She sighed, noticing for the first time that her hands were squeezing the reins so tightly her knuckles had turned white. Loosening her grip, she replied, “It’s been months since I last saw him. What if he no longer feels the same way?” She had heard nothing from him for the past two months. “Do you think the kingdom’s ready for this?”
He shrugged, seeming irritatingly calm about all this. “I think the question is, ‘Are yeh ready,’ my Queen?”
She fought the urge to chew on her lip, an “un-queen like” habit she had forced herself out of at the urging of her etiquette instructors. She had asked herself this very question a number of times, running it over with Wormwart on several occasions. “A wedding is a joyous occasion, and the people need another reason to celebrate and have fun,” he had said. He wholeheartedly thought it was a wonderful idea and had urged her to pursue it at the earliest possible time.
That time had been today, which was why they now rode toward Elyon, its purple mountains now so close she could clearly see the outline of the mountain path that would take them to Caspar’s doorstep.
She shifted her weight. Though she adored the silver gossamer gown she wore, she loathed that it required her to ride sidesaddle. She also felt like she had to sit up straighter, thanks to the added weight of the silver crown resting upon her head. “But what if he doesn’t agree? What if he doesn’t accept my proposal?” she asked. It made her cringe, voicing her worst fear about this whole expedition, but she had to be prepared for it.
“Ah, I wouldn’t worry too much,” Wormwart said, dismissing her worries. “Besides, there’s no other way around it. Yer a queen and he’s just a prince. Yer higher ranked than him, so by law he can’t ask. It’s up to yeh.”
She took a deep breath and sighed. “Yes, I know.” You’ve reminded me of that several times now.
They rode the rest of the way in silence, her mind too preoccupied with planning what she was going to say to Caspar. She had rehearsed a hundred speeches in her head and none of them sounded right. “You’ll know what to say when the time is right,” Wormwart had said, but it did nothing to make her feel better.
To her surprise, the mountain path was very well kept. She supposed the Elyonians wanted no obstructions for travelers and merchants taking this road, which was the most direct way to the Golden City. As they climbed in elevation, the temperature dropped slightly and the wind picked up, rippling their silver-poled white banners. Natalia had chosen a rose as her crest, to symbolize when she first learned she could use magic. It was a symbol of healing and new beginnings, as was her queenly name of “Snow White.” And so, a white rose was emblazoned upon every helmet, and it was sewn into the Thesperian flag and on all the banners. She even wore white roses in her hair. That is, if this insufferable wind didn’t blow them all out.
Dusk had fallen and stars littered the sky by the time they reached Elyon’s tall golden gates. She had written weeks ahead to the king, asking him to grant her entrance but on the condition he didn’t tell his son. She wanted it to be a complete surprise. Not two days had passed before she received a letter confirming his acceptance, and preparations were underway at once.
Excitement bubbled beneath her skin as the main entrance guards bowed and opened the gates, allowing her party through. As they rode into the city, she took strength from the fact the other dwarves, all of whom had enlisted as soldiers in her personal guard, rode behind her, along with several other trained soldiers who had volunteered for service.
A sharp thrill went through her at seeing the tall golden buildings, their high-arched windows illuminated by the myriad of tall torches lining the paved streets. It was so beautiful, with the starlight dancing on the gold-paved roads and rooftops, that she wondered what it looked like during the day, graced by sunlight.
Like heaven, I imagine.
Her eyes flicked upward and her breath caught. There was the castle, rising several hundred feet in the air, embedded directly into the side of the mountain. “My stars,” she breathed, taking it in. People – all dressed in indigo robes, for Elyon was one of the top makers of indigo dye – stopped to peer curiously at them. She smiled warmly, holding her head high like she had been trained to do, not so much to appear arrogant, but rather, regal.
They rode forward, straight down the main street leading directly to the enormous golden gates of the castle. The golden turrets glittered in the waning light. In the center of it all sat the grand gold statue of Elios, the founding father of the city.
“Remarkable,” Natalia said, unable to find adequate words to describe it.
“Yes, it’s a wonder to behold,” Wormwart agreed, his expression closely resembling hers.
When the steps in the grand staircase were visible, a triangle of orange light fell on the stairs as the front doors were thrown open and a silhouette ran toward them, practically flying down the stairs. The figure sprinted forward, and she drew her horse to a sudden stop when the torchlight hit blond hair and a pair of vivid green eyes.
“Caspar,” she breathed.
She drank him in with her eyes, from his velvet indigo tunic to the golden brocade lining his shoulders. A golden circlet rested on his head and his hair hung freely past his shoulders. It looked a little longer, and he looked older, wiser. More handsome.
She blushed. It’s okay to think he’s attractive. You are here to ask him to marry you.
He slowed when he was within a few feet, panting and staring back at her with wide, haunted eyes as a cluster of guards raced to catch up with him. He walked right up to her and they stared at each other for a few silent moments, the sounds of his rapid breathing the only noise in the square.
