Dangerous Secrets

by Mari Mancusi

  “What is it, Iduna?” I asked softly. She’d always been a little sad after coming to the mist. But I’d never seen her this distraught. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. You can tell me anything.”

  She turned back to me, her face pale and her blue eyes anguished. “How long can we keep doing this, Agnarr?” she demanded. “These silly trips of ours. Soon you’ll be king of Arendelle. You think they’ll let you keep traipsing off on this fool’s errand each fall and spring with some random orphan girl from town?”

  I stared at her, shocked. Of course she wasn’t wrong. I knew, in the back of my mind, that once I became king, some things would have to change. But that was three years away. Did we have to think of that now? Couldn’t we enjoy the time I had left?

  I swallowed hard, trying to pull together my racing thoughts. “First,” I said firmly, “you are not some random orphan girl. You are my best friend. And nothing will change that. I promise. Our friendship is as solid and strong as this stupid magical mist. And I think you’ll agree this stuff is pretty resilient.”

  To prove my point, I charged at the mist, throwing myself full force against it. It was a move I’d jokingly done during past trips and it had always cheered her up some to watch me bounce off the side and land sprawling on my butt in the mud. But this time, she just watched me with tortured eyes. So I leapt up and charged again, once more getting thrown to the ground.

  “Stop it, you crazy person!” she cried, her tone finally carrying a stirring of lightness. “You’re going to hurt yourself! Don’t you know it’s a crime to purposely harm the future king?”

  She jumped between me and the mist. But I had already lunged again. I tried to dig in my heels, to stop myself, but it was too late. I slammed into her, shoving her back against the wall of mist. Suddenly our bodies were pressed up against one another. Our faces inches apart.

  My breath caught in my throat. I stared down at her, suddenly mesmerized by every detail of her face. Her wide blue eyes, her full pink lips, her small nose, slightly turned up at the tip. The light freckles dusting her cheeks. Her body flush with mine. My heart pounded, matching the beats of her own. And for a moment there was nothing else. No mist, no Enchanted Forest, no guards. Just her and me, not moving. Not able to move.

  And then she reached out, pushing me gently away. I stumbled backward, almost losing my balance again. When I looked up at Iduna, I saw her face was bright red. Probably mirroring my own.

  “You are a crazy man!” she declared, choking out a nervous laugh, clearly trying to lighten the moment. “I can’t believe they’re going to let you be king!”

  I grinned impishly. “Well, they still have three years to come to their senses,” I reminded her. “Maybe I’ll get lucky.”

  “Maybe,” she agreed. “Or maybe by then the mist will have parted. You never know.”

  “You never know,” I echoed, pleased to see her unflappable optimism returning. It was one of the things I adored about Iduna. She always saw the best in the world. She never stopped believing things could change for the better.

  I lifted my hand to the mist, making a big show of waving goodbye. Just as I had done every time before. “Till next time,” I called out to it. “You stubborn old thing.”

  And with that, I led Iduna over to the wagon, letting the soldiers know it was time to leave. She scrambled up onto the front seat and I joined her a moment later, after checking on the horses. Before setting off, I gave her a searching look.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  For a moment she said nothing, and I worried I’d lost her to the gloom of the mist once more. Then a small smile emerged. “I will be,” she said. “If you share the rest of that chocolate with me.”

  I grinned, my shoulders slumping in relief. “I think I can manage that.”

  “IDUNA! YOU’RE BACK!”

  I lifted my eyes, squinting in the early morning sunshine. Johan, the man I was apprenticing for, was running down the hill toward me, a huge smile on his face. He was young—only six years older than I was. And with his sparkling brown eyes and mop of curly black hair, it seemed he always had a few village girls vying for his attention. But he was focused on only one thing—inventing.

  And his invention of the moment was centered on wind.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” he declared. “You’ve got to see this.”

  I laughed at his enthusiasm as he dragged me to the top of the hill where we’d set up our test windmills. To my surprise, the blades were rotating steadily, even though I could barely feel a breeze.

