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The queen sent for her royal ice master as soon as he’d arrived in the castle courtyard. He had taken the time to wash his face and hands in a bucket by the stable well, and to very, very carefully scrape the mud from his boots, but he still felt smelly and dirty and generally unfit for the queen’s pristine study. Kristoff had hesitated at the door until Kai nudged him inside.
“Master Bjorgman, your majesty,” the old retainer announced.
“Ah, Kristoff, welcome back. Thank you, Kai,” the queen said, glancing up with a distracted smile. She sat behind her enormous desk, papers spread out in front of her. “Give me just a moment and you can take these sheets to the treasurer, with my compliments.”
“Yes, your majesty.”
Her pen scratched across the paper briefly, leaving a line of small, tidy script, then Elsa blotted the ink carefully and added the document to a thick sheaf of pages. She handed the stack to Kai. “Please tell Lord Pengerposer that I have some questions about the tax records. At his earliest convenience, of course.”
“Very good, your majesty.” Kai bowed and went out, closing the door behind him. Kristoff, left standing alone on the elegant carpet, shifted uncomfortably. The last time he'd been in this room, he'd been making the worst mistake of his life. Elsa folded her hands on the desk in front of her.
"Please, sit down," she said. "I need to talk to you about Anna," she went on, and he froze in the act of sitting on the very edge of a stiff-backed chair. Kristoff swallowed and sat down carefully.
"About Anna," he repeated. His voice sounded distant in his own ears. He remembered the day, more than a month ago, when he'd stood in front of the queen's desk, and told her that he knew his relationship with the princess was impossible, that he would resign his post and withdraw his suit, would withdraw from their lives completely. Elsa's expression was grave as she studied her clasped hands. If she told him now that he had been right, then…then he wasn't sure what he would do. He had promised Anna that he wouldn't leave her, and he would keep that promise. Somehow.
"Yes. She—" Elsa looked up at his face, and blinked. "Kristoff, you're as white as snow, what's—oh." She stood up hastily and came around the desk. "I'm sorry, that was all wrong. Please, come and sit over here." He followed her to the window, where two soft armchairs faced each other. "I'm still…figuring out some things. About how to deal with people, I mean," Elsa said. "I didn't mean to make you…to make you nervous. Is this better?"
She smiled at him, her hands twisting together a little in her lap. Kristoff sat in the chair across from her, feeling the cushions mold themselves to his tired back.
"I…yes, I think. So this isn't a bad conversation about Anna?"
"No! No, of course not—at least, I hope not. I wanted to talk about your future."
"My future…with Anna." Despite the soft cushions, his hands clenched against his knees.
"Yes. You have been spending a great deal of time together, but you haven't…there hasn't been any formal arrangement."
"No," Kristoff said slowly.
Elsa nodded, her brows crimping thoughtfully. "Kristoff—will you tell me about the wedding traditions in the mountains? I understand that in the isolated areas things are…a little different, since clergymen are rather sparse. How are marriages performed?"
"Well—" Kristoff groped for an explanation. "Ah. Well, in the mountains really the tradition is that if a couple survives a winter together, they belong together. In the spring there are celebrations, and people get their names written down in the record books and formalize things with the priest, if they're inclined. But usually most couples would consider themselves already married by then. They'd have announced their intentions to their families, and then…ah…"
"Cleaved to one another?" Elsa suggested. "I think that's the term the bishop would use." Her cheeks were pink. Kristoff felt a little better about the heat he could feel in his own face.
"Yes."
"I see. Kristoff, you do want to marry Anna. Don't you?"
"Yes," he said firmly. He met the queen's eyes. "With all my heart."
"And she wants to marry you."
"I—Yes. I think so." He could still hear Anna's voice in his ear—I don't want to marry anyone but you. But they hadn't spoken about it again, not explicitly. In their moments alone together they had been…preoccupied.
Elsa laughed. "Oh that wasn't a question," she said, grinning. "I know Anna wants to marry you. She was very clear on the subject. I just don't know…" Her smile faded a bit. "I'm just not sure how she feels about being engaged to you."
"Wait, I—what?" Kristoff started to jerk to his feet, but Elsa threw up placating hands and he sank back down, raking one of his own hands through his hair. "Why?" he asked helplessly. "If she wants us to marry—" He stopped again. "Oh. Gods, I'm slow, I never thought—it's because of him, isn't it?" He didn't need to say the name.
