He trailed off, his gaze going back to the mist. A look of longing came over his face. And suddenly I was struck by the fact that I was not the only one who had lost people that day. Agnarr had lost his father. And likely others, too.
“Do you miss him?” I asked. “Your father.”
He didn’t answer at first, still staring into the swirling gray fog. Then he gave a long sigh. “My father and I had a…complicated…relationship. We fought that day at the dam. He was angry at me for wandering off to explore. He said I was acting like a child, not a prince.” He scowled. “He scolded me in front of everyone—all the soldiers and shield-maidens. I was embarrassed. Angry, too. I’ve been angry with him for a long time. It was like nothing I ever did was good enough for him. That he wished he had a better son.” He gulped a breath, like he was about to say something he wasn’t certain should be said out loud. “The truth is, as much as I miss him, I think I’m still pretty angry with him now.”
He dropped his gaze to his hands. My heart panged at the conflicting emotions I saw on his face. When he looked up at me again, his eyes were rimmed with unshed tears. “But I feel guilty, too. If we hadn’t fought that day, I would have been by his side when it all happened. Maybe I could have helped. Maybe I could have saved him.” His voice broke. “Maybe he wouldn’t be dead.”
I nodded slowly, not trusting my voice to speak. I thought about my own last day in the forest. Yelana calling me to my lessons. Had I listened to her, I would never have discovered Agnarr. I would not be here, now, wrapped in his father’s cloak, his warm shoulder pressed against mine.
I sighed resignedly. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t regret what I had done. And I knew, in my heart, I would have done it anyway, even knowing the cost. I did not deserve to be locked away from everyone I loved. But Agnarr did not deserve to die alone on the forest floor because he’d had a fight with his father. Whatever happened that day to anger the spirits and cause all of this, it was not his fault. Nor was it mine. And while we might be on different sides of this fight, we had both lost so much. Our friends. Our family. Our place in the world. In an odd way we were more alike than different.
“Let’s make a pact,” he declared. “We’ll come back here twice a year. Every spring and autumn,” he added. “We’ll travel out here and we’ll check the mist. Maybe it’ll start to fade gradually. Maybe we’ll start finding weak spots. Maybe we’ll eventually find a place we can push through.” His eyes shone as he spoke, and I found myself getting swept up in his hope, however naive. The mist parting. Us stepping through.
Our families, our friends, greeting us on the other side.
Instinctively, I reached out, clasping his hand in my own and squeezing it tight. He turned to look at me, his eyes sparkling.
“So, is that a yes?” he asked. “We’ll return in six months?”
I nodded solemnly. “Six months,” I agreed, before shivering again. I laughed. “Though next time I’m bringing a much warmer coat.”
“And I’m bringing chocolate,” Agnarr added with a mischievous grin. “A lot of chocolate.”
And just like that, I found my very first friend on the other side of the mist.
“AND SO, IT BEGINS! OUR EIGHTH BIANNUAL trek to the glorious, yet still stubbornly mist-bound Enchanted Forest!” I said as I jumped into the wagon beside Agnarr.
He flicked the reins from the driver’s seat and the two horses dutifully sprang into action, the wagon lurching in their wake before I was properly seated. I squealed in protest, grabbing the prince’s arm to prevent myself from tumbling off altogether.
“Someone’s in a hurry,” I teased after regaining my balance. I shoved him playfully in the other direction, to give him a taste of his own medicine.
“I’m just relieved to finally be on our way!” he declared. “We’re three weeks late this spring, you know!”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Your Majesty,” I retorted, rolling my eyes. “Some of us have to work, you know. We can’t just drop everything to traipse off to enchanted forests willy-nilly.”
About a year ago, I’d started apprenticing under an inventor named Johan, who was working to find a way to harness wind power in order to create a natural fuel source for grain mills and water pumps. It was fascinating work, and it turned out I was good at it, too. After all, I did know something about the power of wind.
The past few weeks we’d had terrific weather conditions brought about by an unexpected late spring storm that blew gales of glorious wind into our fjord, so when I wasn’t continuing my studies under the close and demanding eye of Miss Larsen at the castle, I’d been working every spare moment. It hadn’t been easy to find time to get away.
Agnarr gave me a mock offended look. “I work hard, too, you know,” he reminded me. “Arendelle does not just rule itself.”
“I know, I know,” I assured him, giving him a comforting pat. “Heavy is the head that wears the crown.”
Even though Lord Peterssen was still acting as regent for the next three years—until Agnarr would assume the throne—the young prince had a ton of responsibilities to his kingdom. And they seemingly grew more and more each day. Agnarr sat in on all the council meetings where they discussed state affairs, and listened to petitions from the people of Arendelle every week. He was always patient, listening carefully, trying to come up with reasonable solutions. And the people loved him for that. I’d constantly hear them singing the praises of the fair-minded, rational, and intelligent soon-to-be king as I walked through town. It warmed my heart to know he was such a beloved ruler even before officially taking the throne. From what I’d gathered, his father had been respected—feared, even—but the people had never truly warmed to him the way they seemed to have already warmed to Agnarr.
Agnarr reached into his satchel, pulling out a chunk of chocolate and snapping it in two. He kept one, handing the larger half to me. I smiled as I bit into the sweetness, savoring the rich taste on my tongue. One of my favorite things about Arendelle—the chocolate.
That, and all the books at my disposal, thanks to the castle library. Even four years into our shared lessons, I never tired of exploring the dusty shelves and seeing what new adventures I could find.
As the wagon rolled across the bridge and out of the village, then started up into the hills, I reached into my own satchel, pulling out the book I’d been reading. Agnarr rolled his eyes.
“I’m boring you already, huh? And here we’ve barely left town.”
My eyes sparkled as I cracked open the book. “Nothing personal. I’m just at a really good part.”
“Oh, fine,” he said, turning back to the horses. “Guess I’ll have to entertain myself.” He cleared his throat and broke out into a loud, bellowing, and really terrible rendition of a popular Arendellian song:
“I smell that reindeer pee, blowing through the fjord.
Iduna’s ignoring me, so I’m really bored….”
Urgh. I shook my head, dropping my book to plug my fingers in my ears. “Seriously?”
“What?” he asked, shooting me an all-too-innocent look. “You don’t like my singing?”