Dangerous Secrets

by Mari Mancusi

I tried my best to keep a straight face, staring very seriously into the book, as, from the corner of my eye, I saw his expression morph from confusion to understanding to annoyance. But then the giggles came.

  I could never stop the giggles.

  “You are so dead!” he declared, diving at me. But I was too quick, leaping over the back of the chair and dashing through the library. He gave quick pursuit and soon we were in a full-on game of chase, dodging furniture and maybe—but definitely accidentally—knocking over old things that were probably way too old and valuable to be knocked down.

  We were well beyond the age of kids who should have been playing this kind of thing, of course. At least that was what Gerda and Kai would always say when they found us chasing each other or playing hide-and-seek through the castle. But we didn’t care. It was fun. And weren’t older people allowed to have fun, too?

  Suddenly, Agnarr changed course, taking a sharp left to cut me off. I screeched as he lunged for the book, throwing myself to the side only to knock into a statue of a horse.

  A very familiar-looking horse. Wait, was that a statue of the Water Nokk?

  I dove to try to save it, but I was too late. It fell forward with a loud…

  Grinding sound?

  What on earth?

  Agnarr and I both froze in our tracks. Dust billowed in the air. The bookcase behind the statue had swung open wide, revealing an arched passageway beyond.

  I glanced over at Agnarr. His shocked expression confirmed he’d had no idea there was a secret door in the library. He’d shown me other secret passages. Useful ones that could be used to sneak out of the castle unseen. But this was new.

  “What is this?” Agnarr asked, stepping forward to examine the bookcase. As if that was the most interesting part about all of this. I watched, impatiently, as he checked out the hinges, then turned to the Water Nokk, as if trying to piece the mechanics together.

  I nearly screamed in frustration. All I cared about was the secret room.

  Unwilling to wait any longer, I grabbed a candlestick off the wall and dashed through the passageway, which dead-ended into a dark, small, windowless room with a table in the center. On the table was an ornate candelabra, which I lit with my small candlestick. Soon the whole room began to sparkle and shine, the light catching tiny flecks of crystals embedded in stone shelves that rose floor to ceiling on all sides. I drew in an admiring breath, twirling around. What a magical place!

  Magical and…messy. The shelves were covered in dusty old objects that clearly hadn’t been used for years: glass beakers, silver scales meant to weigh small things, dusty vases filled with dried-up flowers.

  And books. So many books.

  Not ordinary books like the ones in the regular library either, which were old but not as old as these. These books looked like they’d been in here, gathering dust, for a thousand years.

  My eyes were also drawn to a rickety old table in the center of the room. It was covered in scrolls of ancient paper that crumbled at the corners, all with writing in languages I couldn’t decipher. Among the scrolls were piles of old maps with drawings of foreign lands and sea monsters scrawled across their pages.

  “This is amazing!” I cried, twirling around the room. “How long has it been here? Does anyone know it exists?”

  “My father did, evidently,” Agnarr replied, stepping up beside me.

  I whirled around, confused. He pointed to blueprints I hadn’t noticed yet, lying at the edge of the table. “That’s his handwriting,” he said flatly. Then he turned and pointed to a dusty portrait in the corner of a woman wearing a crown. “And that’s my mother.”

  I stared at the portrait, surprised. Agnarr never talked about his mother. I didn’t even know her name. I stared at the portrait, immediately identifying the resemblance between the woman and her son. Same reddish-blond hair. Same green eyes. But unlike Agnarr’s eyes, which always sparkled like the sun, this woman’s eyes looked unbearably sad. As if she held a terrible secret.

  “You never talk about your mother,” I said softly, for the first time wondering why.

  “She…disappeared when I was young,” he said slowly. “They searched and searched for her, but never found her.” He shrugged impatiently, as if he didn’t care. “At least that’s what they told me. I have no idea if it’s true.”

  “Why wouldn’t it be true?” I asked, though I wondered if I should press him. He looked so upset, his face dark and brooding. As if he was on the verge of crying. Or maybe punching someone in the mouth. Which wasn’t like the Agnarr I knew.

