5. Five
The carriage ride had been bumpy and uncomfortable—not because of the constant bouncing that caused her to hit her head against the velvet interior, but because of Balvan’s nonstop briefing, as if she knew nothing of her court. Ludelle had spent her whole life studying the court’s politics, history, and economics. She was well aware of the importance of the west’s need to maintain ice production in order to preserve meat for the year. The way Balvan spoke, though, one would think she had never even heard of the Snow Court before. It was insulting.
It didn’t help when at each village they passed, there was a line of people watching the carriage wheel through the streets. Ludelle waved at them, but they had their arms crossed and their eyes downcast. She couldn’t blame them; their lives depended on her, and she had yet to prove herself. Balvan had prepared her for the cold hard truth of the people’s uncertainty.
“They expect you to instill confidence. That you will pick a powerful match and maintain the stronghold of the Snow Court,” Balvan said obnoxiously, his nasally voice grating more than usual today. At least he strategically wore browns and blacks so she could contrast nicely in her white gown. He knew that optics were just as important as actual political dealings. “There cannot be even a hint of any doubt coming from you, so you will let them know that you have chosen your husband already.”
“And if they ask who I have chosen?”
“You’re Queen. Tell them it’s not their business.”
“I do not think avoiding answering a simple question will instill confidence in the people.”
Balvan’s jaw tightened, unimpressed with her opinions and her quick dismissal of his advice. “Then tell them it will be a surprise. That you want your last few days before your marriage is officially announced to be one of private companionship.”
The word companionship rankled, but she swallowed down the bitterness of it.
“So that they can spread more rumors about who sleeps in my bed?” She snorted. “Nothing about my life is private.”
He adjusted his long coat. “Well it’s better than people gossiping about that brute and you running away together.”
She tsked. “Now, that is not very becoming of you. That brute has been key to my training for the Undertaking. He has made me stronger and more prepared.” Ludelle didn’t even know why she was defending him, why it even mattered anymore. Zimyn would no longer be Balvan’s concern. Much less her own.
Ludelle continued, as she tapped her cobalt claws against the frosted window. “Your lack of confidence in me makes me question my abilities. Maybe it’s time to reconsider what you add to the court.”
He smiled, a silver tooth peeking through. Although years older than her—the same age her grandmother would be if she still lived—he was still handsome. His long brown hair, expertly done, and his clothes perfectly pressed. “You would’t dare. The court loves me and trusts me. They have for a long time. And your grandmother would turn in her grave if she knew you had relieved me of my position.”
“Now, I see where all that confidence is,” Ludelle retorted, as she uncrossed her ankles to take up more room in the tight space. “You have none to bestow unto me because it is puffed up in your mind. Is that why you look like your head is seconds away from popping off your neck?”
“I don’t know who you think you are—”
“The Queen,” she interjected plainly.
“But you are nothing without me. This court would have long melted to a flood zone weren’t for me.”
“We will see.”
Ludelle stood atop a hill. Ominous gray clouds stretched across the sky, yet there was no snowfall to be seen. The Weather Gods mocked her. Since this village was on the outskirts of the court, furthest from the castle, they experienced the effects of dwindling powers first. The castle that stood at the center of the court brimmed with the final drops until the day of the Undertaking.
This brought Ludelle and Balvan here, still miles away from their intended destination. The rest of the way to the western village needed to be trekked on foot as the roads were beginning to soften, and the wheels of the carriage would have gotten stuck in the mud. Her guards flanked her, now, in case of an attack, but the quiet rural village didn’t pose a threat. Zimyn stayed to the back, ensuring nothing went awry from behind them. He avoided her gaze, just like she avoided his.
“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.
Zimyn huffed. She wasn’t wrong. When he was young, there was a point where he didn’t grow taller, but his feet grew bigger. Thankfully, over time, his height matched the feet that carried him, but it was an awkward few years.
Once the woman finished, she took his name and let him know when it would be ready.
He left the shop feeling such relief and excitement. The time was coming.
