by Mari Mancusi
Except somehow it was. It felt a lot different.
“Scooch in,” I said jokingly, trying to ease the sudden tension. It was what we used to say back home. “There’s plenty of room for two.”
“I’m not surprised,” he replied, inching us closer to the fire. “It was my father’s cloak. He was a large man.”
He trailed off, his gaze going back to the mist. A look of longing came over his face. And suddenly I was struck by the fact that I was not the only one who had lost people that day. Agnarr had lost his father. And likely others, too.
“Do you miss him?” I asked. “Your father.”
He didn’t answer at first, still staring into the swirling gray fog. Then he gave a long sigh. “My father and I had a…complicated…relationship. We fought that day at the dam. He was angry at me for wandering off to explore. He said I was acting like a child, not a prince.” He scowled. “He scolded me in front of everyone—all the soldiers and shield-maidens. I was embarrassed. Angry, too. I’ve been angry with him for a long time. It was like nothing I ever did was good enough for him. That he wished he had a better son.” He gulped a breath, like he was about to say something he wasn’t certain should be said out loud. “The truth is, as much as I miss him, I think I’m still pretty angry with him now.”
He dropped his gaze to his hands. My heart panged at the conflicting emotions I saw on his face. When he looked up at me again, his eyes were rimmed with unshed tears. “But I feel guilty, too. If we hadn’t fought that day, I would have been by his side when it all happened. Maybe I could have helped. Maybe I could have saved him.” His voice broke. “Maybe he wouldn’t be dead.”
I nodded slowly, not trusting my voice to speak. I thought about my own last day in the forest. Yelana calling me to my lessons. Had I listened to her, I would never have discovered Agnarr. I would not be here, now, wrapped in his father’s cloak, his warm shoulder pressed against mine.
I sighed resignedly. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t regret what I had done. And I knew, in my heart, I would have done it anyway, even knowing the cost. I did not deserve to be locked away from everyone I loved. But Agnarr did not deserve to die alone on the forest floor because he’d had a fight with his father. Whatever happened that day to anger the spirits and cause all of this, it was not his fault. Nor was it mine. And while we might be on different sides of this fight, we had both lost so much. Our friends. Our family. Our place in the world. In an odd way we were more alike than different.
“Let’s make a pact,” he declared. “We’ll come back here twice a year. Every spring and autumn,” he added. “We’ll travel out here and we’ll check the mist. Maybe it’ll start to fade gradually. Maybe we’ll start finding weak spots. Maybe we’ll eventually find a place we can push through.” His eyes shone as he spoke, and I found myself getting swept up in his hope, however naive. The mist parting. Us stepping through.
Our families, our friends, greeting us on the other side.
Instinctively, I reached out, clasping his hand in my own and squeezing it tight. He turned to look at me, his eyes sparkling.
“So, is that a yes?” he asked. “We’ll return in six months?”
I nodded solemnly. “Six months,” I agreed, before shivering again. I laughed. “Though next time I’m bringing a much warmer coat.”
“And I’m bringing chocolate,” Agnarr added with a mischievous grin. “A lot of chocolate.”
And just like that, I found my very first friend on the other side of the mist.
“AND SO, IT BEGINS! OUR EIGHTH BIANNUAL trek to the glorious, yet still stubbornly mist-bound Enchanted Forest!” I said as I jumped into the wagon beside Agnarr.
He flicked the reins from the driver’s seat and the two horses dutifully sprang into action, the wagon lurching in their wake before I was properly seated. I squealed in protest, grabbing the prince’s arm to prevent myself from tumbling off altogether.
“Someone’s in a hurry,” I teased after regaining my balance. I shoved him playfully in the other direction, to give him a taste of his own medicine.
“I’m just relieved to finally be on our way!” he declared. “We’re three weeks late this spring, you know!”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Your Majesty,” I retorted, rolling my eyes. “Some of us have to work, you know. We can’t just drop everything to traipse off to enchanted forests willy-nilly.”
