Chapter 4

Nikolaus had been directed to sit in one of the cushioned chairs in throne room's foyer. He was grateful for the seat for his limbs were feeling a little shaky. Maybe he had been too hasty afterall and should have stayed in bed.

It was too late now.

Nikolaus turned his attention to his surroundings: the foyer was medium sized and narrow, like a small gallery; a grandfather clock against the wall across from him announced the passing seconds with each loud tick. The colorful rosemaling pattern painted on the sloped ceiling raised his spirits a little, but did not settle his nerves. If Nikolaus had been sitting any closer to the edge of the chair he would fall off—which he nearly did when a footman announced, "Her Majesty will see you now." He almost wished he had taken Alvir up on his offer to come with him into the throne room, but he was glad he did not. If there was something truly monstrous behind those doors he did not want to his friend involved.

Nikolaus stood in front of the tall double doors. He absently scrutinized the wooden crocuses carved into the panels and traced one with his gloved finger. A sense of déjà-vu swept over him. He was still stunned that his father had awakened from his melancholy long enough to care about the outside world and to send him into it in the name of diplomacy.

"You're the only one I trust, 'Klaus . . ."

Nikolaus took a deep, bracing breath. No matter what met him on the other side of those doors, he was determined to be a credit to his father and honor his trust by being honest with the Queen of Arendelle. As his mother liked to say, "The path to trust always begins with a step of truth".

The doors slowly swung open.

Nikolaus blinked as bright, natural light poured in from the stained-glass window at the end of the room; a marked contrast to the dimness of the foyer.

Nikolaus' gaze moved down from the image of the golden crocus in the window to the throne below it. As Nikolaus' eyes adjusted to the light he perceived—to his great relief—a woman of mere flesh and bone and average height seated there. Her white-gold hair was plaited and pinned around her head, crowned by a delicate gold diadem. Below were two large cerulean eyes, a sloping nose, and a pair of thin cherry red lips. Her satin gown was of a deep teal; a gray fur mantle was draped on her shoulders and swirled around her slippered feet. Nikolaus realized that his jaw had gone slack and quickly shut his mouth with a click of his teeth.

If Hans had lied about the Queen's appearance, he must have lied about the ice sorcery as well. He could not imagine someone so delicate looking could wage such destruction.

The Queen blinked at him and Nikolaus realized she had asked him a question.

"I beg your pardon, Your Majesty, but I did not hear you."

The Queen gave him a patient smile.

"You are an agricultural expert?"

Nikolaus cautiously drew closer to the throne.

"I . . ."

Tell her the truth, Klaus ...

"I am not, Your Majesty."

Elsa straightened in her chair and glanced at the two guards flanking the double doors.

"What is the meaning of this?" Demanded the Queen.

"I do assure you, Your Majesty, I meant to no harm by the subterfuge, but unfortunately it was necessary. I am Prince Nikolaus of the Southern Isles, el—" Nikolaus' feet suddenly went out from under him. He landed hard on his back and banged his head against the floor; he felt chill seeping through his jacket.

The floor was literally a sheet of ice.

So it is true . . .

Nikolaus tried to scramble to his feet but the slick surface sent him sprawling again. Panic curled in his chest. When he tried once more he watched with horror as ice snaked up his legs to his arms, encasing him.

I should have lied!

He was trapped. The light-headedness he had experienced earlier intensified with the pressure of the ice now encircling his chest. His teeth began to chatter from shock and cold. Suddenly his whole body was jerked into an upright position. A foot long radius around his feet was solid but beyond that a section of the ice was slightly melted, he was like a raft in the sea. His "raft" went forward and he felt a twinge of the familiar nausea.

The Queen's arms were outstretched, making motions as if she were pulling in a fishing net. Nikolaus was stopped at the foot of the dais. The Queen literally and figuratively looked down on him, her blue eyes bright with anger and indignation.

"The gall of the Southern Isles is beyond endurance! How dare you trespass on my sovereignty! My lack of reply to your king's missives should have been clear enough that Arendelle has cut all ties with his kingdom and has no desire to renew relations whatsoever!"