There was a small step right by the door of the shop that he forgot about and his foot landed on wet mud, causing him to fall straight down.
“Hopeless,” a familiar voice muttered.
Zimyn scrambled up, his uniform covered in mud. Ludelle was standing there, smirking at him.
“What are you doing here?” His eyes darted around. “What are you doing here alone?” he asked, more alarmed.
“I could ask the same,” she said inspecting her claws. He always loved the way the natural cobalt contrasted with her white skin.
“You should be with the others. You look like you couldn’t even fight away a small rabbit if it attacked you.”
Her mouth gaped. “What does that mean?”
“It means you look tired.”
“I’m fine.” But her jaw tensed. She knew he was right. He noticed it while they were speaking to the villagers. It was subtle, but he could see how hard she worked to keep her eyes open. He couldn’t blame her. She was under immense stress.
He reached out his hand. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you back to the castle.”
She reluctantly took it. Her hands were cold in his, so he squeezed tight, like he could infuse his own strength into her.
“You never said why you were in that shop.”
“It’s not important.”
He could have sworn he felt her heartbeat stop for just a moment, but he didn’t push it. He would tell her the truth soon, no matter how hard it would be.
As she promised the villagers, Ludelle went to the quiet divine temple room. The room was situated under the highest peak of the castle, as it reached closest to the Gods. Sveta had unlocked the room for her but gave her the privacy Ludelle craved. Being Queen meant that someone was always seeking her out or trailing in her shadow. However, she used her prayer time as an excuse to get people away because no one dared interrupt her as she spoke with the Weather Gods.
But all good things must come to an end, so she ended her session with one final ask to the Gods that her Undertaking be successful and blew the cold blue flames of the candles out.
The minister waited for her in robes so deeply blue they were practically black.
“May the Weather Gods hear your prayers,” Sveta said softly.
“Yes, let us hope that they took time out of their very busy lives to listen.”
“Do not forget that we are at their will. Everything we do must serve them.”
Ludelle scoffed. “And why do they not serve us?” Especially when Ludelle’s family had to risk their lives each year just to please them.
Sveta looked out the large window in the hallway. Small birds chirped as they fluttered around the trees. “They give us the power to live.”
“Is it really living when one has such minimal say in how they can live it?”
“You speak of your marriage, don’t you?”
“No.”
Sveta smiled, dipping her head as if sharing a joke with the Gods personally. “You must make sacrifices, as we all do.”
“Surely a marriage of love is more powerful than one that is forced due to responsibility.”
“A very astute thought, my Queen. One that I myself have pondered.” Sveta tapped her fingers against the small prayer book in her hands, her brown skin blending in with the brown leather. “Ultimately, the Undertaking is a way to prove to the Gods that you are willing to do whatever it takes to protect your court.”
A weak response, but Ludelle needed to move on to a different topic. A more urgent one.
“Power is depleting faster than normal. The western villages are practically under water with how quickly the snow and ice is melting.”
“That is strange.” Sveta rubbed her chin. “It could be a sign.”
“Of what?”
She shrugged. “It’s hard to know for sure. Perhaps that your Undertaking will go poorly, that you’ll fail.”
“How encouraging,” Ludelle said with a straight face but a spur of concern caught in her chest. She couldn’t let that happen.
“I am only here to listen to what the Gods tell me. If you seek comfort, then I’m sure one of your ladies in waiting will gladly provide it.”
Ludelle could always count on Sveta to bring the Gods into everything.
“My powers are also causing me trouble.”
That piqued Sveta’s interest. “What do you mean?”
“I have noticed that I am tired more often.” Ludelle put her palms upwards, creating a small flurry of snow. She winced as she did. “And something as simple as that physically hurts.”
“It’s not unheard of for the royal to struggle with their powers before an Undertaking. I wouldn’t worry too much. You won’t have them to use during the Undertaking, anyways.” She gave Ludelle a gentle pat on her shoulder. “Get some rest. Long days are ahead of you.”