John stood in the city stables, checking the list on the first page of his notebook. This carriage had the royal seal on the side, which meant it must belong to someone from the royal family, but there were no guards, so likely a member of little importance.

He heard someone come inside, and quickly stashed his notebook into his coat pocket. A message boy ran straight to him, handing him a note. John handed a coin to the boy, who ran off satisfied.

The note was in Lars's familiar scrawl, with no code being used.

Miss Bjorgman wishes to leave, meet at the theater door.

John double checked that he'd written down the information on the carriage he'd been looking at. He'd likely see it around the city, and just because the owner wasn't important enough to have guards, didn't mean it wasn't worth checking further.

He went to their own carriage, or rather, the one they had been borrowing from the Corona embassy since they had arrived in the Southern Isles, and drove it back over to the opera theater.

"Are you here to pick someone up?" the man at the door asked him in French. The opera here was definitely the hub of the diplomatic social scene.

"I am here for the party from Corona," he told the man. At the embassy, he avoided speaking anything besides English, but elsewhere, it was better to speak French, and not let on that he could speak the local vernacular in the same accent as the royal family.

Lars was standing just inside the door, and hurried Inga inside the carriage. It was unclear if she was feeling unwell or if she was simply not happy with the task Lars had given to her.

The traffic was heavy and the streets were still wet from the earlier rain. John wouldn't be able to listen in on the conversation, but Lars would fill him in on anything he needed to know. The trip home from the opera took longer than usual, but eventually, he pulled up at the Corona Embassy. Lars gave him a quick hand signal to wait, and after Inga went inside, Lars came back out.

"Sorry to cut you short back there," Lars apologized, "did you learn anything?"

"Possibly the one we suspected," he told Lars, looking around for any of the staff.

"Do you really think-" Lars stopped as he heard the splash of someone stepping in a puddle, and the stable boy came around looking like he was forcing himself to act like he was just wandering over. "Hello, Nils, I'm sorry we've kept you waiting."

"Don't worry, Sir," Nils told him enthusiastically, "it's been very slow here recently, you know."

"Yes, indeed," Lars replied solemnly.

"I think the rain has stopped for now," John stated deliberately in English, looking directly at Lars.

"But it might rain more, we should get inside," Lars replied, nodding at him, then giving a quick wave to Nils, the stable hand, before going inside the embassy.

June 3rd, 1875

Dear Inga,

I can't believe Arianna is nine already! I shouldn't be surprised, since Billy is going to be ten this summer, but somehow I always forget how close in age Arianna is.

Lars is delaying some business in Washington a month or two so that he can be home all summer. We sometimes take the family down to Washington in the winter, but Lars is worried about malaria during the summer, so we stay up in Boston. He warned me that he'll probably be staying in Washington for several months, and might be traveling a bit, but the rest of us will be staying here.

I really wish I could say I'm shocked at what the gossip papers in Corona have been printing. The stories are beyond absurd, but that's the sort of thing that sells, unfortunately. My own sister Diana was writing to me about what she had heard, and I tried my best to correct her. I hate to speak ill of my own sister, but I'm rather glad I've been an ocean away from her for so long.

I've been asking Lars if we might travel back to Arendelle at some point, and he says perhaps next summer. If you'll be back in Corona then, of course we could travel there, instead.

Please let me know!

Love,

Elizabeth

Inga folded up the letter and placed it on her writing desk. When would she and Henry return to Corona? It had been nearly two years now since she had been to Corona. Of course, it wasn't like they needed her in Corona, but did they need her to be in Arendelle? It was hard to say. Henry was out in town this afternoon, so she would have to bring up the subject later.

There was a light knock at the door, drawing Inga's attention from the letter. She got up, leaving the letter laying open on the desk.

"Inga?" Sofia asked through the closed door.