"I think it might be. Even though it was never an official engagement, everyone knows it happened, and a formal announcement of an engagement would bring it up again."
"Could we skip the fuss?" Kristoff asked hopefully. Elsa laughed.
"I don't think so. There's no getting out of the fuss of a royal wedding, and trying would only cause more gossip." She sobered at that. "You understand." Kristoff nodded, and the queen went on. "The thing is that, while Anna may not be ready for an official engagement, she is ready—she is anxious to—further your relationship in other ways. And I think it would help, somewhat, with her anxiety over an engagement, if you…ah. That is…" Elsa cleared her throat. "She asked for my help," she said bluntly. "For you to have…some time together. Alone."
Kristoff could only stare, his face burning. "Oh," he said faintly. "And you…you aren't about to have me arrested?"
"No," she said, "I considered it, but it would make Anna unhappy." She smiled at him. He grinned back, but it faltered.
"Are you really okay with this? With—" Words failed him and he could only gesture vaguely. When he'd promised Anna that there would be another time, he had not expected to end up discussing the situation with her sister.
Elsa leaned forward, looking at him intently. "There's a hunting lodge, about halfway up the mountain," she told him. "It hasn't been used since my father died, but I understand that it's still standing. It would be perfectly reasonable for Anna to go and inspect it, to see if it's in good repair. And if it were to snow heavily, it would be reasonable for her to wait for morning before returning home."
"Oh," he said weakly.
"Tell me this, Kristoff—if you joined her there, and spent the night with her, would you consider yourself bound to her? As much as if you had married her in front of a priest?"
"Yes," he said simply. She nodded and sat back.
"That's all I needed to know."
Anna was in the library, lying on her stomach in front of the fireplace. He stopped in the doorway to look at her. She'd taken off her shoes, and her stockinged feet were kicking idly in the air while she read, skirts tousled around her knees.
"Anna—"
Her name was barely past his lips before she was on her feet, papers scattering as she launched herself into his arms. He swung her up so that he could hold her close, could kiss her, and she was already talking, in between kisses.
"I missed you—mm—so much and I have so much to tell you—"
He set her on her feet so that he could cradle her face in his hands and kiss her again. "I missed you," he said quietly, leaning his forehead against hers. He'd been waiting to tell her for days, from the moment he'd let go of her to climb into the sled. "I missed you, Anna."
She leaned against his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist, holding him tightly. Kristoff hugged her close, bending his head to press his nose into her hair for a moment. He could have kept holding her like that forever, but the door was still open behind him and there were footsteps in the corridor. In the end he sat down on the foot of a chaise while Anna plumped back down on the carpet. She leaned back against his knee.
"Tell me," he said.
"What?"
"All the things you have to tell me. And what all this stuff is—" he gestured at the papers strewn across the floor.
"I've been talking to Mrs. Ogg," Anna said. He tried not to groan. Anna's talks with Mrs. Ogg were going to be the death of him. She'd already had a streak of creativity, but after her conversations with the elderly midwife she had all kinds of new ideas.
Once Anna decided to master something, she went at it headfirst. She'd decided she needed to know more about men and women, and after being disappointed by the library's selection it had occurred to her that what she needed was an expert. And the stars had aligned, and someone had recommended Mrs. Ogg as the woman to see about any little womanly troubles. Mrs. Ogg had had three husbands, and a flock of children. In addition to her own, brood, she had brought more babies into the world than any other woman in Arendelle, and most of them had lived. She was the best midwife in the country.
She was also a randy old woman with a juicy chuckle and a tendency to slap Kristoff on the bottom whenever she saw him in the market. And she gave Anna ideas. Before he'd left for the mountain, during their goodbyes, Anna had looked up at him shyly, biting her lip, and told him the latest thing she'd learned.
"Mrs. Ogg says—" Her teeth dug harder into her lip and she stood on tiptoe to whisper, her breath warm against his ear. "Mrs. Ogg says that when men and women are together, if they want, they can put—puttheirmouthsanywheretheyputtheirhands," she had finished in a rush.
"What?"
Anna had leaned in so that her whole body was pressed flush against him, and her lips were actually brushing the curve of his ear as she repeated herself. "You can put your mouth anywhere," she murmured. "Anywhere you would put your hand."
