iv.

It was a packed house on the evening of the performance with audiences clamoring for the Snow Queen and the Illusionist, their chatter and shouting echoing beneath the big top.

Children clambered over each other to get into the front rows, their little hands grasping at the air as the stage hands set up the props for Elsa's performance. Those who had seen it before shrieked and babbled with excitement at the familiar items – a lit candelabra, a large bowl of water, a plain blue cloak – and those who were about to watch it for the first time peered at the same objects with mildly curious looks, and then at their pocket watches.

Hans and Elsa stood together behind the curtain, both outfitted in their best attire for the evening, their eyes locked.

"You remember the plan?" he asked. "I'll come and get you towards the end of my act, and then—"

"Yes, I remember," she said. "You'll lead from there. And I'm not to ask any further about it."

"Good. Now get out there, and make this last one count," he said, looking at her still-gloved hands. "Show them your gift."

She swallowed, and folded them against her chest.

"Hans…"

"What is it?"

"I—" she trailed off, and closed her eyes. "I'm sorry for making you do this," she said at length. "I know you don't want to, and… there's a part of me that doesn't want to go, even though I know I must."

He placed a hand on her shoulder to calm her; when her exhalations softened, he brought it back in front of her, unfurling his fingers to reveal her snowflake pin.

She blinked. "Hans, when did you…?"

He grinned. "Just now. From behind your ear." At her frown, he continued in a more serious way: "You're not 'making' me do anything, Elsa. I agreed to this – to help you – and so I will." He placed the pin in her palm and curled her fingers around it, giving her a small smile. "Of course I wish that I could have your company for a little while longer, but I know I can't keep you here. None of us can."

Her eyes welled with tears, but she swallowed them back, and pinned the snowflake to the side of her long braid. When she looked at him again, she was smiling. "Thank you," she said as she removed her gloves, wiping away any trace of weeping from her cheeks. "I should go, now."

"Yes," he agreed. "You should."

When she opened her mouth to speak again, he placed one hand in front of her lips. "I won't wish you luck," he said. "You don't need it."

Her eyebrow rose, and she took his hand, lowering it to the side. She glanced down for a moment, and then back up at him.

"No. But you do."

He paced backstage, ignoring the looks of suspicion and resentment from the other performers preparing close by, his hands knitted together behind his back.

His heartbeat quickened with each exclamation of the crowd on the other side of the curtain, and as her act drew closer to its end, beads of sweat started to form on his forehead. He wiped them off in the next moment, exhaling; when he heard the last, full cheers from the audience, he finally paused in place at the side of the stage.

She took her last bow with a wide smile, her arms full of bouquets, and slipped behind the curtains as they were pulled to a close, her torso still bowed. When she looked to the side, their eyes met, and they stayed that way for a while as the stagehands moved around them to remove her props from the stage, and replace them with his.

At length, she glanced down at her long gloves in her dress pocket, and took them out, intending to put them back on—but with one shake of Hans's head, she nodded, and placed them on a small table backstage instead.

"Andersen! You're up."

Leif's bark brought them to attention, and they drew closer.

"Well, I… I guess this is it."

"Yes, it is."

"I—this is crazy. I don't even know if it's going to work."

"It will."

"How do you know?"

"I don't. But I believe it will."

"I guess that'll have to do. But…"

"What?"

"I wish I knew what to say."

"You don't have to say anything. Except goodbye."

"Then goodbye, Elsa."

"Goodbye, Hans."

His act proceeded in the usual way, or at least it seemed to, from what she could discern backstage. It sounded as if a few people had left after her performance, having gotten their fill of entertainment for the evening, but not nearly as many as in weeks past.

She did not move from her spot to the side of the curtain, awaiting his further instruction. Not being sure of his plans, her eyes darted from the curtain to the stagehands' glowers, and she swallowed.

As the act entered the middle part, she caught sight of a large, brown wardrobe being wheeled over from the back towards the curtain, with the stagehand wheeling it giving her a long, dark look.

She returned it only for a moment before bringing her attention to the prop, and examined every detail that she could make out in the low lighting: the two great bare doors bereft of any ornamental carvings, the four knobby-looking feet holding it up, and the top jutting out in a harsh rectangle.

And in the same moment as she realized its purpose, the curtains pulled back, and both she and the wardrobe were pulled onstage.

"Ladies and gentlemen—for those of you who were wise enough to stick around for this second act, I have a special surprise for you."

