Tears stung the backs of Anna’s eyes. She hadn’t believed him. Mostly because she had not believed in herself. It was so much easier to see the talents and abilities of others even as she discounted her own gifts.

  Anna sank into a chair by the window that overlooked the courtyard, decorated with cornstalk scarecrows and hay bales piled high with lemon-yellow gourds and plump pumpkins. Just beyond, the village bustled with activity as the people prepared for the coming festival, and to the north, the mountains rose in a brilliant conflagration of flaming trees, a brisk wind waving their leaves in a last dance to show off their gowns of fiery foliage. Farther up stood the icy crags. Anna’s chest tightened with longing for her best friend and sister. She didn’t see Elsa nearly as much as she would like.

  Perhaps if Mama and Papa and Elsa were there, Anna would not feel so nervous about whether the people of Arendelle would embrace the new trade deal with the Southern Isles.

  With a loud sigh, she leaned against the sill and pressed her forehead to the cool glass as she peered to the east, where she could just make out the reflection of the sun on the crystalline waters of the harbor.

  Father had loved the sea. A stab of grief wrenched Anna’s heart at the thought of him and Mama losing their lives in the treacherous waters. Anna had tried hard over the years to tame her vivid imagination and not envision the ship tossed like a toy on monstrous waves, splintered to ribbons, her parents clinging to each another as they were swallowed by the fathomless deep.

  At least they had been together, and still were. Her soul refused to believe otherwise.

  Anna smiled. If Papa could see her now, he would be so proud.

  That was when it all came rushing back to her: the exact day that she had glimpsed herself through her father’s eyes…

  “Anna, can you play a little quieter? I need to focus on this document,” King Agnarr asked his nine-year-old daughter.

  Anna sat on the floor of her father’s office with dolls spread around her in various poses as she acted out a drama of adventure and romance. “But, Papa, Princess Regina has just found the location of the Devil’s Eye diamond, and it’s in Prince Handsome’s kingdom! She’s terribly excited.”

  The king peered over the side of his desk and lifted an amused brow. “Prince Handsome, eh? Is that the best you can come up with?”

  Anna giggled and lifted her only male doll, brushing back the strands of his golden hair as she gazed into his blue glass eyes. “But he is quite handsome.”

  “Which is all well and good. But you are a princess, and you’re old enough to look for other qualities in a love interest,” Papa said with mock sternness.

  Anna pressed her lips together in a half frown. In all the good fairy tales, the princes had gorgeous hair, fine eyes, and debonair charm. They always dressed in tailored suits befitting their station or uniforms dripping with medals. “What other qualities?” she asked.

  “Well”—Papa turned to face her, resting his elbows on his knees—“your future husband should be brave and kind. He should respect your wishes and protect you with his life.”

  Anna set down her doll and leaned back on her hands, listening intently. It felt so good to have Papa’s full attention that she wanted to soak up every moment. “Go on,” she encouraged.

  The king tapped his chin. “He should be loyal and love you above all others.”

  “Like you love Mama?” She sighed dreamily.

  “Yes,” Papa answered with a decisive nod.

  “Shouldn’t we also like all the same things? Like exploring nature and building snowmen and eating extra-tall sandwiches?” Anna spanned her arms to demonstrate all the meats and cheeses and pickles and delicious food that she could stuff between two slices of bread.

  Papa chuckled. “Perhaps.”

  He grew silent and cocked his head as he watched her. “I think, most importantly for you, he will need to have an indomitable will.”

  “Abominable?” Anna scrunched one eye. She had heard tales of an abominable snow monster who lived high in the mountains and liked to eat children for breakfast. She shuddered.

  The king laughed. “No, darling, in-dom-i-ta-ble. It means dauntless and strong.”

  Anna folded her legs and propped her chin on her fists. “Why do you think I need someone in-dom-it-able?”

  Papa reached out and brushed aside the strand of hair that was always falling in her eyes. “Because, dear one, you need someone who can keep up with you. Someone who will not cower in the face of your irrepressible spirit.”