  I guess we all had our secrets.

  “You know what, who cares?” I announced resolutely, trying to lighten his mood. “It’s just a dumb old room anyway. Smelly, too. Let’s close it up and forget we ever saw it. There’s nothing interesting in here anyway.”

  It was the last thing I wanted to do, of course. I mean, who knew what kind of ancient wisdom might be buried in a room like this? Perhaps it even held some sort of clue to breaking through the mist. Some historical record of when something like the mist had happened before—and how the people of the past had dispersed it.

  But Agnarr looked so distraught. Like simply standing in the room was causing him physical pain. I had to get him out of there. And fast.

  I held up The Little Mermaid, waving it in his face. “Oh, look what I found!” I tried.

  But he only pushed it away, walking to the other side of the room. He stared up at the old books, his face twisted with anger. “All these secrets!” he burst out. “My whole life! No one told me anything. It was all secrets, secrets, secrets! And now my father’s dead. And my mother’s gone. And all the answers are gone with them.”

  He slammed his fist against the wall. Then he turned to me, his brilliant green eyes practically gleaming with misery.

  “Please, Iduna. Promise me now. No secrets between us. Ever.”

  My heart suddenly gave a jolt. I dropped the book, which landed on the table with a heavy thud. But I couldn’t bring myself to reach down to pick it up, too afraid I’d topple over if I tried.

  No secrets? How could he ask for that? But then, of course, he didn’t know. To him, I was an open book. He had no idea the depths of my deception. How I’d lied to him every day since we’d met. Lies stacked upon lies on top of lies, like some crazy house of cards that could come crashing down at the slightest breeze.

  The lump in my throat threatened to choke me. But I forced myself to suck in a breath, trying desperately to channel some inner calm. What was it Agnarr always said before he went to address the people?

  Conceal, don’t feel.

  “I’ve got to go!” I blurted out, doing a particularly terrible job at the whole “concealing” thing. My best friend—the boy I loved more than anyone else in the world—was standing before me, asking me to tell the truth.

  And I couldn’t do it. Even for him. Especially for him.

  “Iduna, what’s wrong?” Agnarr asked, looking alarmed at my reaction. He reached out, taking my hands in his own and squeezing them tight. My heart fluttered as he met my eyes with his own. Eyes so deep and green and bright, but filled with such confusion.

  He didn’t understand.

  He’d never understand. Because I could never tell him.

  “What’s wrong, Iduna?” he repeated, softer this time, reaching up to trace my cheek with feathery fingers, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. I should go. I should leave. I should run from this room and never come back.

  But, of course, I couldn’t. I could no more walk out of the room than I could break through the mist itself.

  Instead, I closed my eyes. Tried to still my racing heart. “Nothing,” I whispered. “I just…”

  I trailed off, unsure what to say. Not sure if I’d ever know what to say again. Every word that came from my mouth tasted like a lie, even the ones that were true. What was I going to do?

  “I think I know.”

  My eyes flew open. “What?”

  �
��I know what you’re hiding.”

  A cold knot formed in my stomach. “What I’m hiding?” I repeated. “You…do?” I could barely get out the words. My whole world felt as if it were teetering on the edge of a cliff, ready to fall into the abyss.

  He nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. The confusion was gone, I realized. And in its place a striking look of clarity. And…something else entirely.

  “Don’t worry,” he whispered. “I feel it, too. I’ve been feeling it for a while now. Since our last journey out to the dam.” His face turned bright red. “Though I wasn’t sure at first if you did, too. But now…I think…” He choked out a laugh. “Wow. I’m really bad at this, huh?”

  And suddenly I realized exactly what he was trying to say. What secret of mine he’d uncovered. A secret that had been bursting inside of me for months now, even though it had gone unacknowledged until that very moment.

  Relief crashed over me like a tidal wave and I found myself starting to laugh. It was a totally wrong reaction, but I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stop laughing.

  His face fell. His eyes clouded again. “Oh,” he said. “Maybe I was wrong—”

  And then my lips met his.

