The air at the base of the Black Ridge was thin and bitingly cold. The King's lead scouts returned from the summit, their faces flush with the exertion of the climb.
"The sky is clear, My Lord," the lead scout reported to Lord Kaldric.
"The wind is holding steady. If we move now, the vanguard can clear the narrow ridge before nightfall. No storm is coming."
I looked up at the sky. I knew that color. I had seen it before the blizzards that buried the hovels of the poor.
"The storm will come," I whispered, my voice raspy from the cold.
"It will arrive before we reach the peak. The birds have gone silent, and the wind smells of ice. We should wait. It is not safe to depart."
Lord Kaldric, already mounting his horse, looked down at me with mockery.
The softness of the night before was gone, replaced by the rigid officer. He let out a short, mocking huff.
"The King's scouts are trained in the terrain of the north, Ardelle. You are trained in... what? Watching the puddles?" He tightened his grip on the reins.
"We do not halt a royal march because a girl is afraid of a breeze. Keep up, or you will be left for the wolves to find."
'That breeze alone could swallow us all, do not challenge the destruction of nature.'
I wanted to retort but didn't and mounted behind, holding him steadily as we marched.
We were halfway across the narrowest part of the ridge when the world turned white.
The scouts had been wrong. The clear sky vanished in a heartbeat, replaced by a screaming gale that whipped snow into a blinding wall.
The horses panicked, their hooves slipping on the stone, dispersing havoc in the parade.
And I truly wanted to mock him at that moment. 'I told you so, you empty-headed knight.' But I wouldn't dare, he was already distressed and angry.
"Halt! Group together!" Lord Kaldric's voice roared over the wind, but it was muffled by the roar of the storm.
In the chaos, his hand slid behind and in one smooth motion, I was in front of him. I blinked to perceive what happened as I found him leaning forward to press me harder into him.
"Hold onto me tight, Ardelle. Do not let go of me." His voice came, shaky from the cold.
He pulled me into his arms, dragging us toward a shallow overhang in the rock. He pinned us against the stone, undone his fur cloak and draped it around me to block me entirely from the blizzard.
His massive frame acted as a shield against the freezing needles of ice, his head too neck as I could feel his heavy breathing forming goosebumps all over.
"I am here," he whispered into my ear, his breath the only warmth left in the world that made me lift my gaze.
"You are safe. I have you, Ardelle. I have you." He continued, wrapping his both hands around me and unnecessarily pulled me into an embrace.
My body froze, my mind went blank as his embrace eradicated the hollowness I carried in a heartbeat. Shocked at how easy it was for him to erase my complaint, my hands instinctively moved around him.
For a second, the fear receded. In the heart of the storm, I found the Pillar holding me, his large hands over me, blocking me from the snow.
He had been wrong, but he was here. He was protecting me.
And that… swayed me.
"That's right. Keep on holding me, just me. I am here." He hummed, brushing his lips against my neck that made my eyes snap open and look at him with pure astonishment.
His eyes were closed, his helm, he had lifted it slightly, to do that, stiffening my whole being. Was it some sort of warmth I was unaware of?
"My- My Lord?" I called shyly.
Curling my toes at the weird sensation I received when his lips pressed harder on my jawline now, his teeth grazing the skin slightly with hefty breaths.
"The blizzard. How long do you think it will last?" He asked, abruptly trusting my judgement now, lifting the cloak away slightly, allowing me to catch the sight.
Then, it came before I could reply.
A low, haunting blast of a horn echoed through the pass. One. Two. Three.
The King's signal.
The rebels hadn't waited for the storm to pass, they were using the white-out to ambush the royal carriage.
Lord Kaldric stiffened. I felt his heart thundering despite the armor, not with fear for me, but with the call of the soldier.
"The King," he breathed out, his eyes turning toward the direction of the horn.
"No," I gasped, clutching his breastplate, my fingers numbing instantly, shaking my head in denial.
"Lord Kaldric, don't. The frost... the wind is too strong. If you leave me here, I will freeze. I cannot stay warm without you." I whispered desperately, fearing the intensity of the blizzard.
"I have to go, Ardelle." he whispered, his voice sounding strangled. He began to untangle my fingers from his armor.
"My vow... my honor. If the King falls, the kingdom follows."
"I will die!" I screamed, the wind snatching the words from my lips.
"Lord Kaldric, please! You said you were here! You said I was safe!"
He looked at me, and for a fleeting second. He pulled his spare fur from the horse's saddle and threw it over me, shoving me deeper into the crevice of the rock.
"Stay here. Do not move from this spot," he ordered, his face hesitant of agonizing duty.
"I will return for you. I promise on my life, Ardelle. I will return."
"Kaldric!"
He didn't look back. He vanished into the white wall of the storm, the sound of his horse's hooves swallowed by the howling gale.
I was alone. The luxury of his cloak was already losing its heat. As the ice began to crust on my eyelashes, I realized that I had been right all along.
I had made a wrong prayer.
I should have prayed for a protector, a compassionate partner who wouldn't handle me to death when the situation arrives.
With a protector, life in muds would be beautiful, with a compassionate companion, laughter would have followed, not silence, crushed hearts, or coldness.