Mrs. Ogg was, he felt, directly responsible for the extremely uncomfortable ride he'd had on his way up the mountain. Kristoff had been well past the snowline before the throbbing ache in his trousers had subsided—and it had returned to haunt him every night as he remembered all the places on Anna's body where his hands had been, and wondered what they tasted like.
And now Anna was leaning her cheek against his knee while she talked. "Mrs. Ogg explained a lot to me, about…lady things. And I was talking to Elsa, and—did you talk to Elsa? She said she wanted to talk to you—"
"Yeah, she had someone waiting for me as soon as I got here. We talked."
Anna looked up at him. "Did she tell you about our idea? So that we—I mean you and I, obviously, not Elsa, I mean that would be—I love her and I love spending time with her but not when you—when we—anyway she very definitely does not want to—oh, stop laughing!" She poked him in the stomach. "She did tell you, didn't she? That she would help?"
Kristoff nodded. He felt that sensation of the floor rocking beneath him again, because it was too much to believe—sometimes over the last month he'd thought he was living in a dream world, a dream about a princess who somehow loved him, wanted him, and who was prepared to hide with him in closets and obscure corners of the gardens. Anna knew an amazing number of hiding places. They'd found that a lot of them weren't large enough to accommodate him (or if they were, they didn't allow for much freedom of movement) and usually there had only been time for a few hasty kisses, heavy with longing. But despite the cramped quarters and many layers of clothing he'd still gotten to feel Anna shudder in his arms more than once, gotten to feel her small, soft hands on him, and it was impossible, he knew it was impossible, and yet—
And yet the queen had offered to help arrange a…a tryst. And Anna was looking at him seriously, holding up a chart. "The calendar tracks my cycle, and these…these are the safe days. When I'm not likely to…when we probably won't…you know. There's not likely to be a baby."
"Oh," he said, a little blankly. The days she'd marked were soon. Very soon.
Kristoff, leaving the queen's office, had nearly bumped into the rather sweaty man waiting in the hallway, his arms full of ledgers. He felt as though the earth was rocking under his feet. Elsa had gotten up to return to her desk, and he'd stood awkwardly for a moment until something she said caught his ear.
"Wait, knighthood?"
"Yes, of course." She paused, standing with one hand on the arm of her chair. "You would have earned one anyway, for valor—there's an order of knights based on services to the crown. The ceremony is traditionally on the first Sunday after the new year, so it won't be right away, but all the right people know that you—"
"But I don't want to be a—"
The queen had given him a look. One pale eyebrow had arched up, the only movement in an otherwise frozen expression, and Elsa had sat down with slow, deliberate grace. She really should have looked dwarfed by the huge carved chair, but instead it suited her. Kristoff swallowed his protest. Apparently he was, in fact, going to be a knight. Fine, that was fine.
Elsa's frosty look melted into a smile. "Sorry, I just really wanted to try that out before I talk to Lord Pengerposer. Did I look intimidating?"
"Yes," Kristoff said. The sincerity in his voice made Elsa's smile widen.
"Good. Lord Pengerposer has been embezzling, but his wife is the sister of several very important people, people I need to have on my side. I think convincing him to retire quietly is the best option. And, Kristoff—" she paused, biting her lip. "I won't force you, to accept the knighthood," she said finally. "But it would make things easier. For you and Anna."
He had nodded, and turned to go—then paused with one hand on the door. "You said that being married to me—married in the mountain way—would make Anna feel better. Less anxious. Do you think—does she think—"
"She knows you won't leave," Elsa said. "You promised. And she trusts you. Now," she said, her tone cooling into formality, "thank you for your time, Mr. Bjorgman. Don't let me detain you."
It was an effective dismissal, although the way she glanced up and winked rather spoiled the cutting edge. But Kristoff did not think the unfortunate Lord Pengerposer was going to get a wink, when she used it on him.
"Are you sure, Anna?" he blurted. Her hand had been resting idly on the inside of his knee and her felt her fingers stiffen, clenching in the fabric of his trousers. Kristoff reached out to run his hand over her hair, then hold her shoulder gently. "I just meant—I know you want—and I want—" Something had been nagging at the back of his mind, and he struggled to put it into words. "But are you sure?"
