Even Kristoff and the others who hadn’t been under the Nattmara’s spell for all that long seemed to remember events differently. He recollected some of what had happened, but wasn’t able to parse out which memories had been real and which had been simply figments of his nightmare.
“Extra, extra, read all about it! Get your copy of the Village Crown!”
Anna looked over to see Wael selling his newspaper. Already, he had a crowd of villagers gathered. Many didn’t bother to wait before spreading open the paper and reading the day’s events right then and there. She caught a glimpse of the current headline: “More Than Royal: Sisters Are True Friends of the Kingdom.” Anna grinned.
Entering the castle, she took the steps three at a time, the letter she had picked up clutched in her fingers. She went to Elsa’s council chambers and knocked. Six staccato raps followed by two spaced-out ones. Do you want to build a snowman?
“Come in!” Elsa’s voice floated through the door.
So much had changed in the past month—at least, that’s how it felt to Anna, whose heart was much lighter than it had been in a long time. But she knew things hadn’t really changed for Elsa. After all, she still had to face the stress of leading the kingdom, and somehow, the stacks of papers seemed higher than ever before. As Anna entered the council chambers, she saw that Elsa, as always, was leaning over her table, her long quill scratching away at the reams of parchment.
Elsa remembered the whole thing, as did Anna. Anna suspected it was because her sister had been the reason the Nattmara came to Arendelle in the first place. It had been with both of them for much, much longer than a few nightmarish days. It had been with them for practically their entire lives, and was not easily forgotten.
Anna knew, too, that if Gerda or one of the royal handlers reached into the secret pocket sewn into the left sleeve of Elsa’s dress, they would find an ice crystal, perfect in its clarity except for the single grain of black sand at its center. Elsa would keep it with her always, close to her heart, acknowledging it, allowing her fear to motivate her, but not letting it take control.
“Elsa,” Anna said, flapping the letter under Elsa’s nose until her sister looked up from her paperwork. “Guess what I got!”
Elsa propped her chin on her hand and smiled. “A letter. I can see it in your hand.”
Anna rolled her eyes. “Yes, okay, but guess from whom I got it!” But she didn’t bother to wait for Elsa’s guess and plopped it down onto the table.
“Ugh, stop adding to my piles! Wait a second,” she said as she read the address. “It’s from Sorenson?”
Anna smiled. “It is! He wants to come visit. He says that he had a dream about us, and that he thought Mother would have liked for us to meet.”
Anna liked the grumpy old man and was pleased he hadn’t come to any lasting damage after the Nattmara attack, though she still felt bad that his life’s work had been ruined on the observation deck of his tower. She was looking forward to showing him the library in the castle, as well as the even bigger one down in the village. And she was eager to find out what he would have to teach her about the stars and about seeking answers in the world around them—and about the secret room. If being Elsa’s sister weren’t a full-time job, Anna thought she might want to become a scientist herself one day.
Elsa smiled. It was a true smile, if also a tired one.
“Are you feeling better?” Anna asked.
“Yes—actually, no,” Elsa said, catching herself. She was trying to be more honest with Anna—and herself—about what she was feeling. “I’ve been distracted of late.”
“Perfect,” Anna said.
Elsa’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Perfect? What do you mean?”
“Because I know exactly how to help. Come with me.” She led Elsa out of the room and into the library.
There, Anna waltzed over to the horse statue and gave the hoof a tug. The bookcase swung open to reveal the secret room, but this time, no dust flew into the air.
She beckoned Elsa inside, and smiled when she heard Elsa’s gasp of delight.
When Elsa had been busy in the council chambers, Anna had been busy herself, prettying up the secret room and making it a fully cozy Elsa hideaway. She’d brought in more lanterns and settled comfy pillows around the floor, and even had the portrait of Aren restored. It now hung prominently on the wall, Revolute shining at its center as a symbol of hope and a reminder of what actually shaped the world.
