Page 23 of Of Snow and Sapphire

“Because you are willing to sacrifice that love so he can be happy.”

Ludelle sniffled and wiped away a tear that strayed down her cheek. Helena stood up and rubbed Ludelle’s back.

“We’ll be here once he’s gone. Every step of the way.”

Ludelle had never been more grateful to have her ladies in waiting. Perhaps Balvan had been right that she just needed to spend more time with them. She promised herself that she would make a better effort once her Undertaking was done. She needed these women, Ludelle realized. They could offer a camaraderie greater than that of any consort.

Twelve

Zimyn dreamed. Even when he tried to escape Ludelle, she found a way in, like a winter chill that refused to let spring melt in. Tonight, he dreamed of simpler times, when their legs were still too short, when their royal manners were not yet fully drilled into them.

Their parents were entertaining some guests for the afternoon, leaving them both to do what they pleased—like breaking royal rules.

Zimyn was chasing Ludelle down the hall, both of them sliding against the icy floors without caution. They had just gotten back in from sledding outside where the snow was thick and tall, a storm having just raged through the court. Now, it was the calm after; at least it was supposed to be, but they always found trouble

Ludelle had stolen a dagger from the guards collection in the training room, and she was now swinging it around unsheathed. Zimyn had to duck too many times to count to avoid being sliced. He could even feel his knees bruising after he’d slipped as they’d been careless in running up the stairs.

“Ludelle you’re gonna cut yourself,” Zimyn cautioned her, but she was ignoring him completely as she waved her arms around, the poor nearby curtain a casualty. Ludelle’s eyes widened but she didn’t focus on the damage too long before she rushed off again, her long dress billowing behind her.

Zimyn desperately needed a moment to catch his breath, but he also needed to keep up with her. Even at this young age, he felt the pressure of responsibility for the princess’ safety.

He tiptoed quietly and turned the corner, ready to sneak up on her, when he practically crashed right into Ludelle’s grandmother, the former Queen. She looked down at him, her wrinkled skin tightening as she smiled down at him.

“You’re hurt,” she said plainly. When he didn’t say anything back, she pointed to his neck. Zimyn swiped his hand over his throat, and sure enough, red stained his palm. He remembered the time when he first saw Ludelle’s blue blood, how different she was from him and the rest of the court—a line drawn between royalty and those beneath them. For some reason though, at that moment, he didn’t care that she had hurt him.

“My granddaughter is a feisty one, which means she throws caution to the wind.”

Zimyn still could not speak. He had never interacted with the former Queen before. Sure, he had seen her at balls and dinners, but nothing like this.

“Ludelle is currently locked up in the washing room getting a bath for today’s ball. Let’s get you patched up in the meantime.”

Her quarters were simpler than he expected. He had sneaked into Ludelle’s parent’s room once, and stepping into that had been like walking inside a sapphire gem. The walls were extravagant and gaudy. It had been suffocating.

This was a breath of fresh air. The windows open, bringing a nice breeze to the room. It was much better than the stuffy guard’s quarters.

“Sit, sit,” she patted the spot next to her, the lavish covers on her bed were soft on his skin. Zimyn had no idea where she got the supplies but he did as he was told. Using a damp cloth, she pressed it to his skin, and he hissed as it stung, his eyes quickly watering.

“My granddaughter is lucky to have you.” Zimyn whipped his head to her, but she adjusted it back so she could keep working. “Having someone in your life, especially as royalty, that you can deeply trust is a privilege not many have.” Zimyn had a suspicion she was speaking from experience, and questions were on the tip of his tongue, but she continued without elaborating. “Some find it in partners, some in their friends, some in their Captain of the Guard, and some even in their advisors.” She had admitted the last part sheepishly.

“It’s a Captain’s job to ensure that the royal line is safe at all costs,” he stated matter of factly. Even then, Zimyn understood his future role well.

With his neck craned to the side, he couldn’t see the former Queen’s face, but he felt her breathy laugh. “You are a smart one. Yes, that is a Captain’s duty, and it is important that it is taken seriously. But you…” she paused and stopped her work. She narrowed her eyes, really taking the time to look at him. “You and her are like looking in the mirror. Opposites of the same image. You’re dedicated. She’s strong-willed. You compliment each other beautifully. A perfect pair that would be unstoppable.”

“Captains don’t marry royalty.”

The former Queen sighed as she wrapped some gauze on his now clean cut. “Yes, they do say that. But maybe…love can overcome even those old traditions that serve no one. I wished they did long ago.”

Zimyn had no clue what the woman was saying. Perhaps with her old age, her mind had already started declining. How could she be in support of the two of them? It didn’t make sense.

“Remember, mirrors are no longer useful after they have shattered.” She cupped his cheek, her eyes turning serious. “Don’t let anyone break that formidable force you two share, even when the pressure becomes too much.”

Zimyn gasped awake, his back sweating and the memory from so long ago blurred away as he panted, trying to catch his breath. That had been the first time someone from the royal family had outwardly acknowledged his trajectory towards becoming Ludelle’s Captain of the Guard. Even Ludelle had never said it out loud at that time, whether in denial or because she didn’t care. Or maybe, like him, she didn’t want to draw a line between two friends. One of royalty, the other nothing more grand than an employee.

Whatever Ludelle’s reason, Zimyn was always conscious of how they came from two different worlds. How he would be up before the sun with his father, and she would roll out of bed just in time for breakfast. Yet, even then, they blended together as one force.

There was an underlying guilt to Zimyn’s insistence for leaving. It was a storm that he constantly battled within; because even though Ludelle’s grandmother was long gone, he still felt like he owed it to her to stay—to be the person in the court that Ludelle could trust.

Zimyn stormed into his father’s cabin, not even giving him the decency to knock before he entered. He didn’t know why he came here, why this was the first place he thought of going after restlessly laying in bed for too long.

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