  Irrepressible spirit? As in stubborn and willful as a mule? She’d heard similar things uttered about her ever since she could remember. Like when Mother had taught her how to speak French, and Anna had spoken the language nonstop for a month. Mama had complained that Anna’s pronunciation was atrocious, and Anna had insisted that she was creating her own unique dialect. That was when Mother had muttered something about loving her despite her inheriting her father’s bullheadedness. But Anna took pride in her perseverance. Giving up was most definitely not her style.

  However, that trait in a future beau didn’t seem in the least romantic.

  “But, Papa—”

  A knock sounded on the door, and Father called for them to enter.

  “Your Majesty.”

  Anna turned to find the housekeeper wringing her hands in the open doorway.

  “There’s been another incident… er…” The housekeeper’s gaze shifted down to Anna, then back to the king. “Princess Elsa needs you, sir.”

  The king stood and rushed toward the door.

  Anna hopped to her feet. “Papa, can I come, too?”

  Her father glanced back. “No, Anna, not this time.”

  “But I want to help!” She always wanted to help. Instead, she always seemed to be in someone’s way. She could prove that she could be helpful!

  She rushed forward and grabbed Papa’s large hand. Time with her father was so rare. He was always busy running off to solve some problem or help others.

  “I promise I won’t get in the way.” Papa looked down at her, and Anna stared up at him with wide eyes.

  His gaze softened upon her, and a tiny smile tugged up the corner of his mouth.

  Certain that she had won, Anna offered her biggest grin.

  But then Papa’s brows lowered. “Not this time, darling.”

  “When will you be back?” Anna asked, her lip jutting out in a pout.

  “I don’t know. You should go find your mother. I’m sure she can give you something useful to do.”

  Anna squeezed his hand harder, silently begging him not to go.

  Carefully he tugged his fingers out of her grasp. “I must go help your sister. I’ll see you at dinner.”

  Anna’s shoulders drooped as she watched him walk out the door.

  Anna raced down the corridor on her bike, the breeze blowing back her hair as she broke through shafts of golden sunlight that shimmered like dancing fairies. If she made it to the kitchen in time, there might be waffles left over from breakfast.

  She passed a set of open doors, the sound of melodic humming drifting through the air.

  Anna swung her bike around and skidded to a halt, setting one foot on the marble floor as she stared into her mother’s sewing room. Mama sat near the hearth, chestnut hair pinned back in a messy bun as she worked knitting needles through azure-colored yarn. Anna had heard the furious clacking all the way down the hall.

  Mama spent most every day making blankets and mittens and clothing for the elderly and the sick. She always said it was the best way to use her talents to care for others while the castle was shut off to visitors. A situation Anna had stopped asking questions about long ago. Sometimes Father and Mother went out. But besides their few loyal servants, no one ever came in.

  Anna’s gaze darted to rolls of fabric, tissue paper patterns, scissors, and measuring tapes on a table near her mother’s elbow. There were baskets heaped full of yarn balls and a wooden rack that contained thread in every color of the rainbow. Sweaters embroidered with tiny reindeer, kissing birds, and rows of snowflakes hung on a rod, ready for delivery. Three sewing machines sat unused against the wall. Mama didn’t have as much help in her charitable efforts since they had dismissed half the servants. It seemed she would never finish all the work she had laid out for herself.

  Papa had said to find something useful to do. Anna should really help Mama. She’d already lapped the first floor of the castle four times, and her stomach growled. But luncheon was more than an hour away!

  Anna lifted her foot back onto the bike pedal. She could grab a waffle and bring her mother one, too. But as she started to ride, she found herself pedaling toward Mama instead of away. Visions of Mama singing her praises to Father at dinner propelled Anna into the sewing room.

  “Hello, dear.” Mama beckoned. “Come in!”

  Anna grinned and rode inside. Perhaps she was needed after all. She leaned her bike against the wall, ran over, and gave her mother a hug. Then she stood straight as a soldier and clicked her heels. “Princess Anna reporting for duty!”