“I know you’re tired and people keep interrupting you,” Anna said. “You give so much to the kingdom, but you need to take care of yourself, too. This can be a place for you to get away and just be you. Where you can rest and take a quiet moment to yourself, where no one will know where to find you. The past is in here, Elsa, but so is the future. I want you to remember that I will always believe in you.”
“Thank you, Anna.” Elsa turned to give her younger sister a hug. “This is magnificent.”
“And,” Anna said with a cheeky smile, “I’m reinstituting family game night.”
Elsa twisted her lips into a wry smile. “I would like that, but I always have so much work…”
“Sure.” Anna shrugged. “And it’s not going anywhere.”
“Game night…” Elsa said, looking around at the notes, books, and records their parents had collected. Anna had carefully placed Secrets of the Magic Makers in the center of the worktable alongside their father’s sketchbook. Even though it didn’t contain any actual spells, Anna sensed that it was important. After all, every story held some truth.
“Remember how we used play charades with Mother and Father?” Elsa asked.
Anna nodded. “You know,” she said, not sure how exactly to put her feelings into words, “I like this room because I can see a glimpse of who they were. I feel like here maybe they’re not so lost to us after all. Though I still wonder why they never told us about this room. And I wonder what they were looking for. And why Mother visited Sorenson.”
“Maybe we can ask him when he comes to visit,” Elsa said. “But maybe,” she added, fiddling with her sleeve cuff, “they were looking at magic. What must they have thought of my having magic, when no one else does? I mean, I can create these magical, wonderful things.…”
“Could be,” Anna said. “Speaking of your creations, I haven’t seen Olaf all day. Do you know where he is?”
Elsa smiled. “I do. And this time, I have a surprise for you.”
“But it’s not my birthday,” Anna said, all the while running through a catalogue of things she could possibly be getting.
“You’re not the only one who can plan a surprise,” Elsa said with a smile. They dashed up to Anna’s favorite turret, and Elsa led her out onto the little balcony.
“How did you find the time to plan a surprise?” Anna asked.
“There,” Elsa said, pointing in the direction of the open sea. “What do you see?”
Anna squinted. She couldn’t be certain at first, but then…“Elsa!” She gasped. “Those are ships! And they’re flying the royal flags of…Is that Zaria? And that one has the royal flag of Corona! And the third one—that’s the flag of Eldora!”
Elsa nodded. “Exactly right. The grand tour was cancelled, but the dignitaries understood. So much so, that they accepted my invitation to visit Arendelle now that the gates are open. This way, neither one of us has to leave home, where we are both needed.”
Anna’s grin felt so big that her cheeks couldn’t contain it. And as she looked down, watching the villagers meet the arriving visitors, Anna thought she saw a shiver in the shadows, and maybe, just maybe, a flick of a tail. Anna waved down, and she could have sworn that she saw a small Hulder waving at her from the shoulders of a taller one before slipping away again.
There was a slam of the door, and then Anna heard a thumping on the stairs before Kristoff burst onto the balcony, Sven with Olaf on his back following in his wake.
“Sorry!” Kristoff said. “I didn’t mean to be late. I was h
aving an argument with Sven about something I just brought back from the trolls! He’s been funny lately. I keep thinking that he’s trying to tell me something—maybe about a ship?” He shrugged his shoulders. “But as far as I know, Sven’s never been on a ship.”
Sven nudged Kristoff with his antlers while Anna and Elsa exchanged a look of surprise. Other than their small group, the others didn’t seem to remember the Nattmara—but maybe the animals did.
Sven looked better than ever, Anna noticed. His curly reindeer hair was back to a rich brown without any unusual sprinkling of white. The Nattmara hadn’t caused any lasting damage.
In fact, it had taught Anna that Elsa didn’t have to be perfect, just as Anna didn’t have to be perfect. She could make mistakes—and to be honest, she would make mistakes. And that was okay. She had Elsa and Kristoff and Olaf to help her. And the gates were open. And yes, there were still secrets, there was still so much she didn’t know, but finding the answers to those questions would be an adventure…and she would not have to go on the journey alone.
