Sapphire and Steel
Blood and Ice Book One
Violet Froste
Sapphire and Steel © 2019 by Violet Froste.
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Beta-read by: Aubrey Verona
This book is for M.Y. - my number one
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
Chapter IV
Chapter V
Chapter VI
Chapter VII
Chapter VIII
Chapter IX
Chapter X
Chapter XI
Chapter XII
Chapter XIII
Chapter XIV
Chapter XV
Chapter XVI
Chapter XVII
Chapter XVIII
Chapter XIX
Chapter XX
The End
About the Author
Mailing List
Rubies and Roses
Flower and Flame
Chapter I
Aster the Captain of the Guard
Aster’s eyes were wide open, peering into the darkness, her hands seeking the longsword at her side. A faint noise had torn her from her sleep and she now lay vividly awake, every sense straining.
She had been the last person in the camp to fall asleep, and the flames of the small fire outside still glowed through the fabric of the tent. She must only have been asleep for a few hours. She could hear the wind humming through the trees and the faint crackling of the kindling being consumed by flames, but nothing else.
Perhaps it had only been a small woodland creature, or a guard trudging through the woods to relieve himself. It was bitterly cold outside and Aster’s bedding was soft and warm - but she could take no chances on this journey. Pulling on her boots quietly, she gripped her sword by its crossguard and slipped out of the tent.
Between the faint blue starlight and the weak glow of the embers spewing from the fire, everything was black. As Aster’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could make out the trees - ancient oaks and pointed firs - crowding the small circle of tents that formed her camp. Nothing but the branches and the leaves stirred. All the lanterns had been blown out, and she could not smell the telltale sulfur of a recently extinguished wick. She walked through the tents, careful not to snap any twigs below her feet. If somebody had found the camp, she did not want to alert them to her presence.
She widened the circle of her search, entering the underbrush of the forest. She could barely see and held her free hand up in front of her, groping for branches and tree-trunks. No matter how difficult it was to search the darkness, it was her duty to ensure no intruder had found the camp. And if they had, it was her duty to find them and kill them if she must.
When King Owayn had sent her on this journey, he had made it clear what would happen if anything should go wrong:
“This alliance is crucial. Protect it at all cost.”
Aster had nodded curtly. Even now she still rankled at the king’s words. He had made it clear that the “alliance” was the most important objective of Aster’s mission. Not the wellbeing of his only daughter, the princess of Veritier, or her safety and happiness. No - her marriage to the prince of Karscha was all that mattered to him. Doubtless, he dreamt of what this powerful alliance would mean for his coffers and his endless campaigns against Arkavik.
Aster doubted he had even asked Adrienna what she thought of her marriage. She wanted to ask the young princess, but dared not. Adrienna had been melancholy throughout the journey, and Aster had thought it best not to exacerbate her misery. Besides, Adrienna would speak to her when she was ready.
After an hour of careful searching, Aster was reassured that she must only have heard a woodland animal. She tiptoed back towards her small tent, which faced the princess’s tent across the fire.
She had long dreaded this journey. The road between Veritier and Karscha was merciless; a treacherous march through mountains and hills, with great barren landscapes where bandits and wolves roved in equal measures. But no matter how much Aster had interceded with the king to send soldiers to accompany them, he had refused.
“Nobody must know of this alliance until it happens. It will bring the attention of too many forces - I will not contend with them. The Princessguard is enough.”
In a sense, the king had been right. The smaller the group, the less likely they were to be found, noticed, or attacked. But if they were attacked, then they were at a much greater risk.
Aster slipped into her bedroll, gazing across the fire at Adrienna’s tent. The king’s worries were not the same as Aster’s, but ultimately he knew the truth of Aster’s heart: that she would do whatever it took to protect the princess, even if it meant laying down her own life. Lulled by the slow rush of the wind outside, Aster fell back into an uneasy sleep.
When she awoke the next morning, she was unrested and irritable. She needed sleep to stay alert in the day but was too alert at night to sleep properly. It was affecting her: she felt how drawn the skin around her eyes was, how much more sluggish she was during training routines with the other guards each morning and night.
Despite her fatigue, she pulled on her armour and left the tent. Adrienna was already outside, wrapped in her azure mantle, her feathery dark hair pinned around her head in a crown of braids. A steaming cup nestled between her hands and she huddled close to the fire.
“Oh, Aster, come! Come sit by me!” she called out eagerly once she realised Aster had emerged from her tent.
Aster obeyed, crouching by the fire and pouring herself some tea from the boiling pot. She looked over at the princess; her blue eyes were wide, her cheeks flushed. She seemed in a better mood today.
“Did you sleep well?” Adrienna asked, lightly touching Aster’s arm. “You look affright. I hoped you would sleep a while longer this morning.”
