Elsa had gotten very good at sneaking around the castle after dark.
She looked forward to her little nighttime routine, enjoying the freedom of roaming around the dim, echoing hallways, the silvery moonlight illuminating the ornate rugs beneath her stocking feet as she padded along. She wasn't afraid of the castle at night. She had read in one of her storybooks of a thief who broke stealthily into houses after dark, walking near the walls to prevent the floorboards from creaking. Of course, the castle floors were made of stone, but Elsa liked to hug the walls anyway as she ghosted along, pretending that she was about to be discovered and captured. I'm more dangerous than a thief, anyway.
She knew that Gerda, her favorite maid, was aware of her nighttime wanderings, because there was always a snack left out for Elsa on the rugged table in the kitchens – some crusty bread and a few slices of sharp orange cheese, or, if she was lucky, a blackberry tart left over from dinner. On rare occasions, in the springtime, Gerda would leave the fourteen-year-old princess a crown of flowers next to the snack, a fragrant circle lovingly woven from tiny white or purple blossoms from the castle grounds. Elsa saved all of Gerda's little gifts, pressing them firmly between the pages of her thickest books until they dried into fragile, pale versions of their former selves.
On this particular night, Elsa was lying in her large, four-poster bed, quietly reading aloud to her favorite doll from a dusty old book that she'd nabbed from the castle library on the previous night's stroll. Her black satin gloves lay discarded on the floor beside her bed; they'd only gotten in the way as she was turning the pages, and eventually she'd stripped them off with an exasperated huff. She didn't understand why her parents made her wear them when she was alone in her room anyway. She didn't think she could hurt herself. Not with her ice powers, anyway.
She only looked up when she heard the grandfather clock in the portrait room begin to chime.
"Ten…eleven…twelve," Elsa counted the peals of the clock under her breath, slowly swinging her legs out from under her heavy quilt. "The witching hour," she whispered solemnly to her doll, Lissy, a porcelain beauty with red hair and a stiff green dress. You're getting too old to talk to dolls. Taking Lissy-doll in one arm, she tiptoed over to her latticed bedroom window and kneeled on the padded window seat, fingers gripping the sill.
Her eyes were drawn to a movement below. She squinted down at the dark, verdant grounds from her second-story perch at the shadowy patch that was moving toward the castle. "Gerda?" she muttered to herself, recognizing the woman's upright posture and careful gait. What is she doing out there?
Dropping Lissy-doll unceremoniously on the bench, Elsa scampered over to her bedside table and blew out the candle before hurrying back to the window.
Yes, that was definitely Gerda out front, hurrying along the path with…a little girl? Elsa squinted harder, hands and forehead pressed against the cool glass. The girl looked about Elsa's age, and she had hair that was so red Elsa could see it – albeit dimly – through the dark. She has Lissy hair! Why can't mine look like that?
Suddenly the king and queen appeared below, apparently having been waiting for Gerda just inside the front door. They hustled outside, glancing furtively about, and urged Gerda and the girl around the side of the castle. Elsa watched them go, craning her neck, until they slipped out of sight.
"Shoot," she whispered, and slid off the bench. "Stay there, Lissy!" She hurried to her bedroom door, cracked it open carefully and listened before slipping out into the dark, silent hallway. Be careful careful careful careful—
"Get her in here next to the fire."
Elsa heard her mother's soft voice directing Gerda and the mysterious redheaded girl around the basement kitchen. She'd run down several passages, finally reaching the stairs to the lower quarters, where the kitchens and other staff rooms were located. Taking the stairs two at a time, she'd halted at the bottom and tiptoed down the windowless hallway. She was standing with her back against the wall, holding her breath outside the swinging kitchen door.
There was some rustling, a few footsteps, and the sound of a stool being dragged across the flagstones.
"Oof." Elsa heard the girl's small voice as she was plunked down on the stool.
"How are you feeling, honey?" Gerda said quietly.
She's sure fussing over her a lot.
"Okay," the girl said timidly. Her voice was high and sweet. Elsa wondered hopefully if she was a new kitchen maid – her parents very rarely hired new staff members, and Elsa's only real friend in the castle was Gerda. Maybe I'll get to talk to her. But where are her parents?
"Do you want something to eat? Here, I've got a snack right here." Elsa heard Gerda's footsteps approach the kitchen table.
My snack! Elsa pouted but kept quiet outside the door.
"You'll take it from here, Gerda?" Elsa's mother's voice was quiet and serious, and Elsa had to strain to hear it.
"Yes, your majesty," Gerda said.
"I still don't think—" The king paused midsentence and grunted. Elsa imagined her mother had just placed a soothing hand on the crook of his elbow. He cleared his throat. "You'll remember what we talked about," her father continued. "It's to be kept secret. You'll tell us if there are any—accidents. But no one else is to know. Especially not Princess Elsa."
"Of course," Gerda said.
"Good night, then, and Anna, welcome to the palace," the queen said gently.
Anna.
"Excuse me, your majesties—" Gerda cleared her throat.
"Yes, Gerda?"
"It's—well, it's good of you to take her in. I just—I couldn't bear the thought of what might befall her, were she out there on her own. She's so young. If someone had—discovered her…"
Discovered her? Elsa's breath quickened, and she felt the familiar tendrils of icy anxiety begin to creep their way up from her stomach and into her chest. Guilt for intruding on this secret conversation filled her insides like a balloon. You shouldn't be here. Get back to your room, stupid! Quick quick quick!
Nearly paralyzed now with the fear that the walls would begin to freeze around her and someone would open the kitchen door to catch her snooping, Elsa turned and fled on her toes back down the hallway, holding her nightgown up as she ran, her feet leaving small patches of frost against the dusty stone floor where they landed. She held her breath until she was nearly bursting with it, afraid to let it out lest one of her parents hear and become angry with her. She was trying so hard to be good.