"I'm sure, Kristoff," Anna said. She shifted around so that she was facing him squarely, her knees between his feet. "I've been sure from the beginning. I want this. You. I'm sure." She paused and her teeth worried at her lower lip for a moment before she looked up again at his eyes. "Are you?"
"Yes."
"Then that's all right—isn't it?"
He smiled at her, feeling something loosen in is chest. "Yes." His hands lifted to cup her face and Anna covered his fingers with her own. She smiled up at him.
"Good. Then kiss me."
He bent to obey, and Anna rose up on her knees to press into the touch, her mouth warm on his, a little clumsy with eagerness. Her hands pressed to his chest, then slid up. There was an irritable little grunt against his lips when his arms got in her way—Anna took hold of his wrist and moved his arm down so that she could get hers around his shoulder. Her fingers ran up the made of his neck and into his hair, making him shudder as her nails lightly scratched at his scalp.
A twinge in his back made Kristoff wince and pull away slightly. "Kristoff?"
"Sorry," he said quickly. "It's just some sore muscles, it's nothing—"
Anna studied his face, and he closed his eyes as her fingers traced the darkened circles under his eyes, and the roughness of stubble along his jaw. He had tried to make sure he was presentable, but it's tricky to shave when you only have a knife and no mirror except the scuffed blade of an ice saw.
"You're tired, why didn't you say? You should rest, do you need a bath? I can send someone--"
"I'm fine, Anna! Really. I'm not that tired. A little sore, that's all, and I'll have a bath later. Right now all I want is to be with you." He felt a crooked grin spread across his face and he reached out to run his thumb across her cheek. "I missed you."
Anna's eyes suddenly sparkled with tears and his chest clenched. "Anna, I'm sorry, I—"
Kristoff found himself sitting on the edge of the chaise, Anna straddling his lap, her skirts crushed between them. She pulled back just enough to rest her forehead against his. She was breathing hard, he realized.
"Anna—"
"I missed you," she said softly. He slid his hands up her back to gently cradle her head, disheveling her braids. Her lashes brushed his cheek as her eyelids fluttered closed. He mimicked the featherlight touch with his lips on her temple, her nose, the corner of her mouth. He kissed her, light and tender, wanting to hold back—Anna made a frustrated noise and pressed against him, her teeth nipping at his bottom lip and her hips grinding into his.
"I missed you," she repeated, leaning back to look at him. Her eyes were dark and sparkling. They made him think of deep lakes in the summer, reflecting back the night sky. Anna made him think of summer, despite the chill nip of autumn in the air. Anna was all warm, sultry heat.
"I missed you, Anna." Kristoff's voice felt rough in his throat. "So much."
"Did you think of me?" she asked. Her hand trailed down his chest, slid over his belly.
"Yes," he said hoarsely. "Anna—"
They both froze at the sound of a voice in the hallway. "I don't have it, did you look in the…" Another voice, farther away, interrupted, but Kristoff couldn't make out the words. "Well that's not my fault! I told you not to…" The voice trailed away as the speaker moved down the corridor.
"Anna," Kristoff said, reluctantly. "This isn't safe, we should—"
"What made you ask if I was sure?" she asked suddenly. She straightened up and let go of his hand, but she didn't make any move to get off of his lap.
"What?"
"A minute ago, you asked if I was sure. What made you wonder?"
"I—" He paused. "Did Elsa tell you what she wanted to ask me?"
"Yes—well, no, not really, but she said she hadn't told you about the knighthood yet, and she would make sure you weren't afraid of being arrested if we sneak off to the mountain together. Was there more?"
"A bit. She asked me about mountain traditions. Mountain weddings." He explained, a little haltingly, watching her face carefully. Anna listened without interrupting, blue eyes widening. He felt her hands on his chest curl into a fist. But she didn't look upset, or afraid, just…just intent.
There was a pause when he'd finished. Her eyes had dropped to rest on his chest, but after a moment she looked up into his face. "So Elsa wanted to make sure that if you—if we—are together…if we go to bed together…that you'd consider yourself married to me."
"Yes."
"And that you'd be my husband."
He wanted to say more, he wanted to pull her tightly against him and bury his face in her hair, in the soft freckled skin of her neck and shoulder, but all he could force past the tightness of his chest was a rather strangled "Yes."
