Dangerous Secrets

by Mari Mancusi

  Iduna. I stole a glance at the buffet. But she wasn’t there anymore. I scanned the room, frantic. Had she run out, finding it too hard to watch me in the arms of someone else? I’d told her I didn’t want to do this tonight. But she had insisted, telling me she’d be fine. That it was for the best. I should at least meet the girl, give her a chance. “Who knows, maybe she’ll be really nice!” Iduna had said. “At the very least she’ll be a better dance partner than me.”

  Suddenly I spotted her, dancing on the other side of the ballroom with a partner who I recognized as a few years older than her. Some random noble’s son I barely knew. She was leading the dance, twirling him around as if he were the lady and she were the man. He was laughing heartily and her eyes twinkled with mischief.

  Suddenly I realized what they were doing. It was the “reindeer who had to pee really badly but was stuck inside a fancy ballroom” dance! Our dance!

  She’d taught it to a stranger. My stomach filled with lead.

  “Well, that’s certainly an interesting dance.”

  Startled, I turned back to my own dance partner. Runa had noticed me watching Iduna and the young man and had misinterpreted my expression of longing as one of disdain. I opened my mouth, wanting to tell her Iduna could dance circles around anyone here—and was it a crime, suddenly, to want to have fun?

  But in the end, I just nodded and smiled thinly. I had to be polite.

  Conceal, don’t feel….

  Her expression faltered. “Is…something wrong, Your Majesty?” she asked.

  “No.” I swallowed hard. “It’s nothing. It’s just…” My mind whirled for an acceptable excuse. “Everyone’s watching us,” I finally confided in a low voice.

  She looked around, her green eyes sparkling. “It seems you are right,” she whispered mischievously. “Perhaps then we should give them a show!”

  As though on cue, the band struck up a lively tune. I twirled Runa around, trying to play the good partner. Her skirts swirled gaily and her mouth lifted into a happy smile as she allowed me to spin her, dip her, then pull her back in. She was the perfect dancer, her steps pretty and poised, not a hair out of place.

  She would never step on anyone’s toes, never dance like a reindeer who had to pee.

  “Shall we get a drink?” I asked her as soon as the song ended. Any excuse to get off the dance floor.

  “That would be lovely, Your Majesty.”

  “You don’t have to call me that,” I told her as we headed over to the buffet. “Agnarr is just fine.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, blushing prettily. “Agnarr. You can call me Runa.”

  “Runa,” I repeated, then smiled at her. “Let’s get that drink.”

  We found Lord Peterssen and King Nicholas at the table, filling their glasses. When they saw us together, they beamed in tandem.

  “Ah, Prince Agnarr. Princess Runa,” Peterssen greeted us. “How was your dance?”

  “It was lovely, sir,” Runa gushed before I could reply. “You have such a beautiful ballroom here in Arendelle. And such a lovely castle, too. It puts our little manor house back home to shame.”

  “Castles! Bah! But you should see our military barracks,” her father interrupted, looking a little annoyed. “Far more useful than some silly ballroom. No offense, of course.”

  There was a hardness to his voice. I was fairly sure he had meant offense. But I nodded politely anyway. The perfectly poised prince.

  “Well, we’re still working on building our military back up,” Peterssen replied. “We lost so many good soldiers at the Battle of the Dam.”

  “Ah, yes! Such an unfortunate event!” the king of Vassar boomed. He made a great show of looking around the ballroom before speaking again, this time with a lowered voice. “Also, I heard a rumor that you’ve experienced multiple violent incidents around town recently.” He shook his head, as if very disturbed by this fact. “Why, I was even told that up until today you’ve had the castle gates closed to protect your poor young prince here.” He gave me a concerned look, but his eyes looked hungry for information.

  Peterssen stiffened. “We have taken precautions, yes. But I am confident we have matters under control.”

  “Of course you do,” agreed the king. “But then—who wants to live in fear of their lives? You must root out these traitors and nip this violence in the bud. Otherwise your kingdom will become ripe for takeover.”