Inga opened the door. Her sister was standing across from her, looking serious. Inga was suspicious, since her sister never seemed to take things very seriously. One thing Inga could say for her was that she didn't hide anything. Sofia was eighteen now, and of course her sister was a different person than she herself was, but Inga had the feeling that, even though no friends or family would say so, other people had the expectation that the next sister would get married at a similar age. Of course, Inga hadn't been much younger when she was horrified at expectations of marriage. Unlike Inga, though, Sofia simply didn't care.

"Is it dinner time already?" Inga asked.

"No, I just finished lunch," Sofia laughed. "I was wondering if you can help me with Mother's birthday party."

"I thought you did a good job of it last year," Inga told her.

"Well, you know I had Meibel's help, and she won't be back for another two weeks."

"Meibel helped with the party? Oh, of course she did."

"Mother tells me I shouldn't be so hard on you for forgetting something right after you had a baby," her sister said, frowning at her.

Inga took a deep breath. She should be helping with things if she was living here, but she still felt like she was simply visiting.

"Sofia, I do think you'd do well enough by yourself," Inga insisted. "Besides, what can I do at this point?"

Sofia glared at her.

Inga sighed and nodded, quickly turning to check herself in the mirror by the door. "Fine, would you like to go to the library?"

"That works for me. Mother has meetings all day, so we don't need to worry about spoiling the surprise."

"You really think she'll be surprised?"

"Oh, I think everyone knows she's just acting," Sofia laughed, "but sometimes I do wonder if she's actually surprised we keep doing this every year."

"So," Inga began, wanting to talk about something else for a bit, "what have you been doing with your spare time the last few weeks with Meibel out of town?"

"I do have other friends," Sofia retorted, before looking at Inga and sighing. "I've mostly been helping Marie with her studies."

"That's nice," Inga commented.

"Now it's your turn," Sofia smirked, "What have you been up to? I hardly ever see you without your children, and I don't think you're up to all the things that some of the papers from Corona say you are, at any rate, you're definitely too young to be my mother and I definitely remember seeing Mother pregnant with Linne-"

"That story?" Inga groaned. "Sofia, what are you doing reading those papers?"

"I noticed Kai once getting all of them from the foreign news shop a few years ago, and since then, I've always paid the newsboy to set one aside for me any time they're going to disappear."

"If you find the stories that interesting, just come with me the next time we go back to Corona. You can always find those papers for sale there."

"But that ruins the fun," Sofia grinned.

"Do you even study anymore?" Inga sighed.

"I'm pretty much done with studying, but I've read all the books I have to, if that's what you're worried about."

Inga shrugged. She wasn't sure what example she was trying to set with her sister, anyway. Perhaps her sister's prurient interests would keep her behavior in line.

They got to the library door, and Sofia hurried excitedly over to the table in the corner. "Ready to start?"

"Why not?" Inga replied.

Lars looked at his journal. He had just finished writing down the few important things from the opera that afternoon, and he was trying to decide if the whole thing was worth it at all. John had learned some things in the city stables, but there probably was nothing they could learn from the Portuguese ambassador or his wife. If they could make it back another week, perhaps Mrs. Holst would return to the opera. But Karl's ship was coming before the next matinee, and they needed to make a decision.

All of his notes were in code, but he was starting to wonder if there was any point to being so secretive. His brother's ship would arrive next week, and he needed to make sure that they were all on board and out of the Southern Isles. Provided they could get to a port with a working telegraph, then the proper officials from Corona could try to find Prince Henry and Ambassador Pincar through official diplomatic channels. Inga and James could be in a safe location, away from where they could be valuable targets. Part of him wanted to let Inga deal with the fallout of her secret departure on her own. After all, she had made their own departure that much more complicated.

He closed the journal and stared out the open window at the streets of the capital city. In some sense, he could claim the Southern Isles as his country, but there was nothing connecting him to this place, at least, nothing meaningful to him. He knew where that man was. John had told him, after all. Several of the brothers had moved to America many years before, and the youngest of them had joined them after a brief exile wandering the ends of the earth. As soon as he had confessed the truth about his birth to his wife Elizabeth, and she had discovered that Lars knew where his father was she had suggested that, perhaps, he should try getting in touch with this Hans. Of course, she hadn't really heard anything about him, but as she had once told him, how could he know if he disliked someone if he hadn't properly met? Still, she understood why it might be imprudent.