There was nothing to fear.
“Look!” Olaf said, pointing toward a streak of light in the sky. “A chunk of space rock is falling through the atmosphere and burning up!”
“Or,” Elsa said with a smile, “you could just say it’s a falling star.”
“A shooting star,” Kristoff offered as he leaned against the rail and took Anna’s hand in his.
She squeezed it back. “A wishing star,” she said.
But at that moment, standing with her friends, looking up at the brilliant light of the meteor shower arcing over Arendelle, Anna had nothing to wish for at all—because everything she could have wished for was right there beside her.
ANNA DREAMED.
In the darkness, a single ember drifted. It tumbled endlessly through a void until, at last, it tangled in black branches. It pulsed, once, twice, and then, the spark began to lengthen. Like a salamander, the fire spread wide and flames began to crawl, creeping, illuminating an entire wood. First a twig, then a branch, then a tree. A tree, then a forest, then a world. Smoke and white-hot heat wrapped around the trees, twin ribbons that tightened and obscured. That tightened and choked. Screams rose, and the whole forest vanished in a plume of thick smoke, and then…A shift.
Anna dreamed.
Back into the void, and this time, the darkness moved. It slipped and slid, a rough whisper scraping against her ear. The darkness was not dark at all, but a never-ending desert of black sand. Sand filled her ears, her eyes, her nose, her mouth. She waded through, unable to see, unable to breathe, unable to know, and then…A shift.
Anna dreamed.
No longer rough, the sand melted, turning to liquid, growing heavy, and falling in a soft black rain to a great crater, until it brimmed, overflowing. The dark was an ocean now. Each slap of a wave left a swirling froth of white, brilliant against black water. Brilliant against the dripping mane of a midnight horse. The stallion reared from the Dark Sea’s deepest depths, screaming its freedom as it shrugged off the ocean’s weight and galloped across the waves toward her. Its heavy hooves drummed a rhythm that took over her heart, and then it bucked, and it was not Anna whom the horse chased, but Elsa. Its eyes glowed white as it bore down on her sister…
Anna woke up.
Her heart slammed against her chest as though she’d been running, and the questions scrolled through her mind: Was it happening again? Was the nightmare back? Anna felt a bit disoriented. It took her a moment to register that she wasn’t in her own room. She was in their parents’ room. That was right. She and Elsa had fallen asleep together after Anna sang one of their mother’s old lullabies, a favorite about a secret river. Elsa had seemed distracted and pensive during the night’s game of charades, so Anna had sung to bring a bit of lightness back into Elsa’s heart.
Anna stared up at the frothy canopy of the bed, and then glanced away. It looked too much like the white sea-foam that the rippling stallion had spat out as it galloped toward her. A water horse, she realized, reminding her of the statue outside the secret room.
Relief sighed though her. These were just normal nightmares, then. No wolf. The Nattmara was gone. She had nothing to fear. They were just a collection of images from the week’s events, from things around her home. There was no need to be afraid of her dreams, not anymore. And with that thought, Anna’s eyes slowly began to close…
And then they flew open. They had fallen asleep together. But Elsa was not there. Elsa wasn’t leaving Anna behind….She wouldn’t do that again. Right? Anna tried to keep calm. Elsa had probably gotten up extra early to tackle the stacks of papers waiting for her.
A breeze curled through the room, and Anna shivered. At least she knew why she was cold: the balcony door had somehow blown open while they had been asleep. Slipping out of Elsa’s bed, Anna grabbed their mother’s scarf from where Elsa had draped it across an armchair. Wrapping it around her shoulders, Anna stepped toward the balcony doors.
She expected to see what she always saw: the village ensconced in deep blue shadows, only punctured here and there by the orange flames of lanterns in the courtyard directly below. But as she drew closer to the balcony, a strange feeling flitted through her. An unease. A sense. Or, as Olaf might say nowadays, a “gut-wrenching trepidation.” She knew, in the way that maybe only a sister could know, that something was about to change forever. And when Anna stepped out onto the balcony, she saw that it already had.
