Page 7 of Of Snow and Sapphire

“Excited for what, Liatris?” Ludelle put her book down, one that she had hoped to read in silence, but Balvan insisted that she spend some time with her ladies in waiting, explaining that another woman’s opinion might help her make her decision on which suitor would be worthy of her choice. Ludelle had to restrain herself from leaping on top of the man and blasting ice down his throat until he choked and died. Why did everyone else’s opinion matter more than her own? She was Queen after all, shouldn’t people come to her for counsel?

Plus the mixture of perfumes in the room did the opposite of what Balvan hoped. Her head throbbed everytime she had to breathe in the abstract aroma of a perfume imported from another court.

More cautiously now, Liatris responded, “Well…marriage of course. It’s such a joyous occasion.”

The other ladies nodded their heads enthusiastically, trying to be encouraging but Ludelle knew they had their own motives. Ladies in waiting could not marry until the Queen was wed. They could not bear children until Ludelle did, too. It was an outdated custom that Ludelle wanted cut from the law, but she could not make changes before her first Undertaking. She needed to first prove herself to the Snow Court—which was fair, but frustrating.

“Yes, of course.” She sipped on her tea, her book now long forgotten, and the room seemed to relax. “My marriage will be filled with wondrous joy. A man will come into my life, claim his title as my consort, and spend the rest of his days trapped in a dungeon cell.”

One of the ladies dropped her spoon, the sound clattering loudly. A maid rushed over to pick it up and another offered a fresh spoon. Saira sheepishly accepted it.

“Pardon?” Villeta exclaimed in horror, her brown eyes blown wide.

These women were too easy to frighten. Too bad she didn’t have a choice in picking her ladies in waiting, either. She would have preferred a bunch who were a bit more bloodthirsty. Even her cousin Helena was much too sweet-natured for Ludelle. Though at least she didn’t walk around Ludelle like the ice of the castle floor was melting.

Helena currently sat next to Villeta on a plain white chaise, her hands on her lap. Helena’s deep purple gown couldn’t hide Villeta’s own hands which inched closer to her cousin’s. Ludelle took note to offer them support when they were finally free to marry after Ludelle’s own nuptials. Now was not the time to bring it up.

“I jest, ladies.” Ludelle smiled sincerely, even showing her teeth. “He will live comfortably, warm my bed, and once I have an heir, he will be fed to Kotyn.” The silence became palpable and awkward. Ludelle had to stop herself from rolling her eyes at their seriousness. “Truly, this is just me making light of a difficult situation. I am nervous about my first Undertaking. I’m sure you understand?”

“Of course,” the ladies echoed.

“I have been told I need to ask for your help on who I should choose as a husband.” Since they didn’t want to entertain her honest thoughts, they would move on to a truly grim topic.

Thankfully, that lit up the room again. Each of them stated their opinions before Ludelle could even mention that she had narrowed down the nobles to four options this morning, before meeting with Balvan. He had been pleased with her remaining selection. That made her want to reconsider her options. Surely, they couldn’t have the same taste. Though she did notice his jaw clench when he got to the last name: Lord Cirrus. Ludelle wished he was only there for spite, but Ludelle truly believed he was the best of the bunch.

“Well, it can’t be Lord Trevan. I heard he has an affinity for walking naked around his home,” Villeta said.

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Helena giggled, covering her mouth like a proper lady. Ludelle’s mother always liked to compare the two of them when growing up. She believed that Helena had the right composure and manners for Queenhood, while Ludelle was too wild. There wasn’t even a point to her mother’s opinion since Helena was not destined to be Queen, unless Ludelle died without an heir. Then, the Weather Gods, specifically the Goddess of Snow, Moroza, might bestow the honor to Helena. Ultimately, her mother was being cruel only to get into Ludelle’s head and make her feel unworthy of a title that was hers from birth.

Villeta said into her tea, as if knowing her words were too vulgar for such a refined setting, “Well, when you live in the Snow Court, it doesn’t flatter his cock.”

“I heard it shrivels up,” Helena added. If only her mother could see the lack of her propriety, now. Villeta leaned her head onto Helena’s shoulders, a blush staining her cheeks. Ludelle truly wondered how she could have been so blind to their clear adoration of each other.

The rest of the room snorted. Ludelle scratched behind her ear, trying her best to put on a smile.

“And who has caught your eye, Queen Ludelle?” Saira asked.

Ludelle looked at the closed door, knowing who waited right outside it.

“Captain Zimyn is handsome,” Liatris said with a sigh, as if she was dreaming of him.

“I never said such a thing,” Ludelle snapped.

“We don’t need words to know where your mind wandered.” Villeta teased, her tone increasing in pitch.

Ludelle tightened her lips, unable to have this conversation. Her heart physically hurt because of what she recently learned. Zimyn planned to leave her. Everything they had planned and dreamed would be crushed.

Helena jumped in. “Maybe we should talk about the latest fashion instead.”

Ludelle gave her cousin a grateful look, as the ladies quickly changed the subject to the growing trend of leather cloaks. Ludelle participated where she could, but even the switch in topic could not dissuade her mind from thinking of Zimyn. Once she completed her Undertaking, he would be gone. Any potential of them being together would be officially severed. They were on two different planes, now, and her marriage would only separate them further.

Ludelle hated the training rings. Not the actual act of training. The movement required was a reprieve from reading official court documents all day. She hated that the guards had no qualms giving their unsolicited feedback about her improper form, or the way she scrunched her face to focus, even if their advice was always helpful.

Growing up, Ludelle had practically begged Zimyn to train her somewhere privately, but he refused, saying that as Queen she should be comfortable sharing space with her subordinates. It was a humbling experience to say the least.

As a compromise, they always worked in an isolated corner, still visible for all to see but at least she wasn’t in the center like some kind of common street performer.

“You’re distracted,” Zimyn said from his place along the wall, a sword in hand that he polished with a rag. He had received that sword as a gift from her parents when he was given the title of Captain and he treated it with great honor. Ludelle found it endearing on most days, but not now.

---