HANS STOOD IN THE shadowed hallway just outside the council chamber and watched. Inside, the dignitaries, representatives, and various other royalty had gathered to await his return. But he wasn’t quite ready to make his entrance. Not yet at least.

After leaving Anna to freeze, Hans had walked through the castle, gathering his thoughts. Much hinged on how the next few moments played out. After acting the part of the loving, doting fiancé for the past forty-eight hours, he knew it would not be difficult to feign sadness when he announced Anna’s tragic death. What would be difficult was not appearing too eager to step up and take over the throne. He would need to seem distraught, angry, and of course, a little bit frightened. Otherwise, the others might find him suspicious. And that was the last thing he needed.

What he needed now was to make his story believable. When everyone was convinced of him, he would make sure Anna was gone and deal with Elsa. With both sisters out of the way, his path would be clear. He would be king of Arendelle and he would never, ever have to return to the Southern Isles. He would never again have to suffer humiliation at the hands of his brothers or his father.

Now, as he stood outside the chamber, biding his time before his grand entrance, he was amazed at how well everything had come together. Given the fact that he’d had only the barest of plans upon arriving in Arendelle, the end result was something of a miracle. True, he’d had to lie, manipulate, and con his way to this point, but that was just part of the game. And it turned out he played the game very, very well.

He could see that the men inside were growing restless. It was almost time. Pacing back and forth in front of the blazing fire, the Eldoran dignitary wrung his hands nervously. “It has been too long,” he said. “Why has Prince Hans not returned?”

“I imagine he and the princess have much to discuss. And she was in no condition to speak when we saw her,” the lord of Kongsberg pointed out. Compared to the others, he seemed untouched by the cold. He sat, legs crossed, on a large wingback chair. A book lay open in his lap. But, Hans noticed as he observed the goings-on, the lord hadn’t turned the page once. It was the only indication of his nerves. Looking over at the Eldoran dignitary, he added, “The prince has everything in hand, I’m sure. We just need to be patient.”

“But it’s getting colder by the minute,” the Duke of Weselton pointed out. “If we don’t do something soon, we’ll all freeze to death.”

Leave it to the weasel to stir the pot, Hans thought. It was time to step inside, before the Duke could start trouble. Straightening his shoulders and lifting his head, Hans wiped the smug smile off his face and replaced it with a look of distress. Time to start the final act.

Pushing the door open wider, Hans stepped into the council chamber. All heads swiveled at his arrival.

“Prince Hans,” the Blavenian dignitary said, taking a step forward.

Hans held up a hand, as though the thought of human contact were too painful for him at that moment. Sighing dramatically, he placed his own hand on his heart. “Princess Anna is…” He pretended to struggle to get the words out. “Dead,” he finally said. For effect, he stumbled, as if overcome with grief.

As several of the men helped him to a chair, Hans did his best to appear the heartbroken fiancé. Biting the inside of his cheek brought tears to his eyes, and a well-timed shudder made him look like he was holding back sobs.

“What happened to her?” the Duke asked.

Hans was surprised to hear no suspicion in the Duke’s voice. His confidence growing, Hans paused before answering, building the tension. Everything hinged on what he was about to say and how it would be received. “She was killed…by Queen Elsa.” He paused again as the chamber filled with gasps. He nodded sadly, letting the tears well up even more. The inside of his cheek was going to be a mess later, but it would be worth it. Especially when he added the next little gem. This one he had come up with even before leaving Anna. It was, he realized then, the only way to ensure his success. “At least,” he said, laying the emotion on thick, “we got to say our marriage vows…before she died in my arms.” As if the announcement were too much, he hung his head in his hands and let the tears fall.

“There can be no doubt now,” the Duke of Weselton said, his voice serious. “Queen Elsa is a monster and we are all in grave danger.”

Beside him, the Blavenian dignitary nodded. “Prince Hans, Arendelle looks to you.”

Hans stifled the smile that threatened to spread across his face. His brilliant display of grief had worked! Raising his head slowly, Hans looked around the room. Prince Wils’s usually cheerful expression had been replaced by a look of abject worry. The Eldoran dignitary was wringing his hands so hard that it seemed he might rip them off altogether. Even the lord of Kongsberg was finally showing some emotion. While apparently not as distressed as the others, his face had turned distinctly paler. A few of the younger representatives looked almost sick with fear, and Hans heard one of them mumble to the man next to him, “What is he going to do now?”