  “They’re working!” I cried in excitement. “How did you get them to work?”

  We’d been having trouble with this for months now and Johan had been getting very discouraged. When the weather was just right, his mills worked perfectly, the blades catching the wind and rotating, powering up the mill and allowing it to grind grain or pump water. But capturing that wind wasn’t as easy as it sounded.

  Johan’s face was alight with excitement. “I used your idea,” he said. “To make them moveable. So the post in the middle stays in place. But the blades can be rotated around the post, depending on the weather conditions. This way, whichever direction the wind is coming from, they can pick it up.”

  “And it worked?”

  Johan pointed at the windmill.

  I grinned, watching the blades spin around and around. A warm feeling of pride rolled over me with each rotation. We had made it happen. And now—who knew what the possibilities might be?

  I couldn’t wait to tell Agnarr.

  “Can you believe how far we’ve come, Iduna?” Johan cried, coming over to me and putting a hand on my back. He’d grown up poor in the village, with big dreams of making something of himself, but the townspeople had never taken him too seriously. Crazy Johan and his inventions, they used to say, laughing.

  But no one would be laughing now. Not when they saw this.

  “I hope you’ll put in a good word for me with your friends at the castle,” Johan added, brushing his hands against his pants to wipe off the grease that had accumulated on them. “We need them to approve these windmills before we can offer them to the citizens of Arendelle. They might not like it,” he added with a warning tone. “It could detract from their own profits.”

  “Agnarr will love it,” I assured him, walking over to the windmill and looking at it with delight. I could feel the breeze on my face and it reminded me of Gale. I hoped my dear friend would be proud of how I had put the knowledge gathered from our time together to practical use.

  To feed the hungry. To empower the people.

  It felt good. So good.

  “What will I love?”

  I whirled around, delighted to see none other than Agnarr himself, climbing the hill, accompanied by a few of his personal guards. My face broke out into another huge smile.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked. “And how are you up so early? Why, it’s not even noon!”

  “Ha ha. I can rise early!” he protested, looking a little offended. Not that he had any right to be—he was a notoriously late sleeper. Perks of being a prince, I guess.

  I smirked. “Let me guess. Council meeting this morning.”

  “Yes. Which, so sadly, I couldn’t attend,” Agnarr agreed, with a great and regretful sigh. “Since I have already committed myself to attending to the people of Arendelle this fine morning. I cannot disappoint my loyal subjects.”

  “How…noble of you.” There was nothing Agnarr hated more than council meetings. “And let me guess. You started your very important rounds at Blodget’s Bakery?”

  A smile crept to his lips. “Bakeries are a very important part of any kingdom, I’ll have you know.”

  “Oh, I know. And a good prince must always avail himself to a cookie taste test, right?”

  “Sacrifices must be made,” Agnarr agreed solemnly. “For the good of the realm.”

  “Your Majesty,” Johan broke in as he bowed from the waist. “I am truly honored to
have you visit my humble mill. Please let me know if I can be of any assistance in any way possible.”

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Johan wasn’t exactly the biggest fan of the monarchy. And he definitely didn’t like Agnarr, the spoiled prince, as he called him. Which was totally unfair, since Agnarr was not spoiled at all. But any time I tried to defend him, Johan would get angry and tell me I didn’t understand.

  But now, here he was, putting on a great show. Probably so Agnarr would sign off on his windmills. Which was totally unnecessary. Agnarr would always do the right thing if it helped his people. No sucking up required.

  Agnarr smiled down at him, unaware of Johan’s true feelings. “You don’t have to do that,” he assured him. “Iduna has told me all about your work together. I’d love to see these mills for myself.”

  “Of course, Your Majesty!” Johan scrambled to his feet, his face red as a tomato. He turned to the post-mill, which was still rotating steadily. “It’s an important invention. Sure to revolutionize farming from this moment forward….”