She kissed him, throwing the whole weight of her body into him so that he fell back against the slope of the chaise. Her kiss was fierce and hot, smothering his groan, but just as abruptly she broke away. Kristoff blinked, his vision somehow hazy, and saw Anna going to the door.
"Wait, Anna—"
The smile she gave him over her shoulder made his heart pound, the blood pulsing through his body and carrying scorching heat with it. There was a firm thud as Anna pushed the door closed, then a soft snick as the lock turned. She turned around and stood with her back against the wood for a moment. Her eyes were dark as she looked at him, and Kristoff blushed, realizing he was still sprawled on his back—but when he started to sit up Anna said "No. Stay there."
Her voice had gotten husky and soft, but the words were firm. He relaxed back against the cushion. His mouth felt dry and he licked his lips. Anna began gathering up her skirt and petticoat. There were so many voluminous folds of fabric that he could quite see what she was doing, although his eyes hungrily devoured the smooth lines of her calves, the dimples of her knees, the expanse of soft thigh…
Something slipped to the ground, a crumpled little pile of delicate fabric. Anna let her skirts fall, covering her legs demurely once more, and stepped out of her abandoned drawers.
Kristoff could hear his own heartbeat like a drum in his ears, could feel the throb of it aching between his legs. His fingers dug into the tufted cushion of the chaise as Anna walked back to him. She came slowly, each step deliberate. One knee nudged his hip as she leaned over him, her hand on his chest to support herself as she kissed him. Her tongue teased at him and he groaned. The sound made Anna laugh softly. She shifted, her skirts tangling and bunching again as she straddled his stomach. He looked up at her as she settled herself. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips moist and kiss-swollen. Her eyes were sparkling as she smiled down at him. It was a sweet, playful smile, and yet something about it made his stomach twist.
"I love you," he blurted.
Anna stretched out on his chest, her body a warm, soft weight that somehow scorched him. His hands found her waist as she kissed him, running over her back, her hips, his arms wrapping around her to hold her close as her lips tugged at his and her tongue caressed him.
"I love you too," she whispered. Her head dropped down to rest on his shoulder for a moment, her body nestling against him. Kristoff's hand wandered up her spine to rub softly against the back of she shoulder. He found one of her braids and twisted it gently though his fingers. His body was still aching for more, but there was also a rush of deep contentment and peace. Anna squirmed as he tickled her cheek with the feathery end of her braid.
She looked up at him, her teeth digging into her soft bottom lip, and lifted up from him a little. Her hand slid down over his chest and stomach. "How often?"
"Mm?" He was trying not to groan as her fingers rubbed over him. "How often what?"
"How often did you think of me?"
"I—" Oh. She had filled his thoughts almost constantly, but she didn't mean all the times he'd asked himself what she was doing or pictured her smile. "Every night," he muttered. "Almost every night. And…ah…sometimes in the morning."
Anna took her hand off of his trousers to count. "Almost?"
"There were a few nights when I was too tired to eat, much less do anything else." He saw her brow crimp with concern and he lifted a hand to cradle her cheek in his palm. "I'm fine, Anna," he said hastily. "Ice harvesting is hard work, that's all."
She leaned into his touch, turning her head to nuzzle against his fingers. He felt her faint sigh brush against his wrist. "But you love it. It's part of you, part of who you are."
"Yes." Anna was kissing the callouses on his hand—the rough places across his palm, then the tip of each finger. "Anna—"
"I thought of you," she confessed.
Kristoff's eyes widened. His other hand tightened unconsciously on her hip. There was no mistaking her meaning, not when a precious pink flush was spreading across her nose and cheeks. "Oh." Anna was biting her lip, hard, and he reached out to gently tug to the flesh free from her teeth so that he could rub his thumb over it. "Would you show me?" he asked.
"You want me too—"
"I want to see you. Please."
She nodded, turning her head to kiss his thumb again. Kristoff shifted a little so that he sat up slightly. He helped gather up her skirts, his palms sliding up her legs, over the soft material of her stockings, the silky skin of her thighs and hips warm against his fingers. The fabric bunched in his fists as he held it against her stomach. Anna's cheeks were hot and rosy, but she met his eyes without hesitation. He could feel the heat of her through his sweater.
