Sven’s head popped over the stall door to look at Anna, and he twitched his ears in a friendly hello. Though Anna had invited both Sven and Kristoff multiple times to take up residence in one of the many spare rooms of the castle, they both preferred to stay in the stables. Anna suspected they enjoyed the less confined living space of the barn after spending the summer months in the mountains harvesting ice for the kingdom.
“She’s not here?” Anna asked, bending to set the kitten down gently. It scampered away to join the others.
Kristoff moved his hand under Sven’s lower lip and began to wiggle it as he said in Sven’s voice, “Someone’s not listening.”
Anna smiled at Kristoff’s “Sven Talk”—he was always dialoguing for his reindeer friend. It was silly, but she loved it, and so she took “Sven’s” advice and listened to her surroundings. At first, all she could make out was the occasional swish of a horse’s tail flicking flies away and the mewling of the kittens tumbling around one of the water troughs, but eventually, beneath the usual sounds, she heard an odd buzz that sounded like…
“Oh!” Anna’s eyes widened and she hurried to the far end of the stables, where there was a little window. Peering through it, she saw just what she had suspected: a small crowd of villagers gathered in the courtyard. And though Anna couldn’t see exactly what they were surrounding, she knew exactly who it would be: Elsa.
Wherever Elsa went, people seemed to follow. They were there in the morning, asking her questions about what should be done in the afternoon, asking what they should be doing in the evening, asking what they should do tomorrow. Elsa’s table in the council chambers was always heaped with papers, and more often than not, Anna only caught a glimpse of her sister as Gerda ushered her from one appointment to another, always tapping the comically large calendar like a metronome to keep Elsa on the day’s beat.
And Elsa’s frantic schedule had only gotten busier over the last month, because at the end of this week, she would at last follow the tradition started by their grandfather King Runeard: setting off on a grand tour of the world. In five days, Elsa would leave from the Arenfjord, the body of water on which Arendelle was built, sailing past Weselton and the Southern Isles before heading east to explore lands like Zaria, Royaume, Chatho, Tikaani, Eldora, Torres, and Corona, to name a few. Elsa would meet everyone: dignitaries and dancers, scientists, painters, and prized mountain goats. And she would be going without Anna.
When Kai, the castle’s old steward, had first mentioned it was time for Elsa to start planning for her grand tour, Anna had assumed she would be going with her older sister. But as the months dwindled down to weeks and then to days, Elsa still hadn’t invited her. And it wasn’t as though Anna hadn’t given Elsa plenty of chances to ask her. Only last week, Anna had oh-so-casually mentioned that it had always been a dream of hers to see the Chathoan ballet—and she’d said so in Chathoanese. She’d spent days perfecting her accent. Before that, she’d performed Tikaani’s national anthem for everyone at the castle, with an accompaniment by Olaf, the snowman whom Elsa had created three years ago with her magical ice powers, on a carrot-nose flute. So far, though, none of Anna’s efforts had worked.
But that was going to change today.
Or so she had planned.
Still peering through the window, Anna frowned as even more villagers in brightly colored shawls and jackets entered through the castle gates and hurried to join the crowd around Elsa.
Anna had been racking her mind all week and had finally decided that the perfect time would be this morning, during their last scheduled sisterly ride through the woods before Elsa’s departure. Anna knew that Elsa found the quiet of the forest peaceful, and she hoped that it would lead to the perfect moment to ask Elsa if she could go on the grand tour with her. A ride was also a good opportunity to prove that Anna could be a useful traveling companion. That she was helpful and wouldn’t get in the way. But that was part of the trouble. Elsa didn’t seem to need any help.
Though Elsa had only been crowned queen three years before, Anna already knew her older sister would be remembered as one of the great rulers of Arendelle, like the ones who appeared on the tapestry that hung across from Anna’s bed. Her sister appeared to always have everything under control—even her magical powers—with a regal presence that all respected. Whenever Elsa listened to Anna, she made Anna feel special and important, and at twenty-four years old, Elsa carried herself the same way she seemed to do everything: effortlessly.
“It’s been like that since she got here,” Kristoff said, coming to stand next to Anna and look out the stables’ window. “Which,” he said, giving her a teasing look, “was half an hour ago.”
Anna made a face. “I know, I know—I overslept…again.” She needed to find some way to pull Elsa out of the crowd for their horseback ride. Before Elsa left her.
Something tugged on Anna’s foot, and she looked down to see that the tiny gray kitten had returned, determined, it seemed, to catch those devious laces.
“Hey, Kristoff?” Anna said slowly, still watching the persistent kitten, only the size her palm, take on her large boot. “I think I have an idea. Do you have a minute?”
“For you?” Kristoff winked. “Always.”
Anna grinned as she wrenched the kitten off her laces and placed it into Kristoff’s arms. “Perfect! So, here’s the plan….”
A few minutes later, Anna left the stables and hurried out to the friendly crowd in the courtyard. As she got closer, she could hear their questions piling up all around Elsa.
“Your Majesty, the chimney in our forge has cracks, and I’m worried it won’t be mended in time for the winter,” called Ada Diaz, a woman with curly brown hair standing next to her wife, Tuva Diaz, who had even curlier brown hair. They were the best blacksmiths on the continent and were known for making the luckiest horseshoes, though it seemed even an abundance of lucky horseshoes weren’t as helpful as their queen’s collected wisdom.
“I was here first,” another familiar-looking villager sniped at Ada before turning in Elsa’s direction and bowing. “Your Majesty, you promised that the rocks in my garden would be removed by the beginning of autumn, and look—” He held up a red oak leaf. “It’s autumn!”
“Ah-hem,” yet another said. “The Village Crown is waiting for you to announce who the judges will be for the harvest festival this year, Your Majesty. Do you have the names?” Though Anna couldn’t see this particular person in the crowd, she knew, just by hearing his voice and grating, know-it-all cough, that it was Wael, the self-proclaimed reporter for the village, whose slick black hair always matched his ink-stained hands.
Sidling toward Elsa, Anna counted down silently. Three…two…one…Then she signaled for Kristoff.
“Oh, my goodness, Sven!” Kristoff proclaimed loudly from the stables’ entrance. “Look at these adorable kittens!”
“They’re cuter than you!” he said in Sven’s voice.
And during the brief second that everyone in the crowd turned to look at the kittens frolicking in the far corner of the courtyard, Anna darted into the throng, grabbed Elsa’s hand, and pulled her around the back of the stables and inside.