At last, she smiled. “Hello, Caspar.”
Shaking his head, he cleared his throat and bowed. “My Queen,” he said, rising.
Seeing him standing before her eyes brought her incredible strength. She always thought when this moment would come her knees would be shaking so badly she could hardly stand. She dreamed up nightmarish scenarios where unintelligible words would be flowing from her mouth as she tried to spit out what had been on her heart for several long nights now.
Feeling braver, she held her hand out to him and he stepped forward, circling his hands around her waist as he helped her dismount. Heat rushed to her cheeks as they faced each other, their bodies mere inches apart.
“It’s been a long time,” she said, a little breathlessly.
“Indeed,” he returned, sounding a bit winded himself. “It has.”
She searched his eyes, mentally bracing herself. “Caspar, there are so many things that need to be said. We have much catching up to do.” She paused, her heart picking up speed. Here goes.
She never got a chance to say it. He smiled widely. “Indeed, we do. Please, won’t you come inside, all of you?” He looked around at her party. “You’ve traveled all this way. The least we can do is give you a good meal and find you chambers for the evening.”
She faltered, not knowing whether to be relieved or disappointed.
He searched her eyes, doubt creeping over his face. “Is something wrong?”
She blinked and pasted on a smile she knew was way too bright. “No, of course not! I – er, we – would love to come in.”
She could have smacked herself. Let’s hope your feet are more graceful than your tongue, she thought as he offered her his arm and led her toward the staircase. She approached the steps with a little trepidation. The moment she had showed up at the stables wearing riding boots beneath her gown, Wormwart had grown a nasty frown and immediately sent her back into the castle. Begrudgingly, she had returned with a pair of the smallest heels she could find. Damn dwarf. She took each step carefully, using Caspar’s arm to balance herself. The stairs must have been freshly polished because they were as slick as the cliffs by the waterfall.
She had to mentally force herself not to sigh with relief when they reached the top and Caspar showed them all to the dining hall. A boy who looked like a miniatu
re version of Caspar walked up to them, looking her up and down with a widening smile. “So this is the infamous Snow.”
“Jaspar,” Caspar said sharply, “watch your tongue. Her name is Snow White.”
He smirked at his older brother. “But you’re allowed to call her Snow.”
“That’s beside the point,” Caspar said, blushing slightly. He looked at her, unsure. “At least, I think it’s still all right for me to call you Snow?”
She touched his arm and squeezed, smiling. “That never changed.”
Jaspar made a sound that sounded like muffled laughing, and Caspar glared at him hard. Jaspar tagged alongside them as they walked toward the dining hall, chatting animatedly with Natalia while Caspar groaned at her side, making her chuckle.
Dinner was great fun. The king was too ill to join them and that dampened the mood somewhat, though it was the most peace she had felt in years. It was nice to be someone else’s guest for a change rather than entertaining every rubberneck and court politician within seven kingdoms. Throughout dinner, she found herself catching Caspar’s eyes, and then they would both look away until it happened again a few seconds later.
After dinner, they were each showed to their rooms, and Caspar rather pointedly dismissed his brother, who winked at them and made a kissing face before strutting off humming to himself, much to their embarrassment. Caspar walked her to her room. It took her breath away; it was no less stunning than the rest of the place. Everything was done in warm shades of cream, gold, and white. The curtains of the canopied bed floated on the warm breeze drifting in from the open balcony. The air smelled fresher at this elevation, like it was too far removed from the impurities of city life to be affected by it. Natalia immediately crossed the room and went to the balcony, inhaling deep. “Your kingdom is incredible.”
“I realize I’m luckier than most,” Caspar said, walking up to her and clasping his hands behind his back.
They stared out into the starry night, torches and lights from houses below dotting the landscape in twinkling orange and yellow lights. Neither seemed willing to bid the other farewell.
“I’ve missed you, Snow,” Caspar said quietly.
She turned, catching his eyes. They were gazing at her with an intensity that made her heart melt. “And I you. I can’t believe you’re standing here, right in front of me.” She reached out and cupped his face, caressing his cheek. He leaned into her touch, closing his eyes and resting his hand over her own.
“I’ve dreamed of this,” he whispered. “Of the moment when we’d meet again.”
“Me too,” she whispered back.
He stepped closer, and she had to look up at him to see his eyes. “I wish I could have come to you, to be of more aid,” he said. “I know these past few months have not been easy.”
“It’s fine. Your father – your own kingdom – needed you more.”
“But do you need me?”
Her heart flipped. “Yes, Caspar. I’ll always need you.”
He searched her eyes and then his gaze dropped to her mouth, but he did not move to kiss her. Face growing hot, she broke his gaze and looked back across the city, feeling like a coward.
“I should let you rest, my Lady,” Caspar said, starting to bow.
“No, wait.” She gripped his forearm. “Please stay.”
He seemed to hold his breath and then he smiled. “Of course.”
