“But they could have made the mist,” I pushed. “Or asked the elements to do it, right?”
“Perhaps. Though for what gain I am not sure. As far as we can tell, they were trapped inside as well.” Peterssen sighed. “I promise, Your Highness, we will put our best men on this. To try to answer these questions and find a way through the mist. But for now, there’s a more pressing issue at hand.”
“What’s that?”
He gave me a solemn look. “The king is dead. And you, Your Highness, are his only son…and therefore heir to the throne of Arendelle.”
Horror shot through me. Of course, on some level I knew this, deep down. But to hear it spoken aloud…
“I’m too young to be king!” I blurted out before I could stop myself. I took a deep breath, trying to focus, or at least appear focused on the outside. This time when I spoke, I hoped I came off as calm. “I’m fourteen. I’m not prepared to rule a kingdom.”
Peterssen laid a gentle but firm hand on my arm. “Perhaps not yet,” he agreed. “Your father knew his death would come someday and stated that if you were not yet of age when it came to pass, I would serve as regent to the kingdom in your stead. Of course, I would not act without your approval,” he added quickly. “But if you trust me, I will do my best to keep Arendelle in peace and prosperity until you come of age.”
Relief flooded through me. This was exactly what I needed to hear. Someone besides me was still in charge.
“Thank goodness,” I murmured under my breath. The ache in my head had returned with a vengeance, now accompanied by the bone-deep thrum of loss, and all I wanted was to close my eyes.
“We can talk more when you’re fully healed,” Peterssen declared, looking at me with sympathy. “For now, do not worry about a thing.”
I began to sink back into my pillow, more than willing to let sleep overtake my aching bones and heart, when a sudden thought came to me. “How did I get out of the forest?” I asked. “I don’t remember.” I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to recall the events of that day. I remembered the fighting. Being knocked over by the wind. Hitting my head against a rock. The darkness…
To my surprise, Peterssen didn’t answer at first. Then he shrugged. “We don’t actually know,” he admitted. “The soldiers lost track of you during the fighting. But you were found lying in one of their wagons just before the mist rolled in. You were hurt. Bleeding. Unconscious. Perhaps you crawled in there yourself and then passed out?” But his voice sounded doubtful, as if he didn’t really believe it.
Neither did I.
A voice rose from the deep recesses of my mind. The most beautiful voice I’d ever heard, singing a pure, haunting, desperate song that still rang in my ears. I remembered hearing it back in the forest as I struggled to gain consciousness. Then the feeling of being lifted, but not by human hands. And suddenly I was floating….
More magic? But no. There was a face. Someone had helped me get to that wagon. But who? Try as I might, I couldn’t pull the face from the darkness of my mind. It was another blur, lost in the chaos of that day.
There was a knock at the door. Peterssen gestured for Kai to answer it. Gerda, the family steward, stood on the other side, wringing her hands nervously. “Is the prince ready?” she asked. “The people are waiting outside.”
I frowned. “Waiting for what?”
“For you to address them, of course, Your Highness,” Gerda sputtered. She turned accusingly to Kai. “Didn’t you tell him? They’re all out there. They’re worried. They need to see he’s all right.”
Peterssen sighed. He turned to Kai and Gerda. “Leave us,” he commanded. “I will see to it myself that His Highness is ready to address his subjects.”
Gerda responded with an unhappy snort, as if this wasn’t how things were supposed to be done, but thankfully exited the room, followed by Kai. Peterssen walked over and closed the door behind them, then turned back to me.
“What do I have to do?” I asked. My head was still pounding. I felt as if I was going to be sick.
“The people must see you,” Peterssen said. “They are scared. They lost loved ones. They lost their king. They must gaze upon their prince now. See their country’s future with their own eyes.”
I stared at him in horror. “No! I can’t do that. Not now. Make them wait!”
“They’ve waited three days already. It is time.”
“Please,” I said, trying my best not to beg. “It’s too soon.”
Peterssen’s face softened. He knelt down before me, taking my hand in his own. “Sometimes a king doesn’t have the luxury of grief,” he explained slowly. “He must put his people’s feelings before his own. When you go out there, you must stand taller than you are. Act braver than you feel. Show them, through every move you make, every word you say, that they have nothing to fear.” He gave me a sympathetic look. “You must show them you are not afraid.”
“Even when I am,” I said, looking at the ground.
“You would be a fool not to be,” Peterssen agreed. “But you must not show that fear to your people. Pull it deep inside you. Conceal it in your heart. Don’t feel it. Don’t let it show.” He rose to his feet. “That is what your father did. And his father before him. That is what kings do to protect their people. And this is what you must do now.”
“What if I don’t want to be king?” I blurted out, knowing I sounded like a petulant child, knowing how angry my father would be if he were there to hear me. But I wasn’t ready. I hadn’t asked for this. A week ago, the only thing worrying me was failing my weekly spelling lesson. Now I had the responsibility of an entire kingdom? Real people, with real problems—depending on me.
The panic spiraled; I felt the walls closing in on me. Peterssen gave me a sharp look, understanding but maybe growing a little impatient. If only Lieutenant Mattias were here.
What would he say? What would he tell me to do?
The next right thing.
I swallowed hard, Mattias’s words seeming to echo in my head, as if they’d been spoken aloud. The advice his father had once given him. The advice he’d then passed down to me.
Life will sometimes throw you onto a new path, he would say. And when it does, don’t give up. Take it one step at a time.
I took several deep breaths, pushing the panic down. Then I turned to the lord regent and nodded. “All right,” I said. “I will get dressed, and I will stand before my people. I owe them that much at least.”
Peterssen’s shoulders relaxed. “Very good, Your Highness. It will mean a lot to them. Shall I send the servants in to help you dress?”
“No. I will do it myself. Thank you.”
The regent nodded and headed out of my bedroom, leaving me alone. For a moment I just sat there, my thoughts whirring in my head. Then I walked over to the mirror, staring into it. My eyes were hollow, shadowed by black circles. My skin was pale as milk. My hair had been shorn close to my head, probably so they could sew up my wound.
I don’t look anything like a king, I thought with a grim smirk aimed at my reflection. More like a frightened boy.
I closed my eyes. “Conceal, don’t feel,” I murmured to myself, repeating Peterssen’s words. “Don’t let it show.”