  “We’re doing just fine,” I broke in brusquely, starting to get a little angry. We had hit a rough patch, surely, just as every kingdom did from time to time. But we were far from vulnerable.

  Weren’t we?

  “As I mentioned before, we pride ourselves on our excellent military,” the king added. “And if our kingdoms were to be united, well, we would certainly step in when our new family needed us.” He gave me, then Runa a meaningful look. The picture of discretion, surely.

  I waited for Peterssen to argue, but instead, he surprised me by nodding.

  “Agreed,” he said. “Our two kingdoms would complement one another nicely. You have the military. We have the port. And with no threats to our trade routes, both kingdoms would prosper.”

  “And these two would make some handsome babies,” the king chortled. “Eh, Peterssen?”

  I nearly spit out my drink. I needed to get away from here.

  It was then that I spotted Iduna, standing by the hot chocolate bowl, filling her cup with a ladle. Or, more precisely, missing the cup completely and coating her arm in chocolate as she observed us in dismay, clearly having overheard everything. Our eyes locked and I tried to send her an impish look, like we were both in on the secret that this was all a farce, but she didn’t smile back. Instead, her lips flattened. She gave me the most courteous nod—the kind you’d give to a complete stranger—then lifted her chin high.

  It was then that she noticed her arm was getting a chocolate drizzle. She dropped the ladle back into the bowl as though it had burned her, accidentally splashing several ladies standing nearby. They gasped in dismay as big brown splotches of chocolate speckled their fancy gowns. Iduna stared at them, horrified, then fled the room, dripping a trail of liquid chocolate in her wake. The ladies clucked their tongues, scandalized. Several of the men started to laugh.

  “What on earth?” Runa began. But I had already untangled myself from her arm.

  “Excuse me,” I said. “I need to…I mean, I…I’ll be back!”

  “Agnarr!” Behind Peterssen’s jovial tone, there was steel. “Where are you going?”

  I didn’t answer. Instead, I ran from the Great Hall, following the trail of chocolate.

  IT WASN’T EASY TO CLIMB A TREE IN A BALL GOWN.

  But then, that was my fault, I thought as I knotted the dress to free my legs, then swung myself up into the tree, to hide in the thick canopy of leaves. I was the one who had agreed to put on a ball gown, even if it was at Gerda’s urging. To attend a ball I had no business attending in the first place.

  I closed my eyes, trying to slow my racing heart. I’d known watching Agnarr move on was going to be hard, but I’d told myself it would be good for me. It had started out so well, too, with recruiting one of the other guests to dance with me while Agnarr entertained the princess. I felt strong and confident out on the dance floor, forcing myself to have fun and proving to myself that I could get past him—get past all of this.

  But then I got a better glimpse of the girl in question. The beautiful, graceful, perfect girl who looked exactly like what a princess should be—at least according to any Arendellian storybook. Regal, proper, dainty. Why, I bet she’d never climbed a tree in her life! And the way she danced! She was fluid, effortless, somehow managing to be both relaxed and precise in her movements at the same time.

  But still, I’d managed to keep it together until I’d overheard that king, talking about babies. Runa and Agnarr’s future babies. And suddenly my mind flashed back to the trolls talking about our daughters. I hadn’t realized how much I’d hel
d on to that idea until that very moment. The idea of two perfect little girls. Mine and Agnarr’s.

  But they wouldn’t be mine. They would be hers.

  It was too much.

  Now here I was, covered in sticky chocolate, having embarrassed myself in front of a crowd of upper-class Arendellians, hiding in a tree, while the love of my life was inside, dancing the night away with his perfect princess. Yes, I was the one who had told him to do it. But I hadn’t realized how hard it would be for me when he did.

  What was I going to do? This was beyond torture. And it would only get worse. Agnarr might marry Runa. Or he might entertain a dozen girls at a dozen balls before he made his decision. But eventually he’d have to pick someone.

  And it couldn’t be me.

  “I wish I’d never met you,” I whispered, anger rising inside me, my only defense against my anguish and fear. “I wish I’d been trapped in the mist like everyone else.”