They talked all night, going over the lost details of the past few months and discussing how to handle foreign policies. They laughed, they cried, they relished one another’s company and the warm glow that comes from finding someone who totally understands and accepts you for who you are. Somewhere over in the night her crown came off because it was giving her a headache, and they sat down on the balcony and leaned up against the wall, with her head resting on his shoulder and his head leaned against the top of hers. They were so caught up in their conversation that they didn’t notice dawn was upon them until the first yellow rays broke the horizon, cascading over the forest and straight onto their faces.
She squinted against the sudden brightness, watching breathlessly as the sky turned bright blue and the city lit up like it had absorbed the sunlight.
There were no words to describe it. It was utterly breathtaking.
Just like heaven.
A breeze ruffled Caspar’s hair and she turned her head, looking at him. Sunlight suited him; it created a halo around his hair and lit up the gold flecks in his green eyes. For all his insecurities and flaws, he was the most beautiful, perfect creature she had ever seen.
Maybe it was because she was delirious from lack of sleep. But for whatever reason, she found a strange sense of peace and rightness settling over her as she said, “Caspar, will you marry me?”
At first, she was afraid he hadn’t heard her, but then she noticed his eyes weren’t blinking and his mouth had dropped open slightly. Slowly, he turned his head, gazing at her wide-eyed and hopeful. “Do you mean it?”
She smiled. “Yes. Why else would I ask, silly?”
He stared at her, speechless.
She suddenly grew aware of her unkempt hair, of the no doubt sagging rose blossoms in her curls. Looking away, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “If you don’t want –”
“Yes.”
Her head snapped around. “Yes?”
He was smiling, and her heart soared. “Yes, my Lady. I would be honored to be your husband.”
She couldn’t help it. She cried, wrapping her arms around his neck as he tangled his hands in her hair, pulling her into a kiss as fiery as the rays scorching the skies.
“I love you, Natalia,” he said after they broke apart, resting his forehead against hers. “I always have, and I always will.”
“I love you too,” she said back.
It didn’t dawn on her until later that he had called her by her real name.
They kissed as the sun rose higher in the sky and the birds started to sing. A dove, white as snow, lighted on the balcony railing and cocked its head at them. It cooed, ruffled its feathers happily, and took off, sailing into the growing light of what would be one of many beautiful days to come.
THE END
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
A White So Red was one of the most difficult books for me to write, and because of that, I needed a lot of help to “get it right.” Big “thanks” go out to my army of beta readers: Kathy, David, Christie, Bonnie, Jillian, Janae, Midu, Karen, Terri, and Sarah. Without your invaluable input, this story would have turned out a lot different. Thanks for sharing the journey.
To my fiancé, Tobias, thank you for calming my fears and easing my doubts. I love you more than words can express.
To Robin, thank you again for yet another beautiful cover.
To my mom, thanks for telling me not to give up on this.
To my readers and fans, thank you for always being there with encouragement and to cheer me on. Your support means more than you’ll ever know.
CALL FOR REVIEWS
First, thank you for reading A White So Red. I hope you enjoyed it. I need your help with something. If you can spare a few minutes, I’d love if you would consider posting an honest review to Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Smashwords, or the retailer of your choice. Reviews benefit both readers and authors. They help readers make informed buying decisions, and they help authors gain visibility in a crowded marketplace. So if you wouldn’t mind posting an honest review, I’d greatly appreciate it.
Take care and thanks again.
Krystle
About the Author
Krystle Jones was born and raised in the small, southern town of Tullahoma, Tennessee. Reading and writing have been lifelong passions of hers. In addition to being a novelist, she is also an award-winning flutist and moonlights as a voice actress. Her voice can be heard in the popular online game, Alice is Dead 3.
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Other titles
The Scarlet Dagger (#1, The Red Sector Chronicles) Now available
Dark Horizons (#2, The Red Sector Chronicles) Coming Soon
Veiled Innocence (#1, The Soul Cycle) Now available
Darkest Destiny (#2, The Soul Cycle) Coming soon
Keep going for a sneak peek at the first three chapters of Veiled Innocence.
Sneak peek
VEILED INNOCENCE
Book 1 of The Soul Cycle
PROLOGUE
Devil
Age of Stars – The Empire of Stradvär
IN THAT FLEETING MOMENT of peace between waking and dreaming, everything was black and wonderful. There was no sound to remind her of the dying, no sight to see the heavens stained in dawn’s blood, or pain to feel the poison flooding her veins.
Time suspended as Vishka slowly opened her eyes. As she stared at the stars in that eerie stillness, threads of color flickered before her, one for each sound. Yellow was the snapping of burning kindle; blue, the hungry hiss of the river coiling around the flagship like a serpent crushing its prey. Throughout the span of her short life, she had always been able to “see” sounds, though never so vividly as she did now on Death’s doorstep. She drew breath and nearly choked on the sharp tang of brimstone.
A White So Red Page 39