About a year ago, I’d started apprenticing under an inventor named Johan, who was working to find a way to harness wind power in order to create a natural fuel source for grain mills and water pumps. It was fascinating work, and it turned out I was good at it, too. After all, I did know something about the power of wind.
The past few weeks we’d had terrific weather conditions brought about by an unexpected late spring storm that blew gales of glorious wind into our fjord, so when I wasn’t continuing my studies under the close and demanding eye of Miss Larsen at the castle, I’d been working every spare moment. It hadn’t been easy to find time to get away.
Agnarr gave me a mock offended look. “I work hard, too, you know,” he reminded me. “Arendelle does not just rule itself.”
“I know, I know,” I assured him, giving him a comforting pat. “Heavy is the head that wears the crown.”
Even though Lord Peterssen was still acting as regent for the next three years—until Agnarr would assume the throne—the young prince had a ton of responsibilities to his kingdom. And they seemingly grew more and more each day. Agnarr sat in on all the council meetings where they discussed state affairs, and listened to petitions from the people of Arendelle every week. He was always patient, listening carefully, trying to come up with reasonable solutions. And the people loved him for that. I’d constantly hear them singing the praises of the fair-minded, rational, and intelligent soon-to-be king as I walked through town. It warmed my heart to know he was such a beloved ruler even before officially taking the throne. From what I’d gathered, his father had been respected—feared, even—but the people had never truly warmed to him the way they seemed to have already warmed to Agnarr.
Agnarr reached into his satchel, pulling out a chunk of chocolate and snapping it in two. He kept one, handing the larger half to me. I smiled as I bit into the sweetness, savoring the rich taste on my tongue. One of my favorite things about Arendelle—the chocolate.
That, and all the books at my disposal, thanks to the castle library. Even four years into our shared lessons, I never tired of exploring the dusty shelves and seeing what new adventures I could find.
As the wagon rolled across the bridge and out of the village, then started up into the hills, I reached into my own satchel, pulling out the book I’d been reading. Agnarr rolled his eyes.
“I’m boring you already, huh? And here we’ve barely left town.”
My eyes sparkled as I cracked open the book. “Nothing personal. I’m just at a really good part.”
“Oh, fine,” he said, turning back to the horses. “Guess I’ll have to entertain myself.” He cleared his throat and broke out into a loud, bellowing, and really terrible rendition of a popular Arendellian song:
“I smell that reindeer pee, blowing through the fjord.
Iduna’s ignoring me, so I’m really bored….”
Urgh. I shook my head, dropping my book to plug my fingers in my ears. “Seriously?”
“What?” he asked, shooting me an all-too-innocent look. “You don’t like my singing?”
“No one likes your singing, Agnarr. Not even the horses.”
“Is that true?” he asked the horses in question, flicking the reins again. The two mares snorted loudly—a definitive answer, if I ever heard one. I started giggling. Agnarr sighed.
“Everyone’s a critic.” He flashed me a silly grin, telling me he didn’t really mind. I smiled back at him, setting the book on my lap.
“You’re in a good mood,” I noted.
“And why wouldn’t I be?” he shot back, stretching his arm out to the landscape
in front of us. “The sun is shining. The sky is blue. I’ve got my best friend by my side and we’re leaving the dreary castle for a few days of freedom.”
“With all twenty-two of our very best friends,” I added, glancing back at the Arendelle mounted guard at our backs. Agnarr had insisted they stay at least twenty yards behind us, but it was difficult to ignore their presence altogether.
“Ugh. Don’t look at them,” he groaned. “Pretend it’s just me and you, like the old days.”
I smiled at this. Back in the “old days” as he called them, we’d made this journey on the sly, sneaking out of Arendelle every six months to fulfill our promise to each other to check on the mist twice a year. We’d managed to get away with it three times before Peterssen finally realized what was going on. After that, he insisted we take protection with us if we wanted to keep going at all.
