Page 11 of Of Snow and Sapphire

“We’re doing our best to keep everything in order,” the villager said. He had greeted them when she had arrived and introduced himself as the head of the hunting groups, as this area was the meat capital of the court with their forests bountiful with deer, rabbits, and wolves. Meat farmers bred cattle, which was the largest source of protein. The weather conditions made it hard to grow any produce, so the court relied on trading the meat with other courts like Rain and Sun for it.

This was not the welcoming party that she was used to, but the sight in front of her explained why.

“As you can see, we’re struggling,” the villager said.

Struggle was a light way of putting it. The roads had flooded over, the snow and ice all melted. Ludelle, in her warm cloak, was beginning to sweat. The Snow Court desperately longed for the Undertaking to happen soon—more added pressure to her already growing arsenal of it.

Right as she planned to turn back and address the villager, a child ran out of her home, catching Ludelle’s attention. A long braid that hung past her knees fluttered behind her as she slid across the mud, falling and laughing. This child had no concept of the terrible source of her fun; obliviousness could be a freedom—one Ludelle never allowed herself to dream of, because that would be selfish of her. How could she complain when her life was full of luxury and privilege?

The little girl wiped her face and rubbed mud all over it, but she didn’t appear upset, moreso just in awe of the changes to her world. The child’s mother called out from the stoop of their cottage, and the little girl obeyed orders as she slumped her way back inside.

Sighing, Ludelle said, “I do not understand. I have never seen it get this bad.”

She had visited villages days before her father’s Undertakings many times. And yes, the snow had dwindled to almost nothing, but frosty patches remained. The people were able to comfortably withstand it.

But this…this was another story. It practically looked like the Rain Court at this point, with patches of puddles and water dripping off of leaves.

The villager sucked on his lower lip, thinking to himself. “We’ve theorized it’s because it’s your first Undertaking. The Weather Gods are truly testing you and reminding you of what can happen, especially if you do not choose wisely when it comes to your betrothed.”

Of course. The Weather Gods would do this. Wedge a boulder in her brain until it knocked sense into her. Too much rode on her shoulders—she needed to get her act together. No more dawdling and stalling. No more brooding about Zimyn’s departure. She took a labored breath, her energy waning. She could see from her peripheral that Zimyn shifted on his feet as if noticing it, too.

Her advisor remained silent, letting her take the lead. Although he could be a pain in her ass, he did know how to wield his strengths to allow her to shine. He stepped in when necessary but allowed her to do her job.

“We only have a few weeks left before this will be solved,” Ludelle said. “We need to transport all the meat to another village for the time being to make sure it does not rot. Somewhere more central, ideally.”

The villager nodded, taking note as she continued. “We’ll provide a carriage that will be filled with ice so it stays cold during the trip. In the meantime, I’ll be praying to the Weather Gods for a flurry of snow.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” the villager said with deference as he bowed. “We are most grateful for your care. Whichever noble wins your hand will be a lucky man.”

She wanted to yell at him to stop because his obvious appreciation for her as his Queen was just another reason as to why she couldn’t let her people down. She loved her people but hated facing the reality of how much they leaned on her. It made every decision harder, every desperate urge to damn the consequences and choose the love of her life impossible.

Balvan gave her an impressed look as if he too knew where her mind went, proving how correct his insistence to let Zimyn go was. Responsibility to her court would always come first, and now she couldn’t convince herself out of it, even at the expense of her heart.

Zimyn left the traveling party to step into the small town at the center of the village. He left Flix in charge of ensuring everyone’s safety as another “test to practice his skills as soon-to-be appointed Captain,” Zimyn told him. Flix jokingly saluted him and went to do his job.

The town was sparse in comparison to the one near the castle, but it still had its charm. Many people seemed to be staying indoors to avoid the slick, mud covered roads. Zimyn, himself, had slipped a few times, needing to grab the nearest fence or tree to stay upwards. He spared his horse from traversing through these roads, let the poor animal rest with the entourage of guards.

He stepped inside a butcher shop, a smoky scent overwhelming his nose immediately. He greeted the owner, taking a close look at the freshest cuts. Most of what he sold was from the cattle farms, as the deer and rabbit meat was generally kept for the castle or for trade since it was more expensive.

Zimyn picked a sausage for himself and ate it as he walked around some more.

In a few weeks, he would have the luxury to do this everyday. He could explore every corner of every court. He had the rest of his life to do it, and there would be no limits. He would say yes to every opportunity presented to him. A perfect distraction from the woman with white eyes whom he loved.

His next stop—the real reason he left the group—was the leather shop. He needed some sturdy boots for himself.

“Ouch!” the shop owner yelped. She hit her head on a shelf as she stood up at the sound of his entrance.

She was probably unused to visitors. He didn’t think that many of these villagers could afford quality leather like what she offered. Most of the fine leather was traded to other courts or sold to the rare traveler who passed by.

“How can I help you?” she asked.

He pointed to his feet. “New boots.”

She nodded and guided him to the back. “We have a few already made,” she said. “But I think you might need to be sized for a custom pair.”

Zimyn had expected that. The owner sat him down and started measuring his feet. He sat there watching her, the skill and craft and care she placed into her work. Something that seemed so simple on the outside, yet so essential to everyday life.

“Such large feet,” she commented under her breath.

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