Page 14 of Of Snow and Sapphire

“And how is little Ludelle doing?” His father asked as he brought two pieces of ice together and melded them. His eyes narrowed deeply to focus on the fine details of his model.

“She’s not so little anymore.”

His father waved him off. “She’ll always be that little girl who stormed into the training rings before dawn to try and pick up a sword that doubled her in weight,” he reminisced, as he liked to do. “One time she nicked herself and instead of crying, she tried to use her powers to seal the wound. Unfortunately, even blue blood runs warm, and it melted instantly.”

Zimyn smiled to himself. That sounded like Ludelle, determined to find a solution for herself before asking for help—or never asking for help, really. He remembered that his father found her that day and brought her to a back room where he wrapped the small wound. Instead of being grateful, she had ignored Zimyn for days after, saying that his father thought her weak because of the way Zimyn treated her. To prove her wrong, Zimyn threw snowballs at her. She retaliated by throwing shards of her ice at him. They both ended up with sliced arms and legs.

“Has she chosen her betrothed?”

Zimyn whipped his head to his father, who had a knowing smirk on his face. “Why do you think I would know that?”

He whistled. “So quickly deflecting. Shouldn’t the Captain of the Guard know who the Queen will choose to sleep next to each night?”

“Are you worried her husband will stab her in her sleep?”

“I am not the one worried.” His father brought together more pieces, and slowly, the model was becoming clearer to Zimyn. A chair, with small crafted details mirroring the throne Ludelle sat on.

“She’ll make the right choice for the Court at large. That is what’s most important.”

“Duty to the crown?”

“Responsibility for her people,” Zimyn corrected.

His father got up, the old chair almost tipping over before Zimyn stopped it. His father had become oblivious to his surroundings as he narrowed his attention. On a window sill sat a snow globe. One Zimyn was familiar with, having seen it everyday growing up.

His father brought it over. “I gave this to your mother.”

Zimyn shook it, watching the snow fall over the castle that was depicted inside. “Mother loved it. She always stared at it.”

“Yes, with me staying inside the castle, and her here, we spent such little time together. It’s one of my biggest regrets.”

“She never held that against you,” Zimyn said earnestly. “Every time you had a chance to come for dinner or for a quick break, her eyes glowed with delight.”

His father gently smiled, clearly picturing her face. His mother had meant the world to the both of them. When she got sick and could barely move, each of them made sure that one of them was with her at all times to keep her company. Even when she could no longer communicate her needs, Zimyn could always tell when she wanted her husband by the way she fondly stared at the snow globe.

“She was my salvation in so many ways. She reminded me every day that I was more than just my duty to this court. That’s what this snow globe was. It was a reminder that although the castle held a piece of my heart, she held it all.”

Zimyn swallowed, trying to think of something to say but could barely form a word. “Why are you telling me this?” he barely choked out, his voice wavering.

His father sat back down as he got to work. The cabin walls felt constricting as Zimyn waited for him to respond. “Because your heart is much larger than your role as Captain.” His father stopped and looked into Zimyn’s glacial blue eyes, his father’s a shade darker than his, “And because…your heart is at a crossroads.”

“I’ve made my decision already,” Zimyn said, with no room for additional argument.

Zimyn’s father nodded, staring down at his model.

“Love is not simple. It requires sacrifice. Your mother sacrificed so much so I could do what I was born to do. I never took that lightly, especially when you came into the picture.” His face turned solemn. “I would have sacrificed my very soul so that she could still be here today. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way, so I spent every second that I could with her when we had it.”

“Was it worth it?”

“Yes, but you knew that already.”

His father had been trying to get Zimyn to stay as soon as Zimyn told him he wanted to leave. It’s not that his father didn’t support his decision to travel, but he assumed Zimyn was doing it for the wrong reasons—that he was running away.

Zimyn admired his parent’s love, but everyone was not so privileged to experience such a simple, quiet love like they had. Zimyn and Ludelle—even if he stayed—would never be simple.

Seven

Her prayer’s to the Weather Gods must have been answered, as in the days following her return from the western village, a sprinkle of snow flurries were reported and the meat was safely transferred inland, preventing fears of famine. One less thing for Ludelle to stress about, at least. Balvan had applauded the way she handled herself and her court. Ludelle didn’t need his praise.

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