna. “Drink up,” he said. The steam uncurled from the mug, moving with the same effortless grace as the wolf.
Anna shivered, still a bit shaken, but she had never said no to hot chocolate. She took a sip, and as the liquid slipped down to her belly, it warmed her stomach.
Her mother patted her knee. “You know, when I have a bad dream, I always imagine crumpling up the nightmare and tossing it out the window so that Frigg has something else to fish for besides the moon and the sun. You remember the old story I used to tell you about Frigg the Fisherman, right?”
Anna did, but she shook her head. She wanted her mother to keep talking. She leaned back as her mother began the tale of the boastful fisherman who kept casting his nets for bigger prizes and accidentally found himself stuck in a nighttime ocean of stars. Anna soaked in the comforting presence of her mother, who always smelled like calming lavender.
The memory of the nightmare faded, replaced by what was real: her cozy bedroom decorated with pink wallpaper, thick ornate rugs, an oval painting of Arendelle Castle that she loved to admire, a tapestry of queens, and flickering candles in the sconces on the walls. Though no flames burned in the fireplace, a few embers still glowed like dropped jewels. And her parents there beside her were the coziest details of all. Anna’s eyes grew heavy.
“Feeling better?” her father whispered when her mother finished her tale.
Anna nodded, and he smiled.
“Everything is always better with hot chocolate,” he said.
“We should wake Elsa up.” Anna’s eyes fluttered as she held up her empty mug. “She’d like this.”
She almost missed her mother and father exchange a fleeting glance at her words. There was a shift in the room, as if a cloud had drifted past the window.
“Elsa needs her sleep,” her mother said. “And you should try to get some rest, too. Agnarr, can you please hand me that extra pillow?”
Anna’s father stood and walked over to the white-painted chair that had been dragged from its place by the wall and now stood between Anna and the fireplace. Another pillow and a crumpled pile of blankets lay on the floor around it, as if it were a makeshift bed.
Anna looked from the floor to her parents. They only stayed in her room if she was really ill….“Were you sleeping in here?” Anna asked. “Am I sick?”
“You’re just fine,” her father said with a soft smile. Picking up the pillow, he placed it under Anna’s head while her mother tucked the blankets tight. Anna wiggled her toes to loosen the covers just a bit as her parents extinguished the lights and headed for the door.
“Sweet dreams, Anna,” her mother whispered from the doorway, the light from the hallway outlining her and Anna’s father.
“Sweet dreams…” Anna murmured back, sinking deeper into her pillow.
The patch of light grew smaller and smaller, until, at last, it vanished as the door clicked shut. Anna listened to the sound of her parents’ footsteps recede before she turned her cheek to stare out her window.
The sky was asleep now, the ribbons of color from the northern lights tucked beneath a patchwork quilt of clouds. But the moon stayed bright. It glared down at her like one of the wolf’s yellow eyes. Watching. And waiting. But for what?
Cold again, Anna pulled the covers over her head, but sleep never came.
ANNA FLEW DOWN the carpeted castle stairs of the second great hall, taking them two at a time.
She nearly tripped on the landing, but she didn’t bother to slow down. The clock tower had already tolled ten in the morning, and she’d promised Elsa she wouldn’t be late. For a second, she thought about sliding down the banister. It really was the fastest way to get around, but at twenty-one she was too old for such things…right? Right. But…
Anna’s feet slowed. The white wood of the banister gleamed with a recent polish and the promise of speed. And her new riding boots with heels—a gift from a dignitary from Zaria—hadn’t been broken in yet and weren’t exactly the best for running. She glanced over her shoulder. No one was around. Decision made, she hauled the skirt of her dress into her arms, slung a leg over the banister, and slid the rest of the way down, landing with ease as she reached the first-floor landing. She flew through the castle doors and raced outside, toward the stables.
“Elsa! I’m here!” Anna whisper-called as she moved through the barn doors and entered the quiet world of sweet hay and softly munching horses. She smoothed down the back of her black dress and checked to make sure that her long chestnut brown hair was still pinned in place by a double braid. “I’m not late! Well,” she amended, “not that late. But I was having the most fascinating dream where…” She trailed off, and looked around.
Her only audience was the alert ears of the castle horses and the litter of barn kittens that came stumbling toward the stables’ entrance whenever someone entered. But there was no sign of Elsa. Anna brushed her bangs off her forehead, confused. Somehow, even though she’d overslept, she had managed to beat Elsa. Which was odd. Very, very odd. Elsa was always on time; it was one of the many reasons she was such a great queen, beloved by all of Arendelle.
Picking up a purring gray kitten that had begun to bat at her bootlaces, Anna took a step toward the livery. Maybe Elsa had gotten here so early that she’d decided to inspect the recent delivery of apples. Careful to keep her voice low so as not to startle the horses, Anna called out again. “Elsa?”
“You’re looking in the wrong place,” a friendly voice called from the far end of the stables, and a second later, Kristoff Bjorgman’s head popped over a stall door, a pitchfork in his hand and a bit of straw in his hair.
Anna grinned. She always did whenever she was around Kristoff—she couldn’t help it. When Kristoff had first started to visit the castle frequently three years before, Gerda, one of the people who had known the girls since they were young, and who also helped them schedule their time, had remarked to the sisters that he resembled the mountains from which he harvested ice: broad and solid. Elsa had whispered back that he seemed “nice.” When Anna had pushed her for a little bit more, Elsa had added “blond.” All of which was true, but to Anna, Kristoff wasn’t just a mountain man or “nice” or “blond,” he was her best friend—and definitely something more, even if he did sometimes smell like a reindeer. Which was completely understandable, given his other best friend, Sven, was a reindeer.