Nikolaus opened his mouth to try and manage a reply but Queen Elsa was not done.

"'We extend our sincerest regrets to the Princess Ana and assure Your Majesty of our ignorance regarding the reprehensible machinations of our youngest Prince . . .'? I may be a young and inexperienced monarch, but I was not born yesterday. How stupid does the Southern King think I am to expect me to accept that no one in the royal family had the slightest idea of the prince's ambitions? You will not find me so gullible!"

Nikolaus decided to take advantage of the pause in Queen Elsa's tirade and make a reply. He blinked as he tried to focus on her face, but his vision blurred and dimmed then went dark.

"AGH!" Elsa clapped her hands over her mouth. The ice disappeared and the Prince crumpled to the ground. "I'VE KILLED HIM!"

The guards rushed forward, followed by more guards who entered the room at the sound of her scream. Elsa felt paralyzed as she watched them inspect the body, her hands still on her mouth, in shock. "Å Gud . . . what have I done?"

Ana came running in from a side door situated near the throne. "Elsa, what's wrong? I heard you scream!" Her sister did not answer but continued to stare at the prone Prince. Ana gasped when she followed her sister's gaze.

"What happened? Who is that?"

"He's alive, my Queen."

Elsa's whole body sagged with relief and, with trembling limbs, she sank down onto the throne.

"Call for the royal physician and lay His Highness in a guest chamber."

"Yes, Your Majesty." The guards carried Nikolaus from the room.

"His Highness?" Ana looked even more perplexed.

"That . . . was one of Prince Hans' brothers . . ."

At first the look Ana gave her sister was incredulous, but it hardened as she moved her gaze to the door the guards had left through. "What? What was he doing here? How did he get in? What does he want?"

Elsa leaned her right arm on the armrest and wedged her thumbnail between her teeth and bit down.

"Elsa?"

The Queen removed her thumb and rested her forehead in her hand.

"I don't know . . . he got in by claiming to be an expert in agriculture—or botany, or something like that . . . I don't know."

"How did you find out who he really was? He doesn't seem to particularly resemble that jerk . . ."

"He told me."

"He told you?" Ana's expression softened. "Then maybe he's a good guy— I mean, he snuck into Arendelle, which was totally wrong—but he was upfront with you, and you're the one he would need to fool the most."

Elsa rubbed her face with both hands. "I suppose." She rose to her feet. "But I don't want to let my guard down just yet."

Ana vigorously shook her head, "No, of course not." She followed her sister from the hall through the side door, and back towards the study.

"You should get going, Ana, while you still have the light."

Ana paused at the study door. "Will you be okay?"

Elsa gave her sister a wry grin. "I'll be fine. I've more than enough councilors to advise me. You need to find Kristoff and bring him home."

Ana looked torn again. She walked up to her sister who had been staring at her own hands with a troubled expression. Ana saw that they were trembling. "Are you sure?" She asked softly, covering them with her own. They were ice cold.

"Yes."

"Don't go back to the old Elsa who was afraid of herself. Please."

"I won't."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Ana stuck out her little finger. "Pinkie-swear?"

Elsa rolled her eyes but grinned and hooked her finger with Ana's.

"Yes, yes, pinkie-swear. Now go!"

Ana felt more relaxed. She rolled up the map, which was marked up with circles and lines. She had taken her sister's advice and planned routes to the places she thought Kristoff would be.

Elsa oversaw the packing of the caravan. It was the same bowtop caravan that she and Ana used to ride in when their parents took them on holiday on weeklong nature excursions. It was brightly painted yellow and green with red and yellow rosemaling patterns on the door. Elsa insisted Ana and Olaf allow Marshmallow to accompany them, at least a smaller version that could fit on the driver's seat.

Elsa walked into her room after seeing them off. She opened the bottom drawer of her bureau and rooted around a moment before she found the box she was looking for.

Elsa slowly drew on the black velveteen gloves she had thought to have put away forever and sighed as a familiar weight bowed her shoulders.

"I'm sorry, Ana . . . just for a little while."