He paused for effect, watching the audience's eyes grow wide. As the curtains pulled apart, he continued: "Please welcome back to the stage, one last time: Elsa, the Snow Queen!"

He took her hand and brought her to the front with him to wild applause and cheers from the crowd, and though she initially wore an expression of surprise, she quickly readopted her stage persona, curtsying with grace. She matched his broad, generous smile for the audience, and looked back at him once she finished her reintroduction with warm cheeks, not a single hair out of place.

At the look, he brought her hand to his lips, and gave it a quick kiss; from the corner of his eye, he watched as the wardrobe was set down in place mid-stage.

Turning back to the audience, he announced: "And now, my friends, I am excited to say that I will be performing a trick never seen here before, in this circus: a disappearing act. And before any of you say anything," he continued at some skeptical looks from the crowd, "this is not the kind you're used to from me, with vanishing doves and hats and other simple objects. No—today, I present to you a most extraordinary feat of magic: one in which I will make our beloved Queen herself disappear before your very eyes!"

Murmurs of disbelief circulated in the audience, and Hans could feel a tremor run through Elsa's hand to his. He squeezed it to reassure her.

"Yes, indeed, my friends: it can be done, and I will show you exactly how it will happen."

He let go of her hand to jump backwards towards the wardrobe, making large, expressive gestures at it and its surroundings as he continued his speech. "Here you will observe a large wardrobe, with two doors and four legs, and – when opened – one that can fit a whole man inside of it. Allow me to demonstrate." He opened the doors, and hopped inside to nods and more murmurs from the crowd.

"Yeah, but what about the back of it?" one audience member shouted.

"Or below! There's probably a trick door underneath," another added.

"Very good," Hans replied, stepping out again. "As you can see," he said, knocking against the wooden backing, "there is no way one could escape through the back, nor through the bottom or the floor beneath." He crouched down and snaked his arm in the small space below the wardrobe, patting it down and pulling dramatically at the floorboards to no avail for comedic effect. "I can guarantee that this wardrobe is of the sturdiest make, with no trickery built in at all." He motioned at Elsa, who stood to the side. "In fact, I am so confident in the strength of this device, that I will have our dearest Queen Elsa test it herself before she assists me with this impossible feat of magic."

Elsa took his hand again with only the slightest millisecond of hesitation, and then proceeded to demonstrate the soundness of the prop as instructed, plastering on a smile for the crowd. "Yes," she said after making all of the expected knocks and pulls, "I can confirm that the Illusionist's claims are true."

"You're just saying that because you two planned the act together," an older man in the crowd heckled them. "You know exactly how this trick works."

Before Hans could make a reply, Elsa interrupted, still smiling as she stepped closer to the crowd. "Actually, sir, I've not the slightest idea of what will happen – just the same as all of you. The Illusionist never shares his secrets, not even with his fellow performers." Her appearance was so vulnerable and genuine in that moment, that even the most skeptical members of the audience softened at her speech.

She turned back to look at Hans as she concluded: "So I, too, am very much looking forward to seeing how this turns out."

Hans's ever-present grin twitched at the remark, but he carried on. "Yes, indeed—I've not told the Snow Queen anything in advance, nor anyone else. And now that she's verified the sturdiness of this simple wardrobe, I shall proceed with pulling off my most daring trick to date. It is so important that you all know I am being truthful with you, in fact," he continued, pulling off his gloves, "that I must remove these gloves as well, to prove that I have nothing to hide." Once pulled off, he tossed them into the crowd to the titters of some of his fawning young female admirers, and he placed one hand behind his back, offering the other to Elsa.

She stared at it for a moment – a long, quiet moment – before placing her ungloved hand in his, her cheeks red as she followed him towards the wardrobe. Once in front of it and facing its already open doors, she allowed Hans to help her inside.

As his figure covered the doorway, he concealed the crowd from her sight, and his face remained the only clear thing to her in the darkness.

She looked at him one last time, and then the doors closed.

Hans secured the doors and knocked against each side of the wardrobe for good measure, concluding with a final peek at the floor beneath it. He motioned for the crowd to quiet down as he stepped away from it, pulling out a short baton from inside of his waistcoat.

With a flick of his wrist, the baton extended to its full length, garnering some excited whispers from the loyal audience members already acquainted with his mannerisms and flourishes. He threw a knowing smirk and a wink at these individuals, who giggled and chuckled in reply.

"On the count of three and a snap of my fingers," he said, "I will reopen these doors, and our beloved Snow Queen will have vanished. Now, ladies and gentlemen—will you assist me with the count?"