At this point, it had become such a time-honored tradition that it was hard to remember that first year, when I’d headed out alone, scared and sad and reckless, desperate to learn the fate of my family. When Agnarr had come after me—to make sure I was safe—even at the risk of getting in serious trouble once he returned home.
Back then he had been a stranger. My enemy. And yet somehow it hadn’t felt like that as I watched him step up to the mist. As I saw the grief washing over his boyish face. As he spoke of his dead father and all the things he’d never gotten a chance to say to him. It was the first time I realized we were more alike than different.
That we should be friends, not enemies.
The next few trips had been a lot more fun. We’d sneak out of Arendelle in the dead of night with only the provisions we could carry on our backs. Which had led to some difficulties that second trip when we’d run out of snacks halfway there. Luckily for my indoorsy prince, I knew how to live off the land and showed him which berries were safe to eat and which streams were safe to drink from. Unfortunately, he’d still gotten quite the stomachache after drinking some supposedly clean river water, which I felt bad about. Though not bad enough to stop me from teasing him about his “delicate princely stomach”…which made him want to push me into the river.
“What are you reading, anyways?” Agnarr asked now, throwing me a glance. I held the cover up to him. “‘Creatures of Mists and Legends’?” he read. “Sounds…interesting.”
“Oh, it is.” I nodded, warming to the topic of my latest literary conquest. “Right now, I’m reading about the Huldréfolk.”
“Hold-a-fork-of-what?”
“Huldréfolk,” I corrected with a laugh. “They’re mysterious creatures who live amongst us, but we can’t see them because they’re so good at hiding. They also might, possibly have tails, but they never let you see their backsides to be sure.”
“That’s creepy.”
“It’s fascinating,” I corrected. “And they have this special power, too. To find lost things.”
“What do they do with them once they find them?”
“They keep them.”
“Okay. Not useful. Also, not fair. They should return them to their rightful owners!” Agnarr protested.
I snorted. “Sure. I’ll let you tell them that. Or maybe you can make it a law, once you’re king.”
“Absolutely. In fact, it’ll be my very first act as rightful ruler of Arendelle!” he declared. “Who knows, maybe I’ll get all those lost socks back.”
“Ah, yes. King Agnarr, first of his name. Returner of Stinky Socks. You’re sure to be a legend,” I teased as I turned back to my book.
A comfortable silence fell over us as the wagon continued to roll down the path. It was a beautiful day, the world springing back to life after sleeping all winter. Tiny green buds poked their heads out from the earth. Emerald leaves unfurled from tree branches. It was as if there was a promise in the air. A rebirth. It made my heart swell with joy.
It also reminded me of home.
Although by now, my concept of “home” had become somewhat complicated. Arendelle no longer seemed a scary place, with shadows lurking in every corner. Instead, it was familiar, expected, comforting. It was my home, in a sense. The village people were kind and cheery and always had a friendly word to say when I passed.
Though I did wonder, deep down, if they would still be so welcoming if they knew the truth of who I was. Where my real home lay.
Because that was the dark cloud that still hung over an otherwise upbeat kingdom. The resentment and suspicion of the Northuldra and their supposed sorcery were still on the tips of every tongue and had become the convenient explanation for anything going wrong in town. The wine had gone sour? Northuldra magic! Leaky roof? A Northuldra had snuck up at night and ripped off your shingles. The Northuldra people would have had to make Arendelle a full-time job to possibly accomplish all the harm they were supposedly responsible for. They were spies lurking among us, learning our secrets so they could use them against us. They were monsters hiding under the beds of children who refused to go to sleep. All of this, even though no Northuldra had been spotted in all the years since the battle had raged.
But instead of souring their wine, this Northuldra was helping their farmers become self-sufficient. Instead of tearing shingles from roofs, I was poring over books, studying the science of wind. Instead of lurking under children’s beds, I had started teaching orphans to read. Living a normal life, with no magic flowing through my perfectly average, human veins.
