Dangerous Secrets

by Mari Mancusi

  Agnarr tapped his finger to his chin, considering the options. “What if you started your own windmill business? Give Johan a little competition.”

  “That would great,” I said with a chuckle. “But how would I start a business? No one’s going to invest in a sixteen-year-old girl.”

  “I would. If she were you.”

  I groaned. “For the last time, I’m not taking your money, Agnarr.”

  “I don’t see why not. I have more than enough to spare. Also, you’re a good investment. I know you’d pay me back.”

  I kissed him in the space between his ear and collarbone, the place I knew always made him shiver. “Agnarr. I appreciate your faith in me. But this is something I have to do on my own.”

  “Oh, fine.” He sat up and ran his hand through his hair. “So you don’t have money. What do you have?”

  I scrunched up my nose. “Knowledge? I mean, I know how to build a windmill. I just don’t have the money to buy the supplies to do it.”

  “That’s it!” Agnarr cried, pointing at me. “I got it!”

  “What?”

  “You can be a teacher.”

  “A teacher? Like Miss Larsen?”

  He shook his head. “What I’m thinking is something a little more specialized.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You told me Johan actually constructs these windmills on farmers’ lands, right? Well, what if they want to save money by just paying for the knowledge of how to build them and actually doing the construction themselves?”

  My eyes widened. “Oh!”

  “You could teach them, right? You’d provide the expertise and the building plans, for a reasonable fee. And they’d gather all the materials and labor.”

  “That’s…not a bad idea,” I said, trying to organize the thoughts whirling through my head. “This way people wouldn’t have to sacrifice half their life savings to get a windmill.”

  “And you’re such a good teacher,” Agnarr said. “You’re so patient with everyone. Even me!”

  “Especially you,” I teased, poking him in the arm.

  “So, what do you think?” he asked.

  “I think you’re brilliant,” I declared. “But don’t let it go to your head.”

  He smiled. “There’s only one thing in my head right now, Iduna.” He lowered his mouth so his lips were right against mine. “And she’s going to make a terrific teacher.”

  “ALL RIGHT, SO YOU HAVE SOME CHOICES here. You can just build your basic windmill—which will require fewer materials and is less labor intensive. Or you can add a roundhouse to the design. This will cost more up front as it requires a lot more lumber. However, you’ll gain a covered storage area for your grain or farm tools.”

  “Hm. What do you suggest?” asked Mr. Hansen, studying the plans that I’d sketched and laid out before him. “I don’t want to waste any money, but…”

  “A roundhouse will also protect your trestle—that’s basically the legs of the windmill—from bad weather,” I told him. “Which, we tend to have a lot of around here. If you can afford it, I would definitely recommend it.”

  Mr. Hansen looked up. “Well then, let’s go with that!”

  I smiled, rolling up the plans and putting out my hand. He shook it with a firm grip. “Great,” I said. “I’ll revise these to include the roundhouse and get them back to you first thing tomorrow. Sound good?”

  “Fantastic. This is going to save me a fortune from what I was going to pay Johan. And I don’t mind doing the work myself. I prefer it, actually. This way I get exactly what I want.” He grinned at me. “Thank you, Iduna.”

  “Thank you,” I corrected with a smile. “And please tell all your friends. I’d love to design windmills for them as well.”

  “Oh, you better believe I will,” he declared. “I’ll sing your praises in the pub tonight. By morning, you’ll have more business than you can handle.”

  “Don’t worry. I can handle quite a bit,” I assured him. “Thank you again. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  And with that, I headed back down the hill, whistling cheerfully. It was a beautiful day. I was once again gainfully employed. Self-employed—which was even better. After all, I had the best boss in the world. Even if she was a bit of a tyrant.

  I still couldn’t believe how much fun I’d been having over the past few weeks. It was hard work—yes. And at the end of the day, I was exhausted. But I was earning money every day, and I’d already raised almost enough to rent my own place. My own little home in the village—it sounded like a dream come true.