  For a moment he stood there as if frozen in place. Then, slowly, his hands reached out and cupped my cheeks, pulling me close to him.

  And he kissed me back.

  This was wrong. I knew it was wrong. And yet—perhaps it was that very wrongness that made it feel so right. So good and perfect and sweet. We were all alone, in a secret room. No one could see. No one would know.

  And we were kissing.

  Our lips joined felt clumsy at first, but somehow that made it all the better, a new adventure we’d embarked upon together. His mouth moved hungrily against mine, and his hands tangled in my hair. I clamped my hands on his hips, pulling him closer. Our bodies seemed to melt into one another until I was unsure where I ended and he began.

  Thud!

  We broke apart, startled by the noise. It took us a moment to realize it was just the Little Mermaid book, knocked from the table. I gave a brittle laugh, suddenly bashful, quickly dropping to my knees to grab the book, mostly as an excuse to duck out of sight for a moment and try to get myself under control.

  “Uh…” Agnarr stammered when I rose to my feet again, as if he’d lost all power of speech. “Wow. That was…wow.”

  “Wow,” I agreed, daring to look at him again. His eyes were glazed over. But he looked happy.

  Almost as happy as I felt.

  Feeling brave, I leaned forward again, planting a kiss on his cheek. Then, before he could react, I danced over to the exit, waving the Little Mermaid book gleefully as I went.

  “I’m going to read this first,” I told him.

  Agnarr stared at me. His face was adorably flushed, redder than I’d ever seen it before. I gave a small wave before heading down the passageway, the book clutched to my chest. I’d almost made it out before he finally spoke.

  “Iduna…”

  I stopped. Turned. “Yes, Your Majesty?”

  He grinned at me. “Don’t tell me how it ends.”

  SHE’D KISSED ME. SHE’D KISSED ME! OUT of the blue—I hadn’t even been expecting it. I mean, I’d wanted it. I’d been wanting it. I’d been dreaming of it, too. How many nights had I laid awake in bed, imagining what Iduna’s lips would feel like on mine? But I had no idea that she would just—

  “Agnarr! Could you at least pretend to be paying attention?”

  I looked up, realizing everyone in the council meeting room was staring at me. We’d been having another one of those endlessly boring diplomacy meetings all afternoon, but I hadn’t been able to pay attention to anything being said. And who could blame me? How could one focus on politics and foreign relations when one had a memory of a perfect kiss from a perfect girl running through one’s head?

  “Agnarr, please. We need your input here.” Lord Peterssen was beginning to sound cross. I sighed and straightened in my chair, doing my best to push thoughts of Iduna out of my brain. Which was impossible, of course, but at least they could dance in the back part for a while, instead of taking up my entire attention.

  “What are we talking about again?” I asked, trying to look like a good prince.

  “The kingdom of Vassar. It’s got a nice port. Great trade opportunities. It would be a boon for us to join our two kingdoms together in an alliance,” Peterssen said.

  “Uh, sure. That sounds great.” Why did I care about any of this again?

  “Really? Then you agree? You don’t want to think about it first?” Peterssen was peering at me curiously. “Or at least meet the girl?”

  I almost fell out of my chair. “Wait, what?”

  “The king of Vassar’s daughter? Runa? He’s offered you her hand in marriage.” Peterssen gave me a pointed look, silently scolding me for not listening earlier.

  “A fine lady,” piped in Frederick, one of the council members. He was short and burly, and had the biggest, reddest mustache I’d ever seen on a man. “Quite beautiful, too, from what I understand. Would make for a regal queen and a good mother.”

  Queen? Mother? I stood up, succeeding mainly in knocking over my chair. It fell to the floor with a loud crash. “What are you talking about?”

  Peterssen sighed deeply. “Agnarr, you’re eighteen. In a few years, you’ll be taking the throne of Arendelle. Which means you need to sire an heir to the throne. Maybe two. And to do that, you need a wife. Sooner rather than later.”

