Chapter 4

Edvard hung his walking stick in the crook of his elbow and twirled her around. He was a very good dancer, Freja noticed, much better than Stellan, anyways. Although that was not hard. He appropriately kept her at arm's length.

They danced silently for a few minutes.

"So, your highness. Do you have any names picked for the child yet?"

"No," Freja lied.

"None at all? I've always liked the name Finley. It works for either a boy or girl."

Something sparked in Freya's memory at that name. She looked into Edvard's eyes, as her own widened. Of all the names he could have mentioned…

"You don't like it, do you?" Edvard said.

"No, well… I don't know. It just reminds me of someone I…"

"Ah, bad memories?"

Freja nodded cautiously.

Edvard's eyes narrowed. He clasped the queen's hand tightly in his, and her breath froze in her throat.

"You don't remember me at all, do you, your highness?"

Freja clamped her mouth shut. Those eyes, bright and golden, like the color of wheat, bore into her. Those eyes… they were so familiar…

"Finn?" she squeaked. She felt the room starting to spin. He squeezed her wrist tighter and she felt her pulse pounding in her palm. But other than that, she felt completely numb.

Edvard leaned in close to her face.

"So you do remember me? Hello, my dear Freja…"

Black spots appeared in her vision, growing and multiplying, until she couldn't see. With a soft gasp, Freja crumpled to the floor.

"Freja! Freja!" a voice was calling to her. Freja opened her eyes. She was in her room. Wait… no. She sat up and blinked. It was her room, but not her room in Arendelle. She looked at a mirror that hung on the wall next to her and saw a sixteen-year-old version of herself staring back.

"Freja!" the voice came again from outside the door, "Wake up! You've missed breakfast again!"

"Primrose?" Freja called.

"Who did you think it was?"

The door opened and a girl came in. She was a few years older than sixteen-year-old Freja and looked very much like her.

"Seriously, Freja. You're still in your nightgown! Mother is not going to be happy."

Primrose looked at her little sister, her eyes suddenly becoming worried. She placed a warm hand on Freja's arm."

"What's the matter?"

"I … I don't know… nothing, I guess."

Her sister watched her for another minute, then shrugged.

"Well, hurry up and get dressed. Everyone in Corona is coming to the ball tonight. There's a lot to do!"

Suddenly she was gone. Freja blinked, and suddenly she was dressed and standing by the open window, looking down into the courtyard. Below her, a teenage boy held out a rose crafted out of solid ice, grinning from ear to ear. And Freja smiled back.

"Finn!" she called, "It's lovely!"

She looked over her shoulder to make sure no one was coming, then motioned for the boy to climb up the vines that draped down the window. He willingly obliged. Swinging his leg over the window pane, he tossed the rose onto a nearby chair, grabbed Freja around the waist, and kissed her full on the mouth.

Giggling, Freja pulled back to look at the boy's face.

She screamed.

Edvard towered over her, his walking stick propped on his shoulder. His icy hands closed over the back of her neck.

Freja sat up, gasping for air and flailing her arms. She hit someone in what felt like a jaw, and whimpered.

"Freja!" came a voice, and she felt tears welling up. She struck out again, her eyes shut tightly.

"Freja!" said Stellan, "Wake up! Calm down!"

Her eyes popped open and she struggled to focus, but she recognized Stellan's face about a foot away from hers. She gasped and shuddered, grabbing him and pressing her face to his chest. His arms wrapped around her and she breathed into him."

"You fainted, Freja. Are you okay?"

Freja sat back and wrapped her arms protectively around her stomach. She wiped her eyes and inhaled deeply.

"Yes. Yes, I'm fine. Just a bad dream."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She didn't respond. Looking around, she saw that they were in an isolated hall connected to the ballroom. The door was ajar and Freja could just see a crowd of guests circled around a lone figure in a blue cloak.

"Edvard," she whispered.

"Yes, he was quite heroic actually. He carried you off the dance floor. Turns out, that's not all. He's also a magician. Kai must have invited him as an entertainer. He offered to distract the guests while you recovered."

Edvard smiling brilliantly as the crowd applauded. Then he raised his hands and wove them, and a beautiful ice chandelier emerged from the ceiling.