  He started explaining the rotating blade part of the mill. The part I had come up with. But to my surprise, he didn’t mention my part in it. He took all the credit for himself—as if it had all been his idea. Not that I needed credit. I was just an apprentice after all. But still! At least a little acknowledgment might have been nice.

  “This is all very interesting,” Agnarr said when Johan had finished. “I can’t wait to see it put to practical use. What will you charge for these post-mills?”

  Johan waved a hand. “Very little,” he said. “Just enough over cost for me to live a simple life. After all, I do this work for the people, not my own personal gain.” He gave the prince a smug look.

  Agnarr, to his credit, nodded sincerely. “That’s wonderful to hear,” he said. “Anything to help Arendelle and her people. Please do let me know if you need anything from me. Anything at all that might help.”

  “Your Majesty is too kind,” Johan replied, bowing his head again. “But…how will I reach you? We commoners can’t exactly just waltz into the castle and start demanding favors of our betters, now can we?”

  I frowned at the tone in his voice, setting Agnarr up in a trap. But the prince didn’t acknowledge the barb—if he noticed it. Instead he just waved a hand.

  “Oh, just ask Iduna. She’ll deliver the message, won’t you?” Agnarr smiled at me before turning back to my employer. “You know, you’re very lucky to have someone so smart in your employ. She’s really a good worker, isn’t she?” He gave Johan a knowing look.

  I groaned. I knew exactly what he was trying to do. And it wasn’t helping.

  “Well! It was so great to see you, Your Majesty,” I broke in, giving him a warning look. “But I’m sure you are so busy right now, visiting all of your people. Please do not feel you have to linger a moment longer.”

  “I suppose you are right,” Agnarr replied with a mischievous look. “And when I’m finished, I believe I have some important reading to do?” Reading was our code word to meet at our favorite tree in the castle courtyard. Though oftentimes there was no actual reading involved.

  “Reading sounds great,” I assured him. “Perhaps I will also read something once I have finished my important work.”

  Agnarr shook his head, as if in amazement. “She’s such a hard worker, isn’t she, Johan? So dedicated! So smart. So—”

  “Goodbye, Your Majesty,” I interjected, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. He was too much.

  “Goodbye, Iduna.” He winked at me. “Work hard! Like you always do!”

  And with that, Agnarr and his guards rejoined the road, heading farther up into the hills. Probably to pay a visit to the farmers and shepherds above. I watched him go for a moment, smiling to myself. Even if his methods were crude and completely obvious, I appreciated the sentiment. He knew how much I wanted this job. Why it was important to me.

  “He thinks he’s so great, doesn’t he?” Johan shared once Agnarr had departed.

  I turned, not surprised to see Johan was no longer smiling. He was watching Agnarr climb the hill with a scowl on his face.

  “What are you talking about?” I asked with a sigh. Here we go again. “He said he loved your windmills. He offered to help.”

  “I don’t need his help. Don’t you get it?” Johan retorted “Once the monarchy gets involved, it will be all about them. They’ll try to take over my project. Use my invention for their own personal gain.”

  “Agnarr would never do that!” I protested.

  “You think you know him so well. But trust me, all monarchy is the same. They’re selfish, entitled, and they only think of themselves. I know he’s your friend now, Iduna,” he added. “But beware. When push comes to shove, he will choose his crown over his friends. They always do.”

  I frowned. “You’re one to talk,” I said. “You didn’t even mention that the rotating posts were my idea.”

  Johan’s frown softened. “I’m sorry about that,” he replied. “I was…caught off guard by his sudden appearance. I didn’t explain anything well. I certainly didn’t mean to discredit all your hard work.” He stepped toward me, reaching out to take my hands in his. Hands so different from Agnarr’s—rough and calloused, whereas the prince’s were strong but smooth. “You are amazing,” he told me. “I could never have done this without you. And the next time I see the prince, I will tell him that.”