  My mind immediately flashed to Iduna. Which was ridiculous, of course. They’d never let me marry her. She was, by all rights, a commoner. I was supposed to marry a princess from a different kingdom to strengthen Arendelle’s position. Especially after my father’s death. Peterssen had done his best as regent, but the wolves were always sniffing at the doors of a kingdom with a young ruler.

  I knew all this in my head. I had always known it, deep down.

  But in my heart…

  Without thinking, I rubbed my thumb across my lower lip. I could still feel the phantom bliss of her soft mouth moving against mine.

  Iduna.

  I faked a cough. Ridiculous, certainly, but all I could come up with on short notice. “I’m not feeling well,” I announced. “I need a break. We can talk about this another day.” I started toward the door.

  “But, sire!” protested Peterssen.

  I stopped in my tracks. “I’ve gone eighteen years without a wife,” I said slowly. “Surely you gentlemen can wait a few more days to foist one on me.”

  “We’re not asking you to decide right now,” Frederick responded. “Just for you to keep an open mind. And allow the young lady to come visit us in Arendelle. So she can experience the beauty and charm of our kingdom for herself.”

  “Sure. That’s fine. Whatever you want to do.” I was already halfway to the door, desperate to escape those gazes, the looks of men who expected me to lead but doubted my ability to do so. I could feel Peterssen’s eyes on me, but I refused to look in his direction. This is your fault! I wanted to cry. You brought her here. The most beautiful, kind, funny girl in the world. What did you expect would happen?

  But I couldn’t say any of that. They’d never understand. And so, with as much dignity as I could muster, I lifted my head high and strode out of the council chambers like the king I was.

  Conceal, don’t feel.

  Don’t let it show….

  “YOUR USUAL, MISS IDUNA?” ASKED MRS. Blodget as I practically skipped into her bakery later that day. I peered into the glass cabinet where she kept all her special treats. Flaky pastries, gigantic cookies, and, of course, chocolate.

  So much chocolate.

  “Yes,” I said. “Two dozen cookies. And, that right there, whatever that is,” I added impulsively, pointing to what looked like a miniature Arendelle Castle made entirely of chocolate. The cookies would be for the younger children in the orphanage. Now that I was working and had an income, I liked to bring t
hem treats. While the orphanage did well at stretching their budget to make sure everyone was fed, there was never much left over for desserts.

  The chocolate however, was for me.

  As Mrs. Blodget bustled to package up the cookies, I wandered around the store, looking in all the cases. But even as I peered through the glass, my mind was completely elsewhere.

  Namely, on Agnarr’s kiss.

  “You look happy today,” Mrs. Blodget remarked as she came over with the box of cookies, tied with a red ribbon. “Of course, you always do.” She handed them to me, along with the bag containing the tiny chocolate castle. She gave me a wink. “I added an extra half dozen cookies,” she said in a conspiratorial tone. “For the children.”

  “Thank you,” I said, beaming. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I know. I wanted to. Such a sweet thing you do for them. Those poor little dears.”

  I shrugged. “It’s the least I can do.”

  “Well, not all would bother to do the same, trust me,” she said, clucking her tongue. “They are lucky to have you. We are lucky to have you,” she added. “My husband told me what you and Johan are working on up in the hills with the wind. He said it will revolutionize our town.”

  “I hope so.” I smiled.

  Mrs. Blodget’s eyes misted over. “Your parents would have been so proud.”

  “Thank you,” I said, a little uneasy about the parents part. It was so tough, always lying to people. Especially people as nice as Mrs. Blodget. How long would I have to do this? My mind flashed back to Agnarr’s words in the library.

  Please, Iduna. Promise me now. No secrets between us. Ever.

  A promise I could never make. Even to the boy I loved.

  “Good morning, sunshine,” Johan greeted me as I entered his barn early the next morning. “You’re looking bright and cheery this morning.”

  I gave him a wan smile, exhaustion settling on my shoulders like a wet blanket. I hadn’t been able to sleep much the night before, tossing and turning and thinking of Agnarr. Some of it was nice—reliving our secret kisses in the library room. Other parts were not, though. I tried and tried to come up with a way to tell him the truth about my past without ruining everything between us.