The wind blew some of the papers on his desk, and he quickly closed the windows before picking up the papers and putting them away. As he finished stacking the papers, he realized he heard the piano coming from the embassy parlor down below. He knew that John had never learned to play any instruments, and he was fairly certain that none of the embassy staff did. He walked down the stairs to find Inga slowly playing through a piano arrangement of some opera.

Inga was pausing to turn a page as he walked in, stopping completely when she saw him in the doorway.

"Sorry," she gasped, somewhat startled. "I didn't realize anyone was around. I thought I'd give this piece a try."

"You shouldn't have to apologize. You're not really a guest here, after all."

"Oh, right," she mumbled, looking at the corner of the page of music in an obvious attempt at avoiding eye contact.

Lars tried to think of something to say next. There were many things that he didn't know about her life in the last ten years that she wouldn't have shared in a letter, even as much as she shared with his wife. He wanted to ask her why she always seemed to be referring to Corona as if it were a foreign country, but thought better of it.

"Since when do you play piano?" Lars asked.

"I used to have lessons when I was a child," Inga explained, "but I ended up getting frustrated that Frederick was better than me without even trying. I started playing again a few years ago since it was… nevermind."

Lars nodded. He was fairly certain that she hadn't been playing to show off in Corona or anywhere else. "You're quite good, really."

"Thanks," she blushed, closing up the music. "I think I'll go back to my room now, if you'll excuse me."

"Of course." Lars didn't want to leave her feeling chased out, even if that wasn't his intention. "Dinner will be at seven, if you're hungry."

Inga gave a barely perceptible nod as she headed up the stairs.

Lars walked over to the piano, and glanced at the music. It was an arrangement of an older opera, and he realized it was one that Elizabeth's sisters had sometimes played at their home when he would pay visits to Elizabeth's family not long after they met. He knew that Elizabeth trusted him, and he hoped he earned that trust as much as he was able to.

The older children would be in school now, and his mother was there to help with the younger ones. Elizabeth could manage everything well, and they had more help now, anyway. They were fine.

"Lars! Karl! You're here!" the young Prince Henry shouted, running over to the brothers.

"Hello, Mrs. Nilsen," Princess Clothilde stated quickly, covering up her brother's neglect of the widowed Margit Nilsen.

"Hello, Mrs. Nilsen," Henry echoed.

"Hello, Hilde, hello Henry," Mrs. Nilsen greeted, having known the two since they were newborns.

Lars stood quietly with his brother. The royal family never said anything about the difference in position, but his mother made a point of saying how kind they were to them, and that they shouldn't brag about the attention their family got from the Crown Princess Rapunzel in particular.

"Father was just telling us about when he was in Arendelle, and, Mrs. Nilsen, you know the language," Hilde told them eagerly. "Father, what was the phrase you used? I didn't understand it."

"We don't need to repeat that," their father laughed nervously. "In fact, you shouldn't repeat that, either."

"Tell us later," Karl whispered to Henry.

"I'm going to go find Bertha in the kitchen," their mother announced, "Your Highness, please send someone for me if my boys aren't behaving."

"Not a problem, Mrs. Nilsen," their father assured her kindly as she headed inside the palace. "Now, kids, do you want to hear more about trolls?"

Anna and Kristoff looked at each other. Elsa had told them that she needed to speak with them when she had arrived. But with the children crowded around her, and the November weather was stealing her chance for distracting the children with snow, so talking was impossible. They had to make do with a few scattered moments of hushed statements.

"Kristoff was suggesting this morning that I could go pay Inga a visit at the spa she's been staying at," Anna whispered, hoping that Arianna in particular was out of earshot. "What do you think, Elsa?"