Aster smiled at her. Sometimes she feared that Adrienna mistook their roles, that she thought she was the one in charge of safeguarding Aster and not the other way around. In truth, she treated Aster as she might treat her own sister. Aster knew why: for most of her life, she had been just another one of the castle’s bastard children, raised in the kitchens, scrapping with city children and raising hell all across the servants’ quarters. As a teenager, Aster had tended the barracks and stables, and after a while began training with the young squires.
It wasn’t until she was sixteen that her resemblance to the princess had become widely noticed around the castle. Soon after, the king turned his attention to her. He had neither claimed Aster as his nor rejected the rumours of her parentage. Instead, he had made her part of the Princessguard, where Aster now remained five years later.
No matter how many rumours circulated, Aster did not believe deep in her heart that the king was her father. But she knew that Adrienna believed it - or rather, desperately wanted to believe it.
“I wish I had your gift of being able to sleep through the direst of storms,” Aster said. “I am far too delicate in my sleep. Travelling puts me on edge.”
It was not travelling that put her on edge - it was the fear that something might happen to Adrienna. She was the most important thing in Aster’s life: she had been the first person to speak to her as an equal, to exte
nd the hand of friendship, to cherish her as though she deserved a place in this world. Growing up a bastard had not been easy - being Adrienna’s guard and her friend had given her a place, a purpose, a friendship as genuine as she had ever known.
“I know you worry about me,” Adrienna muttered into her cup. “Please, Aster. I am well. I have been… I have been rather cantankerous, and I apologise.”
“You never need to apologise to me, princess,” Aster grinned, endeared. “The love I bear you would forgive any offence, but this is no offence. You’ve every right to be… cantankerous.”
“Just because I am a princess does not give me the right to be miserable.”
“No, but I hear brides often feel melancholy when they are on their way to meet the stranger they must marry.”
A surprised peel of laughter burst from Adrienna. She threw her head back in her mirth, and her beauty struck Aster anew. She often wondered that the princess should be so similar to her and yet so different: where Aster was tall and slim, Adrienna was small and sensuous - and yet both women shared the same dark brown hair and blue eyes that connected them to the man who had brought them together.
Aster did not think blood linked her to Adrienna, but she often thought of Adrienna as the version of her that might have existed had an enchantress lavished every blessing of beauty and grace upon her.
“The stranger I must marry might very well end up handsome and amiable,” Adrienna said at last, smiling shyly through the steam that wreathed from her cup.
“And I hear Karschan men make excellent lovers,” Aster pointed out wickedly.
A blush spread across Adrienna’s cheeks as she giggled.
“You’re so outrageous, Aster. You say these things but I believe you’ve never even kissed a man, let alone taken a lover… Karschan or otherwise.”
Aster stood up and gave the princess a smirk: “I’m not like you. I don’t spend my time in a tower dreaming of a handsome fairy prince to sweep me away.” She tied the laces at her sides and strapped her sword to her back, tightening the buckle across her chest. “But worry not, I’ll tell you everything you need to know before your wedding night.”
“I’d learn more from Althius,” Adrienna quipped, pointing her chin at the master of arms. The grizzled old man was eating a hearty breakfast of bread and cheese, regaling some guards with tales of his misadventures. Aster burst out laughing. Althius was old and bawdy and had never taken a wife. Many of his stories savoured strongly of myth. Aster leaned down and whispered in Adrienna’s ear:
“You very well might. I hear he has a massive cock.”
The princess choked on her tea and Aster walked off, the sound of Adrienna coughing and laughing all at once warming her surer than any fire.
A while later the tents were rolled up and packed away and Aster was helping Adrienna up on her horse. When they set off, the Princessguard moved into their formation around Adrienna, with Aster riding next to her. It was a traditional guard of eight, with Aster as the ninth guard and captain.
Although she was not the most experienced of the nine, Aster was the fiercest and most loyal. She was also the only one rumoured to be related to the princess, and Aster often wondered if that had been part of Owayn’s reason for promoting her. She would never know. All she knew was that Adrienna was the most precious thing in the world to her.
The day’s travel was long and punishing. Riding through the forest had been fairly pleasant, the evergreens protecting them from most of the rain that had fallen throughout the morning. They had crossed a river by passing on a rickety bridge, almost on the edge of Veritier now. After they crossed the border, they would be in the mountains that offered their natural protection to Karscha, and the going would get rougher.
Aster had warned the king that setting off at this time of year was a mistake. The autumns in Veritier were stormy and torrential, turning most of its fields into perilous marshland. The wintertime would be bitter and biting, and Karscha’s land was elevated, prone to heavy snowfalls and cruel blizzards.
“Then go as fast as you can,” King Owayn had retorted back then. "Get her to Karscha, Aster. That is your only mission.”