The night glittered—the air glittered—the world glittered—as a million ice crystals of what looked like frozen rain hung suspended, like diamonds or glass shards that had forgotten gravity existed. Beautiful and sparkling. Fierce and deadly. Each crystal was razor-sharp, and each pointed in the same direction, toward a figure who stood far away, alone in the night.
“Elsa?”
Her sister stood in the twilight, the waves of the Arenfjord behind her. And though it should have been impossible for Elsa to see Anna from such a great distance, Anna saw her sister shift—and lock eyes with her.
A brilliant white light in the distance shattered the darkness, illuminating for a single breath the look of awe on Elsa’s face.
And then the ice crystals began to fall.
Anna flung herself away from the balcony, dashing through the halls and down the stairs. Her feet thudded against the flagstones. Reaching the bottom floor, Anna threw open the castle doors.
She stared at the ice crystals still suspended in front of her. “What?” she asked herself. The ice crystals filled the night with an eerie whistle as they tore through the air, only to end with a shout as they splintered across the cobblestones at her feet, making Anna’s path to Elsa slippery and dangerous. But when was it not? And when had it ever mattered?
Securing their mother’s scarf, she raced out into the streets to find Elsa. The wind tugged at Anna, it howled, and then—the lanterns blew out. Something was wrong. Anna passed villagers peering out of their suddenly dark homes. In the place where Arendelle’s flags always flew strong, they had gone deathly still.
Darkness, once again.
MAGIC EXISTS IN MANY FORMS: in words, in art, and in story. Any magic in this book is thanks to the incredible hard work of many people.
Thank you to my editor, Eric Geron, dream-maker, door-opener, and Arendelle’s ultimate guide. This novel would not exist without his boundless creativity and enthusiasm, careful eye, and willingness to discuss all things Anna and Elsa at any time of the day. Spells might not exist in our world or in Arendelle, but if anyone could speak a spell to make dreams come true, it would definitely be him.
Much gratitude to the directors and producers—the magic makers!—of Frozen and Frozen II, in particular, Jennifer Lee, Peter Del Vecho, and Heather Blodget, whose creativity and insight were instrumental in this tale. Thank you for telling and promoting stories not only about strong girls, but about caring girls, who seek to change the world around them for the better—and do.
A warme
st thank-you to the incredible artistic talents of Mike Giamo, Grace Lee, Winnie Ho, Al Giuliani, and Susan Gerber for the stunning cover and inspirational beauty of Arendelle. Thank you, too, to Heather Knowles for knowing the sisters inside and out, and to Alison Giordano for her help.
Crafting three-dimensional characters is always a challenge, but this challenge was made a thousand times easier by Kristen Bell, Idina Menzel, Jonathan Groff, and Josh Gad, who have each breathed life into their characters with their incredible nuance and heart.
Thank you to my agent, Stephen Barbara, whose support and guidance is practically mythic. To my parents, Marguerite and Zoltan Benko, and my siblings, Gabriella and Matthias, thank you for putting up with princess obsessions for many years and for believing in my wildest dreams. In particular, thank you to my husband, Andrej Ficnar, who has not complained about Frozen playing on repeat throughout the home and who was always patient while I lost myself in a fantastical winter wonderland.
And finally, thank you to the kids and grown-ups around the world who love Anna and Elsa. Because of you, there are more opportunities than ever before to tell tales about princesses saving the day. Thank you for making room for complex heroines in your life and for coming on this journey with them.
Kamilla Benko is the best-selling author of the Unicorn Quest trilogy. As a child, Kamilla built a snowgirl who she hoped would spring to life and become her friend. Instead, her parents told her she was getting a little sister. Fortunately, sisters don’t melt, and they remain best friends today. Originally from Indiana, Kamilla now lives in New York, where she works as a children’s book editor. You can visit her at kamillabenko.com, on Facebook, or on Twitter and Instagram @kkbenko.
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