Elsa looked pointedly at Anna, frowning. "When we get a chance, I'll tell you what I know," she replied.

"What happened to not spying on people?" Kristoff snorted. Anna held her tongue, wondering if Kristoff really took her concerns about Inga seriously. Elsa wasn't going to all this trouble over some cheap newspaper stories, Anna felt sure of it.

"This is different," Elsa snapped. "I didn't ask to see this."

Anna swallowed hard and looked at Kristoff. Elsa, as far as they knew, always made an effort to avoid seeing secrets about the private lives of her family. She seemed to be fairly certain that there was something important going on, not a simple marital issue.

Anna didn't think it was something as tawdry as Henry or Inga sneaking around with others, the way the papers from Corona liked to speculate, but the thought had crossed her mind. The two had gotten married so young, and so perhaps they would eventually need to find the sort of arrangements some couples made to allow them to keep up appearances. That wouldn't be worth Elsa making a surprise visit, though.

Ariana came running over to Anna and hugged her.

"Mormor, can I come to dinner with Aunt Elsa tonight?" the little girl asked, looking up with her mother's eyes.

Anna sighed and looked at her sister. They would find time to talk properly. "Of course, sweetheart, of course we will."

Dinner was as enjoyable as it could be being preoccupied by something else. The children were chattering excitedly, so Anna could let them go on. Kristoff kept giving her meaningful glances, and she knew he wanted to know what her sister had come there to tell them as soon as possible. Elsa, for her part, looked like she was answering the children's questions, though their questions were always predictable.

"...right, Mama?" Linne asked. Anna hadn't been paying attention.

"I- I'm sure I agree with Elsa," she said, doing her best to play along with the conversation.

"What do you mean?" Sofia said incredulously.

"I'm sorry, I was thinking about something else," Anna confessed.

"Linne was just telling me that they're often out collecting clams at low tide," Elsa told her.

"Oh, yes, of course," Anna laughed nervously.

Anna needed to know what Elsa knew, and soon.

Inga got back upstairs, and quietly locked the door behind her. Playing the music on the piano hadn't really helped to calm her mind as much as she had hoped. She sat down on the bed, holding Henry's sketch book and leafing through once again, somehow hoping to see him walking through the door so she could ask him what some particularly ambiguous looking unlabeled sketch was supposed to be, or chastise him for drawing her like that in the book he took everywhere. Except he hadn't taken it everywhere with him. Did he know that something was going to happen? Or did he always leave it in the room when he went out on official business?

She hadn't traveled with him on his diplomatic trips. That had never been intentional, but the timing had never worked out. He still had never taken her to Lisbon. They would always talk about doing that "next year" or after this or that had been settled. She desperately wanted to tell him to forget next year or after things had settled, and just go. He had told her about things that children would enjoy. They would bring them along, of course. It wasn't like this trip of hers. This stupid, ill planned, impetuous trip of hers. She needed to get back home. But she wanted to find Henry. Where was he?

And how were the children doing? Arianna had noticed that something was wrong. Aggie wasn't that much younger, but was much more easily distracted by the family and everyone else spoiling him. Inga worried about Arianna more, though, since nobody else seemed to notice that anything was wrong. She had spoken in private, but in public, had appeared as blissfully ignorant as her brother Aggie. The younger two, well, they were too young to be very bothered. Still, she had never been away from them for more than a few hours. It was all she could do not to let it overwhelm her, along with everything else.

Perhaps she should just have dinner.

"Lars!" John called out from the back door of the kitchen.

"Hi, John, anything new?" Lars asked quietly as he closed the kitchen door almost completely, with just a small block of wood ensuring they wouldn't accidentally get locked out.

"Nothing since we got back from the theater. I've just been thinking about what you said, that maybe we need to look elsewhere. I still have some family in Charlotte-Amalie, some of them could come help out here, or travel elsewhere. You have your family. You need to get home to them. There's only so many stories you can tell Elizabeth before things start adding up."