  And Agnarr had been so encouraging. Sure, he was busy, too—with all the council meetings and his royal duties. But he never missed a chance to meet me at the end of the day in our secret room in the library. We would curl up in one another’s arms, utterly spent from our very different days, and he’d make me tell him everything—even the boring stuff. And he’d act interested in all of it.

  I reached the bridge that led into Arendelle, waving at a few people as I crossed. My mind wandered to the first day I’d come to the town, still but a girl, frightened and alone. The walls had seemed so tall and imposing then. The streets so narrow and tight. I couldn’t imagine, at the time, living in a place like this.

  But now, it felt like home.

  It would never replace the forest I grew up in. I still mourned my old life and family and all I had lost that day. But it had been so long now, that life had begun to feel almost like a dream. A beautiful dream of an enchanted forest, with magical spirits and a family that loved me.

  There was a time when I truly believed I would die if I could never enter the forest again. If the mist was never to part. But that time, I realized, was long gone. And I had so much more to live for now. My life in Arendelle wasn’t what I planned for, but I had made it mine all the same, and I was proud of what I’d accomplished so far—and of the things I still planned to do. And now my dreams were less about returning to the past and more about striking out into the future—whatever it might bring.

  I just hoped, somehow, Agnarr could be a part of that future, too.

  “I WAS MINDING MY OWN BUSINESS!” declared Mrs. Olsen, a local fishing boater sporting a ropy silver braid that trailed down her back. “Sitting in my boat, sewing up my nets for the next day’s haul. When all of a sudden, I felt like I couldn’t breathe! It was as if I had a noose tied around my neck. But when I reached up to try to remove it, there was nothing there!” She shook her head. “I’ve been too afraid to get on my boat ever since.”

  I nodded along, careful to keep my expression neutral from my seat on the dais in the Great Hall, as she continued with her tirade. The Tuesday petitioner session—where the people of Arendelle would come to air their grievances to the crown and ask for help or advice—often proved to be a difficult balancing act for me. As their would-be ruler, I needed to act concerned and sympathetic, but at the same time impartial. Sometimes it was hard to keep a straight face, while at other times it was hard not to rush over to them with a hug and comforting words.

  Some of their complaints were petty, like the neighbor’s goat had eaten their prize tulips. Others, though, were truly heartbreaking: like the one from a woman whose husband had died in a freak accident; she, sadly, had no job (and no income) and was left with five children to feed and support. But more and more frequently, these sessions had started centering on the strange reports we were receiving of incidents occurring down by the docks and outside the village. Some swore they were about the misuse of magical powers—and how those affected couldn’t protect themselves.

  A shepherd named Aksel stood to echo Mrs. Olsen. “I’ve always kept a herd of sheep grazing in the hills,” he began. “Never had a single problem keeping them there. But yesterday I went up to check on them? And they had all turned purple!”

  “Purple?” I frowned. “What do you mean, purple?”

  “I mean, purple! Day before their wool was as white as the driven snow. Now it’s bright purple
! They’re acting spooked, too. I’m sure they’re under some kind of evil spell.”

  “It’s the spirits,” declared Gunnar, our town’s new blacksmith, who had been standing near the back of the room. He’d only arrived a month ago and had been a troublemaker ever since, stirring up the crowds with his constant talk of evil spirits. “The same ones from the day at the dam. They’re toying with us now. But mark my words, soon they’ll come down from the hills. They will attack Arendelle with their black magic. We must be ready for them.”

  I groaned under my breath. Not again. “Has anyone actually seen a spirit?” I cut in, my tone brusque. “In Arendelle, I mean, or anywhere nearby?” I turned to Aksel. “Did you see any by your sheep? Or, Mrs. Olsen, by your boat? Has anyone seen a single spirit in real life, ever?”

  Everyone shrugged noncommittally, looking down at their feet.

