rooms, watching the hours tick by. Of course, her parents had found her playmates in their stewards’ and noblemen’s children, but it wasn’t the same as having a sibling to grow up with and confide in. This was a weight she kept to herself, never wanting to burden her parents with her feelings. Her mother had been unable to have more children after Elsa.
“Isn’t the sculpture of us lovely, Mama?” Elsa asked.
Her mother was standing quietly beside her. Elsa watched her blue eyes take in every inch of the bronze statue before she gave a deep, almost inaudible, sigh. When she glanced at Elsa, her eyes seemed sad. “It truly is,” she said, squeezing her daughter’s hand. “It’s a lovely portrait of our family and who we are. Isn’t it?” she added to the king.
For such a joyous occasion, her parents seemed slightly melancholy. Was it that the statue reflected a time when they were much younger? Were they sad to think how quickly time had passed? Her father was always talking about the day when she would take the throne, even though he was still a vibrant king. Elsa wondered what made them sad, but she kept her thoughts to herself. It wasn’t her place to question her parents in public.
“Yes, it is quite the honor,” Papa replied, and looked at Elsa. He seemed to want to say something more but held his tongue. “You should thank our subjects for coming, Elsa,” he said finally. “We’re hosting a dinner in Mr. Ludenburg’s honor back at the castle, so we must return and get ready to greet all our guests.”
“Yes, Papa,” Elsa said, and did as she was told.
“To Axel Ludenburg and his fine work!” the king said, holding his goblet high above the banquet table in the Great Hall. The other guests did the same.
“To Axel!” they shouted, and clinked glasses.
The food was plentiful, the company boisterous, and the seating at the long table at capacity. The king had asked Lord Peterssen, his most trusted friend, to join them at the celebration. Mr. Ludenburg’s family was there, too, having traveled by ship from the nation of Weselton, a longtime trade partner of Arendelle. The Duke of Weselton had come with them, and seated himself next to Elsa.
“And to Arendelle and Weselton!” the Duke added. He had a big mouth for such a small man. Elsa couldn’t help noticing he was at least a foot shorter than most guests at the table when he stood up. “Long may our countries grow together and prosper!”
“To Arendelle and Weselton!” everyone echoed.
Elsa clinked glasses with her mother.
“I’m so glad we finally have a chance to dine together,” the Duke said to Mama as the supper plates were taken away and the staff prepared to bring out dessert. “It is a pleasure to meet the princess and witness Arendelle’s bright future.” His brow furrowed. “I’ve long noticed she doesn’t come to many public events.”
Elsa politely returned his smile but said nothing. One of the roles of being a princess, as Mama kept reminding her, was to listen to people but wait to speak till something important needed to be said.
“Elsa is so busy with her studies that we haven’t asked her to join us on many public outings yet,” Mama told him, and looked at Mr. Ludenburg. “But of course, we couldn’t have her miss the unveiling of our family sculpture. That is what this whole evening is all about: family.”
Elsa covered her mouth to hide her smirk. Her mother had a knack for keeping conversations focused.
This was Elsa’s first time meeting the Duke of Weselton. Already she could tell she preferred the Duke of Blakeston, who had kind eyes and always came to the castle with pocketfuls of chocolate, which he snuck to the princess during particularly boring dinner discussions.
Correction: important negotiations. As her mother kept reminding her, she needed to be ready for the throne when her time came. These days she divided her time between lessons on handwriting, science, and statecraft with her governess, and Papa’s meetings. She was also now old enough to attend the banquets held at the castle, of which there were many. Gone were the days when she was trotted out to say hello to guests, then sent to another room to have supper. Life was less lonely, but she still longed for someone her own age to confide in. The days of hosting playmates were long over.