In fact, I hadn’t even been able to ask the spirits for help since the mist had fallen. I still tried to call for Gale every once in a while, but the Wind Spirit never answered. It was as if they’d all fallen fast—and firmly—asleep.
But that didn’t make for a good story, did it?
WE SETTLED DOWN TO CAMP FOR THE NIGHT, still a few miles away from the mist. We did this each time, though we probably could have made it in a single day if we really pushed ourselves. But Agnarr loved the excuse to be away from the castle, his studies, and the endless meetings, even if it meant having an entourage in tow.
“How do I start this fire again?” Agnarr asked, frustrated, struggling with the flint. I rolled my eyes good-naturedly. No matter how many times we went through this ritual, the prince could not seem to grasp the simple tasks of outdoor living. The product of growing up in a bespoke castle, I supposed.
I came over to help him, flicking the stones together in one swift motion to create a spark. Then I leaned over the pile of twigs he’d gathered and blew gently, coaxing them to light. Once they were aflame, I added more leaves, then a few sticks of wood. Soon we had a cheery little fire.
“I don’t know how you do it,” he said, shaking his head. “First time, every time! It’s like magic.”
I frowned. “Not magic,” I said firmly. “Only practice. And patience.”
He grinned at me, leaning back against a nearby boulder and placing his hands behind his head. He glanced at the company of guards, setting up camp a short distance away. We would join them later in the evening, when it was time to go to sleep. Agnarr and I each had our own tent, circled by guards. But for now, they allowed us a tiny bit of time alone with one another.
“Practice,” he scoffed. “As if I have time for that. I swear Lord Peterssen has been setting up more meetings on purpose these days, just to keep me busy.” He shook his head. “First thing I do when I become king? Outlaw meetings throughout the land.” He winked at me. “I can do that, right?”
“Oh, yes,” I agreed. “I’m sure everyone will be totally fine with that. In fact, they’ll probably mark a day of celebration in your honor. You will henceforth be known as Agnarr: Annihilator of Meetings.”
“Annihilator of Meetings. Returner of Stinky Socks. I’ve got quite a legacy going, don’t I?” he said jokingly. Then he sighed. “You don’t know how lucky you are to not have to think about this ruling-the-kingdom stuff. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”
I gave him a sympathetic look. While we liked to tease each other, I knew how hard Agnarr worked each d
ay, trying to make Arendelle a better place. It wasn’t easy.
“But enough about me,” he declared, sitting up straighter, changing the subject. “You’re much more interesting.” He grinned. “Tell me, did the new windmill work when you tested it?”
I smiled, happy that he remembered my latest project, though not surprised. Agnarr was always asking about my work and genuinely wanting to know about my progress and failures, celebrating alongside me when I had a breakthrough and consoling me when a new idea flopped. He treated my apprenticeship as if it were just as important as ruling a kingdom. But that was Agnarr. He always took an interest in the little things happening around the kingdom: how the crops were growing, how the people were getting along, the new babies who were born, the elders who died. All that on top of the big-picture kingdom stuff he had to deal with, with all its alliances and trade partners and enemies.
“We’re getting there,” I said. “We’re still working out some kinks. But I had a new brainstorm the other day and Johan’s going to try it out while we’re gone. Hopefully he’ll finally get it to work.”
It was funny; when I’d first seen the “apprentice wanted” posting a year ago, I’d immediately applied, thinking maybe it might help me find Gale. But while the Wind Spirit remained in hiding, I began to fall in love with the work itself. It gave me something to do and it made me feel like I was an important part of the town.
Something more than just being the prince’s best friend.
“That’s great!” Agnarr exclaimed. “And then maybe Johan will invite you to join him permanently!”
He knew this was my greatest dream. My apprenticeship would end in a few months, along with my formal lessons with Miss Larsen. That meant I would be able to take on a full-time role with Johan, if he agreed. No longer simply working for him, but rather alongside him.