"I'll tell her where I've been once I get home," Lars insisted.

"I told you I needed help, but this is turning into a bigger thing than I thought it would be. Once we get Inga somewhere safe and get in touch with Corona, you're coming with me on the first ship back to Boston or New York, and then I'm going down to the West Indies."

"Why not Louisiana?" Lars asked pointedly. "When did you last visit your mother?"

"You know who I'll see if I visit her."

"I know," Lars sighed. "Him."

"Elizabeth thinks you should go there, too, doesn't she? Come with me."

"What, you'll introduce me?" Lars muttered sardonically.

"Fine, I'll drop it, but some day you'll need to. Promise me that, and I promise I'll visit my mother."

"You rang, Your Highness?" James asked as she opened the door.

"Yes, thank you, James," Inga replied. "Please, come in."

"What do you need?"

"I was wondering… are you familiar with this sketch book of Henry's?" she inquired, tapping the sketch book, which she held closed.

"I do recognize it, yes. If you're wondering, I don't look inside. Henry has asked that favor very specifically from me."

"Oh, um, yes, thank you, that's good to know," she mumbled. "Do you know if he made a habit of taking the book with him when he went out? Or did he generally leave it in the room when he went out?"

"He usually took the book with him, but the last several meetings, he started leaving it here when he had meetings with officials and members of the royal family of the Southern Isles."

"Did he tell you why?"

"He kept vague, I suspect now to protect me, but he mentioned that he didn't like where the meetings were heading."

"Is this about all the marriage offers? Because John and Lars already told me about that," Inga told him.

"Well, that was one of the things that bothered him, but they also seemed to think they could make the stories from the newspapers and other rumors work to their advantage."

"Which stories?" Inga asked, somehow never able to check her curiosity, as much as she hated knowing what was going on in people's imaginations.

"He refused to go into very much detail, but he did say something about having to endure hearing his family insulted."

"Oh, I see," Inga sighed. That could mean just about anything, but now she was at the end of what she could bear thinking about.

James stood silently for a moment at the door before saying anything. "Is there anything else you would like to ask me right now?"

Inga shook her head. "Mr. Nilsen told me that dinner would be soon, so I think I'll be ringing for the maid. Thank you, James."

John walked into the servant's hall of the Corona embassy. An early dinner was being served. He usually didn't join them, but he felt it was time to listen in a little more.

"Hello," he said. Everyone assumed he only knew English, so he needed to keep up the facade. St. Thomas, where he was born and lived the early part of his childhood, mostly spoke the same language as the Southern Isles, and he could understand the servants' chatter perfectly well. All the better, of course, if they didn't think he understood them.

"Hello," said the maid who knew a little bit of English. "How are you, John?"

"Good, Adele, how about you?"

"I am good, thank you," she replied.

"I heard the cook was serving roast pork tonight, and it sounds wonderful."

"Ah, yes, the pork. Dinner is pork," she confirmed, having reached the limit of her English ability, returning to her conversation with the others.

He kept a blank face, leaning back against the wall as he eavesdropped.

"Did he say anything about the princess?" one of the stable hands asked Adele.

"I told you," she muttered, "my English is not very good. I only studied for a year, and that was ten years ago. Besides, my teacher was from London. I can barely understand Americans."

"Look," a footman added, "I will split the money I am getting if you can tell me anything he knows. I tell you, that princess knows him. He knows something."

John realized too late that he was looking nervous listening to them.

"Hey, are you two sure that fellow does not understand us?" one of the footmen asked, glancing in John's direction.

John looked at the kitchen. "That pork roast sure does smell good, don't you think?" he said very deliberately in English.

"See," snapped Adele, "he is just here for the food."

"Fine, fine, I just-" the footman stopped himself a moment, suddenly looking pleased with himself. "Nils, isn't your sister working at the American Embassy? Maybe she can bring someone who speaks English over here. They would both get a cut."