But, to my misforunte, I had been claimed by a man who belonged to a King.
I curled into a ball, the darkness of the frost closing in, and wondered if he would even remember which rock he had hidden his 'eyesore' behind when the sun finally rose.
The cold was no longer a sensation, it was a thief. It stole the feeling from my toes, then my fingers, and finally, the very memory of warmth.
I lay curled in the crevice of the rock, draped in the furs Lord Kaldric had thrown over me, but they were weights of ice.
Every breath was a struggle against the frost settling in my lungs. My mind drifted. I saw the black rose, crushed and beautiful.
I saw my mother's face. I waited for the silver eyes of my husband to pierce the white veil of the storm, but the only sound was the mocking howl of the wind.
'You promised,' I thought, but my heart was too tired to hold onto the resentment.
My eyes drifted shut, the snow beginning to blanket my form, turning me into just another stone on the ridge.
A hand suddenly gripped my shoulder. It wasn't the heavy, crushing grip of a Commander. It was a frantic shake to drag me out from my miserable end.
"Lady Ardelle! Gods, Ardelle, wake up!"
Through the haze of the white-out, I didn't see silver eyes. I saw the blue gaze of Sir Aldwin, his face pale with horror.
"It's alright. I've got you, My Lady. I am here."
He didn't wait for a response. He hauled me into his arms, wrapping his own cloak over Kaldric's furs, and began the desperate descent toward the base of the ridge.
*
*
*
THIRD POV:
The battle at the pass was over. The King was secure, the rebels scattered into the crags, but Kaldric's triumphant feeling was non-existent.
The moment the last sword was sheathed, he had turned his horse back toward the ridge, pushing the beast until its lungs heaved in the frozen air.
He reached the crevice. He leapt from his saddle before the horse had even stopped.
"Ardelle!"
He reached into the hollow of the rock, his hands grasping for the furs, for the woman. But his fingers met only cold stone and a drift of fresh snow.
A coldness far sharper than the blizzard began to crawl up his spine. He circled the area, his horse neighing in distress, his silver eyes scanning the white expanse with a frantic, wild energy.
He spun around, staring into the fading storm. She was gone. The woman he had promised to return for, had vanished into the mountain.
"ARDELLE! WHERE ARE YOU!?" he roared, his voice breaking against the peaks.
He found nothing. No body. No tracks. For the first time in his life, the Obsidian Pillar felt his knees go weak. He didn't think of his mother's letter. He didn't think of his father's shame.
He thought only of the small, laughing girl who liked apples, left to die in the dark because he had followed a vow.
He found her an hour later in the makeshift infirmary tent at the edge of the camp. He burst through, snow still melting off his armor, his face filled with desperation.
But his path was blocked.
Sir Aldwin stood in the center of the narrow aisle, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He didn't bow. He didn't offer a report. He looked at the Commander with a disgust that was sharper than any rebel blade.
"Where is she?" Kaldric demanded, his voice ragged. "Is she—"
"She is alive, no thanks to you," Aldwin spat.
"Move, Ornstein," Kaldric hissed, his eyes darting toward the cot at the back of the tent where a healer was hovering, "Let me through."
"No," Aldwin said, his voice dangerously quiet, "I think you've done quite enough for one day, Commander."
"She is my bride," Kaldric growled, losing his composure, "Do not forget your place, Knight. I will see her."
"Your bride?" Aldwin let out a harsh, mocking laugh that drew the eyes of every wounded man in the tent.
"You left her to turn into a statue of ice. I found her. She was nearly a corpse, Kaldric. You left a woman who cannot even read a map alone in a Northern blizzard."
"The King was under fire," Kaldric rasped, glancing toward the bed. "My duty—"
"My Liege has endless men for his protection. But her? She had you only. Most certainly, you are the greatest soldier in the Emberspear, Kaldric." Aldwin pushed him back slightly, his face filled with disgust and wrath, pointing his finger contemptuously at him.
"But as a partner? As a man? You are the worst I have ever seen. May no woman be married to a woman like yourself, Kaldric Dawnstride."
"Enough!" Kaldric's roar brought instant silence.
But realizing the position, it was quickly replaced with shame as Kaldric's face drained of color, his hand twitching toward his own sword.
Rolling his eyes off, Aldwin walked past mockingly, he leaned in, whispering so only Kaldric could hear.
"I hope the King's gratitude keeps you warm at night, Commander. Because she certainly won't."
Kaldric didn't strike him. He couldn't. He stumbled toward the cot, his composure slipping at her bluish body.
Ardelle lay beneath a mountain of blankets, but she was deathly still. Her skin was the color of blue marble, her lips pale and cracked.
A bowl of hot stones sat at her feet, and the healer was rubbing her hands with coarse oil to bring back the blood.
Kaldric sank to his knees beside the bed. He reached out, his gloved hand trembling as he touched her cheek tentatively, hoping it would not break the skin.
"Ardelle," he whispered in a broken tone, his lips quivering.
She didn't move. She didn't groan.
She was lost in a frost he had led her into, and for the first time in his life, the Obsidian Pillar realized that some vows didn't protect you.
They only left you standing alone in the dark.