  “Duty?” her mother chuckled.

  “Yes, I’m here to help. Put me to work!”

  Anna didn’t miss that her mother nibbled on her top lip. It was something Mama did when she needed time to think. Anna’s heart dropped. She didn’t have the best sewing skills. But she was willing to learn. Maybe she would find that she was amazing at sewing. The best in the land!

  There had to be something she was good at.

  “I’ll listen, Mama. I promise!”

  “All right.” Her mother offered a gentle smile and patted the sofa cushion. “Sit next to me and I’ll show you what to do.”

  After a flurry of instructions, Anna began sewing together soft woolen fabric to create a sock.

  “Make the stitches as small and close to the edges as possible. Once you’re finished, we will turn the sock inside out so those stitches will be on the inside.”

  “Got it!” Anna stuck her tongue out to the side and screwed up one eye, focusing all her attention on her work. “When I’m finished, can I give these stockings to Papa?”

  “There’s a slight problem with that,” Mama said pragmatically.

  Anna clamped the needle between her teeth and raised the attached pieces of fabric. “Oh!” she said out of the side of her mouth. “These would never fit Papa. His feet are as big as shovels!”

  Her mother’s laughter sounded like light skipping across a babbling stream.

  Anna stopped to stare at her beautiful mama, praying one day she might become a tenth as lovely.

  When Mama’s mirth had subsided, she wrapped an arm around Anna and squeezed her close. “You are the delight of my life, little one. But let’s not tell your father the part about the shovels.”

  “Yes, Mama,” Anna said with a contented sigh. She could’ve stayed tucked against her mother’s warm side, breathing in her powdery scent, for the rest of the day. But the socks would not sew themselves, so she set about her task with singular focus. Maybe if she finished quickly enough, Olina would make her a fresh waffle.

  After what felt like hours, Anna finished stitching the edges of the fabric together. “Ta-da!” But when she lifted the completed sock, the blanket her mother was knitting rose with it. Realizing that she had accidentally sewn the sock to her mother’s beautiful creation, Anna shrieked and jumped to her feet. As she did, her foot caught in a loop of yarn and she tumbled to the side, knocking her mother’s sewing kit into the air.

  Anna reached out to catch it too late as dozens of needles, straight pins, and bobbins of thread flew into the air, then crashed to the floor, rolling in all directions. “Oh no!”

  When the cacophony of plinking sounds finally stopped, Mother frowned and shook her head.

  Anna’s throat squeezed.

  Mama painted on a smile and sighed. “It’s fine, dear. Just pick everything up and I’ll work on detaching your sock.”

  “I’m sorry, Mama.” Anna’s shoulder’s slumped. So much for being the best seamstress in the land.

  “It’s fine, dear. No harm done.”

  On hands and knees, Anna crawled around the floor cleaning up the enormous mess she’d made. It was a common predicament she found herself in—making up for the chaos she seemed to create everywhere she went. Apologizing for some tangle or another.

  She picked up a needle and accidentally pricked her finger. Her eyes stung as she sucked away the drop of blood. Yet it wasn’t the pain of the stick but the throb in her chest that hurt; the disappointment that she had discovered another thing she wasn’t good at.

  Anna trudged down the corridor toward her bedroom. After lunch her mother had suggested that Anna take a rest. Not a nap, although Anna was certain that was what she’d meant. Not as a punishment, Mama had clarified—although being banished from the sewing room felt like a direct result of her clumsy mistake.

  If Anna had crafted the most beautiful sock, and not sewn it to her mother’s blanket, and not knocked the sewing kit into the air and watched it explode like fireworks, Mama would still want her help.

  Elsa had always been good at dancing and playing the piano and sewing. Her sister’s calm and focus allowed her to master any skill she set her mind to. At least that was how she used to be. Ever since Elsa had gotten sick, Anna had not been allowed to see her. She didn’t know for certain what was wrong with Elsa—Mama and Papa would never say—but what other explanation could there be?