The crowd noisily agreed, and he nodded. "Alright, then. Let us begin—one!"

Two!" he shouted in unison with the audience.

A few people preemptively shouted "three!" before him – at which he waggled his finger, tutting, earning some laughter from the audience – and then he made a wide gesture towards the wardrobe, and pointed his baton directly at it.

He took a pause, filling the room with tension, waiting for the hush to fall over the crowd; and at last, he thrust his whole body towards the wardrobe, pressing his bare hands and the baton at the air with great force as he snapped his fingers.

"Three!"

The doors of the wardrobe burst open, and a cold wind swept out from inside of it over the crowd, causing it to shriek and duck down in surprise.

Hans staggered back as well, barely holding onto his baton, and stared with wide eyes as the doors to the wardrobe rattled against their hinges, then slammed back shut again. After a moment, he managed to regain his balance and sweep his hair back into place, patting down his coat and clearing his throat as the crowd continued to shout and shove each other in confusion.

"Good people!" Hans exclaimed, trying to calm them, "fear not! It is all just a part of the act. Look for yourselves." He put his baton back inside of his jacket and walked in slow strides towards the wardrobe, and once in front of it, he sucked in a deep breath.

In one swift pull, he swung the doors open, exhaling as if he had just come up for air after a long spell underwater. As he examined its contents, he stood stock-still; all he could hear was the sound of his beating heart.

At length, he leaped to the side with a broad smile, and the crowd gasped.

Sitting at the bottom of the wardrobe was a small pile of snow, glistening white, with the snowflake Elsa pinned to her hair on top of it. He knelt down until his eyes were level with the pile, and then took some of it out to the audience, letting them touch the snow with their own hands.

"It's real!" one child screamed with delight.

"It's cold," a woman exclaimed, and quickly brushed it off her glove.

"But… where is the Snow Queen?" another child asked, her voice soft and sad.

"She's not really gone, darling," the child's mother shushed her. "It's just a trick."

Hans came to kneel down by the side of the stage in front of which the child stood. She looked down at the snow in her small hands, her eyes welling with tears.

"What is your name, child?" he asked.

"Gerda," she replied through sniffles.

"Do not be sad, dear Gerda, for she has gone back to her country," he said, "back to her great palace of ice, where she skates with angels and bears and reindeer, and holds banquets where they serve nothing but chocolate."

The adults in the crowd around them chuckled at the description, but the child only looked at him with the utmost earnestness. "I would like to go there," she said, and smelled the snow in her hand. "It sounds like great fun."

"It does, doesn't it?" he replied, patting the girl's head. "I think we all would. Perhaps we will, some day."

At her hopeful look, he rose to stand again; as he did, the remaining snow in the wardrobe flew out of it on a gentle wind, scattering over the audience like a snowfall from the sky. The children squealed with joy at the effect, and even the older members of the crowd looked on in wonder as the flakes speckled their heads and shoulders, cheering for Hans's great trick.

"Thank you, thank you, one and all! Enjoy the snowflakes while they fall," he said as he closed his act with a bow. For one last laugh, he craned his head back to catch a snowflake on his tongue, and then waved again as he went offstage, taking the longest exhale he had all day.

When he finally looked up again, he noticed Elsa's gloves where she had left them behind the curtains, and stuffed them in his pockets.

"Nice trick, Andersen," remarked the stagehand who wheeled the wardrobe backstage.

"Hope you can pull it off again," said another. "So wherever you sent her highness, make sure you get her back in time for tomorrow night's encore performance, alright?"

Hans ignored their comments and praise as he stalked back to his dressing room, slipping off his boots, tails, and waistcoat when he got inside. His neck rolled back as he sighed, and with his eyes closed, he pulled out her gloves from his pockets, and laid them atop the table, sitting down in front of his mirror.

He stared at the gloves up close after a moment, and then shook his head and brought them to his lips, burying his face in their creases. Leaning forward to rest his elbows on the edge of the table, he shuddered.

When he looked up again, he saw the edge of something white behind his ear in the mirror.

He reached a hand back, and pulled forth the same snowflake pin that had been in her hair, and then inside of the wardrobe. He stared at it, bemused, for a long while; then, he looked up into the mirror, and laughed.

"You've done it, Elsa!" he roared. "You've vanished, disappeared, just like you wanted! And I'm…"

His laughter subsided, and he looked down at the pin again, curling his fingers around it until his knuckles turned white. His shoulders shook as he trembled, and when he looked back into the mirror, he saw that he was crying.

"I'm still here."