Pushing himself off his chair, Hans wiped his cheek dramatically. This was his moment. “With a heavy heart,” he said in his most somber of voices, “I charge Queen Elsa of Arendelle with treason and sentence her—to death.”

Despite his bold words earlier, as Hans led the others toward Elsa’s cell, he felt a nagging doubt at the back of his mind. He was reluctant to kill the queen. He was sure Anna would be happy to call him many things—a cad, a scoundrel, and a liar, to name a few—but he was not, and had never been, a murderer. Murdering painted you into a corner. It took away your options and made you a brute. He hated not having options, and he refused to be a brute. His brothers were brutes, and he didn’t respect them in the least. He wanted respect, and he wanted to know that he always, always had a way out of whatever situation presented itself.

But, he thought now as he peered around at the men looking to him for definitive action, sometimes exceptions had to be made. A declaration of treason and an execution, while a bold course of action, seemed to be the move he had to make. Besides, Hans reasoned, how else are we going to stop this winter if not by putting an end to its source?

No. It was clear he had no choice. There was no other way for Hans to get what he wanted. When the time came, he would do what had to be done.

Turning a corner, Hans saw the two guards he had posted outside Elsa’s cell. He had picked the strongest of the castle guards and equipped them with sharp swords and, more importantly, fire. Large torches stood in metal holders on either side of the guards. It seemed to him that the only thing an ice queen might fear was heat. While not a tested theory, Hans had figured it wouldn’t hurt. Hearing Hans’s approach, the guards came to attention and bowed. “Your Highness,” they said in unison.

“Men,” Hans acknowledged. “How’s our prisoner doing?”

The larger of the two guards stepped forward. “She has been crying, sir,” he reported. “And she was pulling at her chains, but that stopped a short while ago.”

Looking over his shoulder at the men who had joined him, he saw a few disturbed looks at the news that Elsa had been chained. “It was for her own protection,” he explained. “And yours. You were not with me on the North Mountain. I cannot stress enough how powerful and—”

As if on cue, the floor beneath their feet shuddered violently. Thrown off-balance, Hans reached out and clung to the wall beside him, trying to steady himself. There was another shudder, this time followed by a loud groaning noise. Then, through the small window in the cell door, wind began to blow, carrying snowflakes into the hall.

Instantly, the guards grabbed their weapons. Shouting to the others to stay back, Hans moved in right behind them. He needed to get in that cell before the others had a chance to see what had happened. He had a feeling it was going to be nothing good.

“She’s dangerous,” one of the guards said, pausing with his hand on the doorknob. “Move quickly and with resolve.”

Oh, good god, man, Hans fumed silently. As if I need to be told that. I know exactly what Elsa is capable of when angry.

Pushing open the door, the guards stepped inside. Hans followed hesitantly. Instantly, he wished he hadn’t. Where there had once been a solid wall of stone, now nothing remained but a few broken rocks. The whole wall was gone—as though blasted from the inside out. Snow had already begun to cover the floor, but where it hadn’t, Hans saw that the tiles had been frozen solid. In the middle of the room, shattered to pieces, was all that remained of the manacles Hans had placed on Elsa’s hands.

Hans’s vision went red as fury flooded through him. She had escaped. Despite his guards and despite her shackles, the queen had gotten away. Now she was out there somewhere, ready to do who knew what to the kingdom and—Hans gulped—him.

Walking over to the edge of the room, Hans looked out into the blinding snow. Almost nothing was visible through the storm, which seemed to be growing stronger by the second. Soon any tracks Elsa might have left would be swallowed up.

Hans shivered—both with cold and anger. Elsa had ruined everything. He had just been about to tie his plan up in a neat and tidy bow and then she had gone and messed it all up. Now he was going to have to go after her or risk looking weak, and then he was going to have to kill her. She had given him no choice. Despite his best efforts to keep the blood off his hands, he saw no alternative. It was her or him. And he hadn’t gone through the past few days to not come out the winner. He was going to kill her, put an end to winter, and get himself on that throne.