Page 17 of Of Snow and Sapphire

“None of that today. Your stubbornness is not productive to the crown.”

“And your inability to keep formal documents straight is helping…how?” Ludelle picked up one of the papers that had landed near her feet, seeing the royal insignia. Before she could read through it, Balvan snatched it away. “Is that not something I should be reading?”

He shook his head. “No, no. Those are just trash. Someone complaining about something, a child asking that you pray to the Weather Gods for a new toy.”

Ludelle put her hands on her hips, the beads pressing into her skin. “That sounds like something I should be aware of.”

“Don’t trouble yourself. Your father always had me take care of this nonsense.”

“I’m not my father, and I don’t appreciate that you assumed that I would rule the same way.” Her father—and by extension, her mother—cared more for their own comfort than the comfort of the court. Ludelle refused to be the same.

Balvan leaned against her bed. “I had asked you before. You must have been off daydreaming, so I figured you had no issue with it.”

“Well don’t do that in the future,” she retorted sharply. “Until words have left my mouth, keep asking. Agreed?” She tilted her head to the side, waiting for him to challenge her.

They stared each other down, but she would not let Balvan win this.

“Alright, I’ll make sure you receive all correspondence moving forward. We must go now.”

He outstretched his hand, and Ludelle reluctantly took it

“Any standouts?” He asked, as he guided her down the hall. Her stride was much shorter in such a tight dress, but she didn’t allow it to make her look weak. She kept her head high, as if her slow stride was intentional.

“You know where my head is at,” she responded.

“Lord Cirrus is not the match you have concocted in your head. Don’t you find him too weak-minded? You’ll get bored so quickly.”

“I find him to be just fine. He’s charming enough to hold an audience, which is a great asset. Don’t you always say I lack that easiness that the people seek? He fits that role.”

“I just think there are better options in that room. His family’s past is…off-putting, to say the least. Just keep your eyes and ears open to them all. His combat training is lackluster I’ve been told, and I know you gravitate towards brutes.”

“I’ll make sure that I pay close attention then during their training test, tomorrow,” Ludelle gritted out. On top of this session today, Balvan had set up some time for the nobles to prove themselves as honorable fighters. He believed that her husband should be an extra layer of protection.

Satisfied with himself, Balvan led her onwards as she prepared herself to enter the lion’s cage.

The gathering room had been transformed from its usual simplicity to true finery. Ice crystals hung from the ceiling, the peeking sun from the windows glistening against them, creating a mosaic of reflections against outrageous sculptures of ice. Mountains, trees, the castle, but the most ostentatious being the bust of her head. It was hideous. The craftsmanship not lacking, just…it felt wrong in this room with all these men who sought her like a prize. Had they been ogling at it as they waited for her?

Plus, it didn’t seem wise to be using up so much ice to make these obscene decorations. They should be preserving it, especially as the power quickly depleted. She took note to speak with Balvan about this would-be offense.

As soon as she passed through the door, the nobles stood up and fanned around her, each bowing and trying to speak to her, desperate to make a good first impression. One of them stayed back, splayed on the back of the blue velvet couch with his legs crossed. She recognized him immediately as Lord Mitah. He looked comfortable and unperturbed by her presence. She understood his strategy immediately, and unfortunately for him, a lack of care did not amuse her or draw her in like he undoubtedly hoped. Or perhaps, he was still bitter about the card game he lost to her when they were younger.

Guards flanked each corner, but Zimyn wasn’t one of them. Good. It was better this way. She wouldn’t be distracted.

Balvan had already left her, too, saying she needed to do this on her own.

“Can I pour you a drink, Queen Ludelle?” One of the nobles asked as he made his way towards the liquor cabinet.

Each of them had a large glass of their own. “Well since you seem to take no issue with being heavy-handed with the castle’s collection, I suppose the Queen should join in, shouldn’t she?” Some of them winced, clearly ashamed. Others cheered her unabashedly.

Taking a swig, she downed the whole thing in one go, then pointed for another. The noble happily obliged, doubling the amount.

“I appreciate a woman who is unafraid to enjoy the festivities. My mother had always declined even a sip of a drink because she worried too much about appearing unsightly. She thought a woman with alcohol in her breath was a disgrace.”

Ludelle narrowed her eyes at the backhanded insult. “What’s your name?”

“Lord Finch.”

“Lord Finch.” she smiled, clinking her glass against his while he smiled back cheerily. She leaned forward and whispered into his ears. “Insult me again, and I will stab you with the bones of your dead mother.” She then straightened herself, the other nobles now watching closely. “Guards, please escort Lord Finch out of the castle.”

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