  “Could it be possible that something else is causing the problems then? Something non-magical in nature?” I asked. “Mrs. Olsen, have you been checked by a doctor lately? The pollen is fierce this spring. Maybe you had an allergy attack. And, Aksel, could one of the shepherds from a neighboring town be jealous of your prizewinning wool—and hoped to gain advantage by dyeing your sheep when you weren’t looking?”

  “So, you’re saying you don’t believe us?” Gunnar asked. “That the crown won’t even investigate these extremely valid concerns, as odd as they may seem to you?” The room erupted in angry chatter.

  Frustration flared through me. “No, what I’m saying is—”

  Lord Peterssen rose to his feet, placing a stilling hand on my shoulder. “Of course Prince Agnarr believes you,” he said. “And no matter who or what is behind these acts, they must stop immediately. We will double our patrols, both in town and in the hills. If we find any suspicious individuals, or, uh, spirits skulking around, we will track them down and bring them in to face the law.”

  There were a few grunts from the crowd, but most did not seem appeased. What did they want us to do? This supposed enemy had never been seen. How were we to guard against magical spirits?

  “I think that’s enough for today,” Peterssen added, his voice rising above the din. “We will reconvene next week to hear any new grievances. For now, please join us for refreshments in the Second Great Hall.”

  The mood of the crowd lightened immediately at this, all evil spirits forgotten, and they quickly evacuated the throne room to get themselves some treats. Peterssen watched them file out, not saying a word. When at last they were all gone, I turned to him.

  “What is it with everyone and the spirits?” I asked, my tone unusually short with my closest advisor. “We haven’t seen any evidence of them since the mist rolled in. Why does everything get blamed on them still?”

  Peterssen patted my shoulder. “People will always need something to blame for their troubles,” he explained. “And magical spirits are an easy target—since they can’t exactly defend themselves. Also, to be frank, Agnarr, the people are just following the precedent set by your father. Whenever something bad happened in Arendelle, he’d blame it on magic or evil spirits. I don’t know if he truly believed it, or felt it was easier than taking responsibility. But I’m sure the people remember.” His face clouded over. “And it only seems to have gotten worse since the battle all those years ago.”

  A distant memory floated into my consciousness. “He blamed them for my mother,” I said. I hadn’t thought of that moment in ages. But now it seemed clear as day. Me, age five, playing with a wooden horse in my bedroom. My father’s hulking shape, standing silhouetted in the doorway. I looked up, startled. He’d cleared his throat before speaking.

  Agnarr, your mother is gone. She was taken by evil spirits. And she’s likely not coming back.

  I hadn’t been able to sleep for a week after that. I kept looking for her during the day, praying the spirits would see fit to bring her back. At night, I lay awake, trembling with fear, imagining every shadow was an evil presence, lurking and waiting to take me away, too.

  But no spirits came. And my mother never returned.

  “Yes.” Peterssen nodded thoughtfully. “That was likely an easier story for him to accept than the alternative.”

  “Which was…?” My heart pounded. Was I finally going to be told some truth about my mother? If she hadn’t been taken by spirits, that meant she could still be out there, somewhere.

  She could still be alive.

  But Peterssen only waved a hand. “I don’t know, Agnarr,” he said. But I could tell by his eyes that he did. Or at least he knew something, if not the full extent of the story.

  More secrets. Would I die buried in secrets?

  I shook my head, forcing myself back on task. My mother could wait for another day. “So, what do we do?” I asked. “We can’t very well fight against an imaginary force!”

  “No. But we can make the people feel safe. That’s our primary job.”

  I sighed. Ruling a kingdom was turning out to be a lot more difficult than I had imagined. No wonder my father had always been in such a grumpy mood. I wanted to do the right thing for Arendelle. But what that was, I wasn’t sure.

  I rose from my seat and started toward the exit. I was meant to meet Iduna in the village and I was already late. It was a big day for her—she’d finally saved up enough money from her windmill business to rent her own place—and she was getting the keys this afternoon. I was so proud of her and all she’d accomplished over the past few months. She’d been working tirelessly, putting in long hours, but it had paid off. I couldn’t wait to celebrate with her.