  I felt my cheeks heat up. “You don’t have to do that,” I said. “It doesn’t matter anyway. It wasn’t just me. It was us. We did it together.”

  “We did. We’re a great team, you and I,” he declared, looking up at the post-mill. Then he dropped my hands. “Now. Come. Unlike certain spoiled princes, we have much work to do.”

  “WHAT ARE YOU READING, YOUR MAJESTY?”

  I hooked my knees around the tree branch, swinging backward until I was upside down and face to face with Agnarr, who had just sat under the tree and cracked his book open. He startled, clearly not having realized I was up there, lying in wait. Then he flashed me a grin.

  “Some new Danish author,” he said, holding up his book.

  I swung my legs around, gracefully flipping out of the tree and landing on the ground in front of him with a flourish. He groaned.

  “I seriously believe you are part cat,” he declared. “How else do you always land on your feet?”

  “The bigger question is, how do you never land on yours?” I teased back, dancing over to him. “I mean, it feels like the laws of nature should give you at least a fifty-fifty chance.”

  He rolled his eyes, giving me a pained look. I shrugged impishly and plopped down beside him on the bench. I plucked the book from his hand and skimmed the cover. “‘The Little Mermaid’?” I read. “Sounds interesting.”

  He grabbed the book from me. “It is.” He opened it back up, flipping through it until he found his page. I tapped my finger impatiently on my knee, refusing to be ignored.

  “What’s it about?”

  He looked up. “A mermaid.”

  “Wow. Descriptive.”

  “Sorry.” His mouth quirked. “A little mermaid.”

  I groaned. “You are the worst book describer ever.”

  “Hey! I just don’t want to spoil it for you,” he said with an all-too-innocent smirk. “You’re welcome to read it yourself after I’m finished.”

  “You’re also the slowest reader ever. I’ll literally have died of old age by the time you hand over the book.” I made an overly dramatic swooning motion, as if I were expiring, right then and there. “Tragically sent to my grave without ever knowing the story behind the mermaid who is also little for some random reason that my best friend won’t reveal out of sheer cruelty and malice.”

  Agnarr closed the book. “You’re impossible, you know.”

  I leaned in, then lowered my voice as though we were sharing our deepest secrets. “So you’ll tell me?”

  “Absolutely not. But let’s try to find you a
second copy in the library.”

  I grinned. “I suppose that would be all right, too.”

  Agnarr stuffed the book in his satchel, and together we headed back inside the castle, down the hall, and toward the library. It was still my favorite room in the whole gigantean place. I loved the smell of musty books and old leather. And the treasures it held—like mermaids, little or otherwise—were only the beginning.

  I watched as Agnarr began to search the shelves, a familiar warmth rising in my chest. It’d been three months since we’d last traveled to the mist, and something about that journey had changed us forever. We were still best friends, of course. We still joked and bantered and teased one another with fluid ease. But there was something else there now, a gravity to our friendship, lingering beneath the surface.

  Not to mention an unspoken desire to be near one another at all times.

  When he wasn’t in meetings, and I wasn’t working, and we both didn’t need to study, we’d always find some excuse to meet up. Under the name of friendship, nothing more.

  Except there was something more; I could feel it growing each day.

  And I didn’t know whether to be delighted…or scared to death.

  “Hmm. Now to find it…” Agnarr’s voice snapped me back to attention. “I swear I saw another copy somewhere.” He started digging into the stacks.

  I tiptoed behind him, careful not to be seen. When he wasn’t looking, I plucked the book from his satchel, then made a great show of finding it in the stacks.

  “Oh, look! Here it is!” I cried excitedly. “My very own copy. How lucky is that?”

  His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You just found that there now? Just like that? Amongst the thousands of books in here?”

  “Just lucky I guess!” I beamed. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some important reading to do.”

  I plopped down into a nearby leather armchair, opening the book. Agnarr watched me for a moment, then sighed, reaching into his satchel for his own copy, which, of course, was no longer there.