  Anna had imagined all sorts of horrid illnesses that Elsa could have: pox that covered her from head to toe in enormous welts, a virus that turned her skin purple and her hair blue, a wasting disease, the putrid throat, or the worst of the lot, hippofanatitis. She’d overheard a delivery boy talking about it in the courtyard one afternoon. He’d sworn that when he had spied Elsa through the window, she’d grown an enormous snout and her ears had migrated to the top of her head.

  Anna shuddered at the thought.

  But what was she supposed to think when her parents refused to discuss it?

  It had to be something so horrendous that they didn’t want to frighten Anna with the details.

  Anna let out a hard sigh and stopped in front of Elsa’s locked doors. At first, she’d visited her sister every day, sometimes sitting outside her room for hours or sleeping there at night. She would sing, tell stories, beg Elsa to come out even if they didn’t tell their parents. She had insisted that whatever disease Elsa had, she wanted it, too.

  Once, Anna had wrapped her entire body in strips of leather fabric with only tiny holes for her nose and eyes. She’d looked like a mummy and walked like one, too. Anna had figured if she covered every bit of her skin, she would not catch whatever Elsa had. She had assured Elsa that it would be safe for her to come in. Unfortunately, Papa had come along before Anna could convince Elsa to open the door.

  Anna knocked three times. “Elsa? It’s me, Anna.”

  “I know who it is,” Elsa answered gravely.

  Anna jumped at her sister’s voice and then rushed forward, pressing her mouth to the hairline crack between the doors. “How did you know I was out here?”

  “You were stomping your feet as you walked.” As usual, Elsa sounded older than her twelve years.

  “Was not!” Anna insisted with a pout.

  “What’s wrong, Anna?” Elsa asked with a long sigh.

  Anna leaned her forehead against the door. “I was worried about you. Papa rushed off earlier.…”

  Anna heard a thump and knew Elsa was leaning against the other side. Anna could almost smell her sister’s fresh scent, like crystallized vanilla and crisp winter winds.

  “I’m fine,” Elsa huffed.

  Anna could feel her sister’s frustration. It hurt, being shut out by her best friend. But she got the feeling it was out of Elsa’s control. “I miss you, Elsa. You’re like the peanut butter to my jelly. The ham to my cheese.”

  Was that a laugh Anna heard through the door?

  She pressed her face to the gap. When she only heard silence, she whispered, “I’m lost without you.”

  “No, Anna. You’re better off without me.… I would only—”

  “You would only what? Elsa, talk to me!”

  An icy chill permeated the wood, and Anna stepped back. Elsa must have walked away and opened a window. Anna hung her head and spoke into the silence. “At least when we were together, I could cheer you up. It was the one thing I was good at.”

  “What are you good at, dear one?” a deep voice asked, making Anna whirl to find her father approaching, head cocked to the side, eyes searching as he awaited her reply.

  Anna supposed it wouldn’t hurt to tell the truth. “I could always make Elsa happy. Make her laugh, even when she was sad.”

  Papa smiled but his eyes were far away as he said, “You could make a polar bear laugh, Anna.” He looked at her, then, “I’ve come to ask if you would accompany me to the harbor. There’s a bit of business I need to take care of with a merchant captain.”

  Anna’s heart cartwheeled in her chest. “Me? You want me to come with you?”

  Bemused, the king replied, “Yes, Anna. Your mother and I think it would do you good to get out of the castle. Would you like to come? I have a horse saddled for you.”

  Anna jumped up and pumped her fist in the air. “Yes, yes, yes!”

  The harbor had always felt like a magical place to Anna. She rode beside her father through the courtyard, past the castle gates, and up to a landscape of glittering blue water and crisscrossing bridges. Sailors in short pants and caps, some with ink circling their arms, bustled around the docks unloading heavy crates of cargo and piling them into wagons. Fishermen hefted buckets of fresh fish to sell at the market, and others scurried to load supplies onto a glorious ship tied to the longest pier.