  Before I could get very far, however, Peterssen called to me.

  “Agnarr?” He shifted from foot to foot, suddenly looking nervous “There is…one thing you could do to satisfy the people.”

  “Really?” Hope stirred in my chest. “What is it?”

  “Next week,” he began, “we will have some visitors at the castle.”

  “Visitors?”

  “The king of Vassar.” Peterssen cleared his throat. “And his daughter, Runa.”

  My heart plummeted. I had hoped that my telling them to do what they wanted had been enough of a non-reaction that it had dissuaded the council from the idea of marriage. But evidently, it’d been in the works all this time.

  I’d just been too busy with Iduna to notice.

  “Do you really think now is a good time?” I asked, trying to keep my voice neutral. “I mean, there’s so much unrest. People choking, purple sheep…” My voice trailed off as I realized how ridiculous and desperate I sounded.

  “Oh, so you’re concerned about those sheep now, are you?” Peterssen’s mouth quirked. Then he gave me a fatherly smile. “It’s okay, Agnarr,” he assured me. “There’s nothing to be nervous about.”

  “Who said I was nervous?” I blurted out. “I just don’t need to meet anyone right now! I’m only nineteen.”

  “And soon you will be twenty, then twenty-one. You’ll be taking the throne, and it’s always better if there is already an heir lined up when that happens.”

  So not only was I expected to marry this stranger, but I was meant to procreate with her without delay. My stomach swam with nausea.

  “I don’t get any say in this at all?” I demanded. I knew I was not acting like the heir apparent, but I couldn’t help it. I didn’t want to meet anyone.

  Not when I already had Iduna.

  I knew from the start that Iduna and I could never marry. Royalty married royalty—that was how it was always done. And with the kingdom of Arendelle still fragile in the wake of my father’s death and Peterssen as regent, this was not the time to buck the trends. We needed trade partners. We needed allies. We needed an army.

  But I needed Iduna.

  I hadn’t meant to fall in love with her. But who could blame me? She was smart, kind, funny, and good. She was everything I ever wanted in a partner. A best friend, a true love. She made me laugh. She made my heart race.

  Life without Iduna?
<
br />   I couldn’t bear the thought.

  Peterssen sighed. “Agnarr, you asked how you could help your people feel safe. Well, Vassar is well known for its considerable army. An alliance with them would help us secure our harbors and farmlands. Make Arendelle safe.”

  “I’m fine with an alliance!” I protested. “But can’t we just make it into a trade deal or something? Why does it have to involve marriage?”

  “Because that’s how it’s done, Agnarr. That’s how they can ensure the deal between the two nations sticks. No one betrays their own family.” Peterssen walked over and put a hand on my shoulder. “Look, I know this is all scary and new. But when King Nicholas and his daughter arrive next week, I cannot have you standing there looking like a scared rabbit. It will suggest weakness. And we cannot afford to look weak right now.”

  “I know.” I groaned. “Conceal, don’t feel. Blah, blah, blah.”

  “Yes.” Peterssen’s gaze drilled into me. “If not for your own sake, then for the sake of your people. You don’t have to marry Princess Runa. But you must treat her with the respect due to a noble of a neighboring nation. If you do not—”

  “Of course I will,” I broke in, mostly to get the conversation over with. I felt like I was going to be sick. “Don’t worry about me.”

  “I always worry about you, Agnarr,” Peterssen said, patting me on the arm. “That is my job. But I also trust you. I know you care about Arendelle. And I know you will do the right thing.”

  “AND THESE WILL BE YOUR KEYS, DEAR.”

  I smiled distractedly as Mrs. Christiansen, a local woman who had offered up a cottage for rent, handed me a set of keys strung on a small metal loop. As I closed my hand around them, my eyes rose in the direction of the castle on the far side of town, then dropped to the empty street in front of us. A stirring of disappointment wound through my stomach.

  Where was Agnarr? He was supposed to be here for this. I knew he had a meeting earlier, but he’d promised to be here on time. He knew how important this was to me.