Nils looks up. In the short time he'd been here, John had learned that Nils was young, just moved in from the countryside, and he had an older brother who worked for the Maldonian embassy. It seemed that the whole family worked for the embassies.

"I can ask," Nils agreed, "but she has a lot of work, and it would be odd if someone came over without someone who knows someone here."

"Let us know when she will be coming," the footman ordered.

The cook brought out their meal just then, and everyone ate silently.

"John?" Adele was standing behind him. "You finish?"

John looked down at his plate, and it was empty. Most of the others had gotten up already.

"Yes, I am. It was exc- it was very good," he said, remembering to keep his words simple for her.

"I take the plate?" she asked him.

"Yes, thank you," he replied, getting up. He would need to find Lars tonight.

Lars sat alone in the dining room until the footman brought him his dinner. This was the one that John said was definitely getting money from someone to spy on him. So far, from what John had been able to overhear, there were no clues about his origins.

It seemed like Inga should be coming to dinner, but perhaps she wasn't feeling well. He would check in with James after dinner. For now, Lars had more time to himself to think.

There had been some speculation in the servant's hall that Lars's selection to be ambassador had been related to the marriage of Prince Henry-after all, Lars had been selected for the position shortly after the prince and princess had first met, so that would only make sense, they told each other.

He played along with that. It was a logical enough story-the marriage negotiations for a prince and princess were mysterious things, after all. The friend of the prince getting a comfortable position paid by Arenelle, and the brother of the princess attending the Naval Academy in Corona. All of those things seemed to make sense to the staff here.

He could go along with that explanation. He had a comfortable position thanks to his connection to Prince Henry. It made Inga and Henry's marriage sound arranged, but they were the only two who seemed bothered by that. It made sense as a political arrangement, and any other gossip could be ignored.

The door to the kitchen opened, catching his attention, and John came in with a bottle of wine.

"The finest Corona vintage," John announced before the door closed.

Lars eyed the bottle. "Actually, I think I will have some, thanks."

John poured a glass for Lars before checking the door behind him again.

"How is everything, Lars?"

"I'm a bit preoccupied, that's all," Lars admitted.

"Who wouldn't be?" John shrugged.

A swish of silk from the main hall alerted them that someone else had entered the room, and they both turned to see that Inga had arrived.

"Good evening," she greeted them, "sorry I'm late."

"Not very late," Lars assured her, "but the footman brought my food a little early. I can ring for him again, if you like."

"Thank you, I think I might like something. John, have you eaten?"

"I had dinner in the servant's hall," he explained, then looking at Lars. "It was enlightening, but I think I'll head upstairs for now. Good night, Lars, Inga."

Inga sat down as John went back through the kitchen door in order to use the staff stairs.

"How are you doing?" Lars asked, not sure what else to ask.

"Fine, thank you," Inga replied curtly, not seeming to be interested in further conversation, but she could have gotten dinner in her room, and Lars wanted to try to learn more.

"Is Frederick still playing piano?" Lars asked, remembering Inga's bringing up her brother earlier.

"I suppose when he's at home," Inga replied, looking pensive, "He did take the piano with him when he moved out, though I assume Meibel plays more nowadays. My sister Sofia goes over there to play most days…"

Lars waited to see if Inga was going to say anything more.

"I'm happy to hear he's been well," Lars added after a moment.

"He's a captain now."

"I know. You've reminded me yourself that I'm on Arendelle's payroll, and I'm kept up to date on official information," Lars reminded her. "And it was nice to learn about his wedding before it was announced in the newspapers."

"Oh, of course," Inga replied, looking down at her plate and shift

"I suppose he's too busy to keep up with social letters now?"

"What? Oh, I… I suppose so. I haven't asked him."

"He used to write to me," Lars said, not sure why he was now mentioning things that were probably well known, "back when I first moved to Boston. He wrote for several years, actually. I miss that."

"I'll be sure to tell him," Inga smiled. "I think he should write to you."