Dainty fingers brushed through soft, dark curls, just as they had that first time. "Show me," he murmured, and a smile flicked over her lips before they parted in a gasp. He watched as her fingers circled, rubbing softly at first, then harder. Her breathing was rough and he could feel her thighs tremble.
One of Anna's hand's reached behind her, groping, and he arched up with a ragged moan as it slipped into his trousers, her palm stroking him. "Anna—this was about you—"
"This was what I thought about," she whispered. "I thought of you, of how hot you feel in my hand—of you looking at me—I—" She broke off with a faint cry, releasing his cock so that she could rest her hand on his chest, balancing herself as her body shuddered. "Kristoff—please—"
He pressed his hand over hers, holding her fingers against the heat of her until she cried out again. Kristoff watched her, listening for the sharp gasp that he’d come to recognize, the moan that started in the back of her throat as she lost herself in the sensation. Her hand clutched at his sweater as if it were her only handhold on a cliff face. Anna seemed to glow, flushed and sensuous despite the modest restriction of her bodice and shirt. Wisps of fine hair escaping from disheveled braids clung to her cheeks and forehead as her lashes fluttered and a final shiver ran through her body. She sank down onto his chest, still trembling in his arms as he held her tightly.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered roughly against her hair. Anna mumbled incoherently into his shirt. "What?"
"Your turn," she repeated, pushing herself up.
"Anna, you know we don't have to—you know that seeing you is enough." His body throbbed in protest, but he meant it. It had nearly finished him, seeing her face flushed and her body shivering, hearing her soft whimpering breaths. But Anna was shaking her head.
"I want to." She was scooting down, over his legs. "I want to—you remember what I told you? Just before you left?" He nodded, feeling heat blossom in his stomach at the memory. Anna's hands were freeing him from his trousers, stroking over his flushed and aching length. Kristoff bit hard at his lip as she touched him, eager and confident. "If I can put my mouth anywhere I put my hands..." she murmured. Her fingertip swirled over his tip and his body jerked in response. "May I?"
"Gods, Anna, I—" He had to stop and swallow hard. "I'm all yours, Anna," he said finally.
She started with kisses, soft, chaste little kisses on his stomach, his hip and thigh, then up the veined underside of his cock. His head fell back and he had to clench his teeth tightly to contain his cry as her tongue flicked out, as daintily as a kitten, stroking over him gently. Anna worked her way up and down his shaft, and the muscles of his abdomen tightened with each soft lick, until she parted her lips and—he winced, inhaling sharply.
"Are you okay?" Anna asked anxiously.
"Yeah, I just--teeth are....not good," he mumbled.
"Oh! Oh no, sorry." She placed a light, apologetic kiss on him, swirling her tongue, and he groaned. “Better?”
“Mm--Gods, Anna--”
This time she was more careful, and the inside of her mouth was all slickness and warmth, and—his hips bucked helplessly at the sensation of gentle suction and Anna choked, pulling away to cough.
"Are you okay?" he asked. "Gods, Anna, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"
"I'm fine!" she said, wiping at her watering eyes. "I wasn't ready, that's all." She licked her lips, looking determined, but he sat up to catch her hand.
"Anna, no. I don't want to hurt you."
"You didn't, I'm okay."
"I know, I just—" He was going to run out of control very soon. His thumb stroked over the back of her hand. "Not this time."
"Another time?" Anna asked, a smile quirking her lips. Her soft, swollen lips. He cleared his throat.
"Another time," he promised hoarsely.
Anna nodded. "Okay. But let me take care of you. Please? And…I want to see."
"What?"
She pressed him back against the cushion and leaned over him to push up his sweater, baring his stomach and chest. Her fingertips trailed over his skin before her hand closed over his stiffness again, stroking. "I want to see. Without handkerchiefs and stuff in the way. May I? Please?"
He could only nod. Her palm was sliding over him, her fingers squeezing and caressing, and her eyes were dark with desire as she watched. He looked down. His belly was moving with his rapid, panting breaths, and he could see how dark his cock looked against Anna's slim white fingers. The sight was all it took and he groaned, back arching as he felt the heat of his own release fall across his skin.
They didn't have much time. When they had hastily tidied themselves, cleaning up the mess and restoring their clothes to order, there was only time for him to pull Anna into his arms for one last kiss before they had to part.
"Soon," she said. "Another time—soon."
“Soon,” he promised.