  The tears came then. Big, fat tears, soon followed by loud choking sobs. An ugly cry, not like the dainty princess cry Runa probably had when something didn’t go her way. Though what had ever not gone her way? This was the real thing—a stuffy-nosed, blotchy-faced, swollen-eyed kind of cry. My heart had been broken into a million pieces, then laid out on the dance floor to be stomped on over and over again.

  “There you are!”

  I looked down, startled. Agnarr had poked his head through the foliage, his eyes locking on me. A moment later, he boosted himself into the tree, crawling over to where I sat. I tried to hide my tearstained face, but it was no use. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a silk handkerchief. I blew my nose loudly, giving up on appearances. I was gross and snotty and covered in chocolate. But that was who I was.

  “Iduna, why are you crying?” Agnarr asked, peering at me in the inky darkness. “What can I do to cheer you up?” A wicked grin spread over his face. “Maybe some more chocolate?” He nudged my shoulder with his.

  I smiled despite myself and held out my dessert-covered arm. “I think I’ve had my fill of chocolate. Seeing as I’ve basically bathed in it tonight.”

  He smiled gently, then took my hand in his, dragging his finger down my arm. I tried not to shiver at the delicious feeling of his light touch against my skin. It had been too long since I’d felt his hands on my body, and I hadn’t realized how much I missed them. I watched, breathless, as he brought his finger slowly to his mouth, making a great show of licking the chocolate away.

  “Delicious,” he whispered, his eyes never leaving mine. And suddenly I got the feeling he wasn’t talking about chocolate anymore.

  “Don’t,” I protested, but it came out sounding weak, even to me. “I can’t.”

  His eyes turned ultraserious. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Oh, Iduna, you have no idea how sorry I am.”

  “You have nothing to be sorry about, Your Majesty.”

  “That’s not true and you know it! And don’t call me that. It just doesn’t seem right coming from you. I shouldn’t have let them do this. I should have refused to go to the ball. To meet that girl. To dance with her.”

  “She was a lovely dancer.”

  “Who cares? She could be the best dancer in the world. She isn’t you.”

  I stopped breathing at the fierceness I heard in his voice. The look on his face. The desperation in his eyes. He was going to break me. Right here, right now, in our favorite tree. But worse, if we kept doing this, I would break him, too.

  No. I had to be strong.

  “Please stop,” I begged. “I can’t. We can’t. You know we can’t.”

  He grabbed my hands, squeezing them so hard I was half afraid he’d break my bones. “We can,” he whispered. “We have to. I can’t be without you, Iduna.”

  “You have to be, Agnarr. It’s for the good of the realm. You know that. We can’t be selfish. Your people need a king and queen.”

  “Doesn’t it matter at all what I need?” he asked in a quiet voice.

  I had no answer. Instead, I watched as he rummaged through his satchel and produced a strange half-carved chunk of wood that mildly resembled a spoon. I frowned, puzzled.

  He gave me a grave look. “It’s a love spoon,” he said. “Or…it will be, anyway.”

  Oh.

  I tried to breathe, but it proved almost impossible to pull any air into my lungs. A love spoon. I knew what those were. I’d seen the fishmonger give one to the butcher. A love spoon was a traditional Arendellian gift for those wishing to join in marriage.

  “It’s for you,” he said in almost a whisper. “It can only ever be for you.”

  It was too much. The desperate, hopeful look in his eyes was going to be my undoing. Why can’t you see? I wanted to scream at him. Why can’t you understand this can’t happen?

  Because you lied to him from the start, a bitter voice deep inside reminded me. He has no idea who you really are.

  I could tell him now. But I knew deep down in my heart it wouldn’t change a thing. He wouldn’t care that I had kept a secret. He wouldn’t care that I had come from another place, even the home of Arendelle’s supposed enemy. That I wasn’t the Iduna he thought he knew and loved.

  Because he loved me. The real me. All of me.

  And with that love he would destroy a kingdom. Cause war. Destruction. Death.