Aster shook her head, tossing the king’s voice out of her mind. Thinking of him made her furious, and she needed to remain calm throughout the journey. She spent most of the day cheering up Adrienna with lewd tales of Althius’ conquests, trying to speak quietly enough that he might not hear and confirm or deny the scandalous yarns she spun. Adrienna laughed and giggled, her melancholy temporarily banished.
Soon the sun sank low over the horizon, turning the sky amber and pink and a deep, dusky purple. Aster dismounted and ordered the Princessguard to make camp. Adrienna made a fire whilst the men and women of the guard assembled the tents, then watched contentedly as Aster led the evening training drills. Adrienna never grew weary of watching them, which surprised Aster. The princess had never been fond of duels or gladiatorial combats, but she loved watching her guards train and spar.
After a long, gruelling hour of training, the guard and the princess shared a supper of peppery potato stew and sliced apples with some ale. Aster usually disapproved of the guard drinking alcohol, especially whilst travelling. But it was getting colder, and they had been trudging through dull heaths and forests for days now. She hated seeing the way their shoulders stooped, their conversations short and stunted.
The morale of the guard mattered to her. These were good, honourable men and women, risking their lives for their princess. They did not deserve to be sent so far from their homes and families, moved about the land as though they were pieces on a chessboard.
Aster knew she had nothing to lose - the only person she cared about rode at her side every day. But the other warriors had lovers, wives or husbands, some even had children. They all had lives to live, and watching them grow tired, sad and bored made Aster’s heart heavy with guilt.
That evening, Aster took it upon herself to raise the morale. Taking a few hearty sips from Althius’ dubious flask, she stood to sing a ribald ballad. She remembered only some of it, butchering the lyrics, singing both false and flat, and her attempt ended up being more offensive than anything else, but soon everybody was laughing or joining in. Althius lent the gravity of his voice to the melody with a few obscene additions of his own. The youngest guard, Markus, soon picked up the melody, surprising everyone with his ability to sing.
Once the sky had darkened to pitch everybody retired to their tents to prepare for sleep. Aster stayed by the fire, watching the guards leave one by one or in pairs. At the start of their journey, they had taken turns keeping night vigils. Now that they were deep in the wilderness Aster let the guards sleep through the night and stayed up herself until everybody was asleep.
She checked around the camp one last time: all day they had been travelling through great windswept moors and they had set up camp in a small copse nestled against the lazy slope of a hill. The horses stood tied to some nearby trees further down the hill, far enough that their movements would not falsely arouse Aster’s suspicion if she heard noises in the night.
As satisfied as she would get that they were safe and alone, Aster crawled into Adrienna’s tent to check on her. The princess was still awake, sitting on her bedroll, brushing her long dark tresses through with a pearl comb. She was staring pensively into the flickering flame of the lantern and looked up with a smile as Aster entered.
“Your singing is almost as horrifying as your stories,” she whispered with a little smirk.
“Mm. Perhaps I should give up my secret dream of becoming a travelling bard, then.”
“Will you stay with me tonight, Aster?” Adrienna asked suddenly. “I feel safer with you here.”
“Nothing will happen to you,” Aster said. “I promise you.”
“I know. I trust you. But it would make me feel so much better. Please?”
Aster nodded and fetched her bedroll from her tent. Once she had settled it next to Adrienna’s, she pul
led the laces of her leather cuirass and lifted it off her. Underneath her armour she wore her customary undershirt of pale blue wool, a soft, unadorned garment. She stretched her arms back, pulling on her sore muscles. She rolled her head, feeling the pain that burned along her neck and shoulders.
She was exhausted and in agony from the ride; she wondered whether Adrienna felt the same. The princess was the kind to suffer in silence. Delicate yet stoic, she often surprised Aster with her ability to withstand suffering without complaint.
“Come, let me comb your hair,” Adrienna said lightly once Aster had finished pulling off her greaves and boots. “It’s a surprise a bird has not chosen it for its nest yet.”
Aster raised her hand to her head. Her hair was long and more often than not weaved tightly into a plain, severe braid slung over one shoulder. She usually brushed it after she bathed, but the opportunities to do so had been lacking recently. It must be a mess of tangles by now.
She opened her mouth to decline Adrienna’s offer but was stopped by the princess’s expectant face and delighted expression. If it should please Adrienna, there was no point in resisting. The princess could ask almost anything of Aster, and she would get it.
So Aster settled herself in front of Adrienna and let her gently pull apart her braid, arranging the long strands over her shoulders and running the pearl comb through. The teeth of the comb tugged tentatively at the tangles and Adrienna unpicked every one of them with endless patience.
“I am afraid I will hate my husband,” she whispered after a long stretch of heavy silence.
Aster sighed. “Aye. I know. And I am afraid something might happen to you on this journey.”
Adrienna squeezed her shoulder. “I know you are. What a sorry pair we make.”
“Perhaps your groom will be as handsome as the fairy princes you conjure up in your head.”
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