  No. I couldn’t be that selfish. I wouldn’t be.

  I squared my shoulders. Lifted my chin. Forced a cold look to my face.

  Conceal, don’t feel.

  He was strong. But I had to be stronger. Strong enough to put an end to this. “Agnarr, you need to stop this. Now.” The harshness I heard in my voice was devastating even to me. But to see his face…

  “Iduna, come on!” He tried to reach for me, but I pulled away. Only a few inches, and yet it was the hardest move I’d ever had to make.

  “You should go back to the party.” My voice was ice. “You should apologize to that poor girl.”

  “But—”

  “Listen to me, Agnarr. We can’t be around each other and just be friends. That’s become clear to me after tonight.” I softened my voice a little to deliver the next blow. “So I’ve decided that I am leaving Arendelle tomorrow, and you will never see me again.” Unshed tears pulsed behind my eyelids, but I willed them away. “It is for the best.”

  He dropped the spoon. It clattered against the tree’s branches as it fell, eventually hitting the ground with a whisper. Such a little noise. But it echoed in my ears like a thunderclap. And something inside me felt as if it had died forever.

  Agnarr opened his mouth to speak. But I never got a chance to hear his words. For at that moment there was a thundering boom in the distance. Followed by a flash of white light.

  We looked at each other, confused. Then we turned back toward the castle.

  And saw the smoke.

  THERE WAS CHAOS EVERYWHERE WHEN WE ran back inside the castle. Well-dressed guests, huddling together in the Great Hall, talking in urgent voices. It was hard, at first, to figure out what had happened. I smelled smoke but saw no fire.

  “There you are!” Peterssen and a group of guards surrounded Iduna and me. The regent hugged me fiercely. “We thought they had you!”

  “Who? What happened?” I asked.

  King Nicholas answered, looking quite rattled. “There was an explosion in the Great Hall.”

  “An explosion?”

  “By the dessert table. It was a miracle no one was hurt. Evidently someone had spilled chocolate on the floor earlier, so everyone was staying clear of the area until it could be wiped up.”

  At my side, Iduna gave a small squeak.

  “I had men posted outside,” added King Nicholas. “They informed me they saw a lone figure, dressed in black and wearing a sun mask, fleeing the castle, right before the explosion. They tried to follow him, but he slipped away into the shadows. Almost as if by magic.”

  I frowned, my mind racing. More attacks. This one far more brazen than the others. The culprit ha
d snuck into the castle. Maybe disguised as one of the guests. Or maybe it was one of the guests.

  “Do not worry, Your Grace,” King Nicholas added, seeing the look on my face. “I have assigned men to posts around your castle. Others are sweeping each room for any additional incendiary devices. We will not stop until we can be sure your kingdom is safe.”

  I knew the right thing to do was express enthusiastic gratitude for the king’s efforts, but I couldn’t find the words. All I could think of was that there could be someone among us at this very moment who was a traitor to the kingdom.

  “Thank you,” Peterssen cut in smoothly, casting me a sharp glance. “That is very generous of you.” He turned to me. “Agnarr, why don’t you go check on Runa?” he said pointedly. “She seemed a bit shaken up by the sudden turn of events. I led her to the sitting room to spend some time in the quiet.” He addressed Iduna. “Why don’t you go see how you might help inside the Great Hall.” His firm tone did not pose this as a choice.

  Reluctantly, I left Iduna to her task, heading up the stairs to the sitting room. We’d have to deal with all that had transpired between us later; first the people needed our help. The next day I could go to Peterssen and state my case. Tell him all the reasons I needed to marry Iduna. And if he didn’t want Iduna as my queen? Well, maybe I didn’t want to be king.

  “Your Majesty!” Runa cried, rising from her seat as I entered the sitting room. “You’re all right!”

  “Yes. I’m fine. I was…outside the castle when it happened,” I finished lamely. “And, uh…how are you? Are you all right?”

  “Well, to be honest, I’m still a little shook up,” she admitted. “I’d been standing quite close to the desserts. It was lucky my father had called me for a dance just before it happened.”