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The wind howled to them like the souls of the lost. Cordelia could hardly tell the sky from the earth, grays and whites blending into one. The snow fell relentlessly upon them, snowflakes dancing in her field of vision as they made their way down. Cordelia tightened her fur coat around her chest, her hands struggling to find their grasp through the thick gloves.

The monotone droning was only broken up by the sharp rattling of metal against metal that Avlora’s armor emitted. Her boots came down heavily, crushing the freshly fallen snow with a hearty crunch.

“Thank goodness I’m not making this journey alone,” Cordelia said, inching ever so slightly closer to Avlora’s side, “I would have surely lost my way by now if it wasn’t for you.”

“Aesfrost’s forges will run cold before King Roland lets you wander by yourself.” Avlora’s dry tone of voice made it hard to tell whether she was speaking in jest or earnest. “Besides that, the ravine doesn’t leave much room for getting lost. I’d rather worry about wild beasts or the odd bandit.”

Cordelia sighed. “I’m not wandering; I’m on a diplomatic venture.”

Roland knew as much, knew the challenges she had faced during Gustadolph’s rule over Glenbrook. None of that had the power to break the picture he held of her, that of a frightened girl that clung to her brother’s tailcoat. She wondered what it would take to finally shatter it.

“In any case, I’m glad it’s you who’s accompanying me.” Cordelia managed to smile, even when the frost made her face feel stiff.

“Likewise, I’m glad I was chosen to keep you safe, my lady.”

Cordelia caught Avlora attempting to return her smile; the crinkle of her eyes betrayed it.

“Consider me in your capable hands.”

When Cordelia spotted the speck of red in the corner of her vision, her stomach clenched at the memory of blood on marble. The blot slowly came into focus through the thick veil of white. It was not blood, but a simple hint of life in this place of death. Cordelia had stumbled upon a delicate group of flowers, simple petals shaping into clusters of red. The rich color, paired with the pitch-black leaves contrasted the snow sharply. It reminded Cordelia of the armor Avlora had worn when she had still been a loyal servant to Aesfrost.

“Flowers?” Cordelia remarked as she took a closer look, “All the way out here?”

“Ferrum weed,” Avlora explained, “It grows atop iron-rich ground, so just about anywhere in this kingdom. A weed not just in name.”

Cordelia furrowed her brow. “I was never fond of the way we dismissed plants as weed. This flower bloomed in a world of ice and stone, despite all odds. It’s only thanks to that we can enjoy its beauty here and now.”

“You have a way of making the world seem brighter, my lady.” Avlora was genuine. Cordelia could tell from the hint of warmth that swung in her voice.

“I’m merely stating what I observe.” Cordelia kneeled down, gently running her fingertips over the velvety petals. The stem didn’t seem quite so pleasant to the touch, though Cordelia wasn’t fool enough to test their thorns.

“Shall I pick them for you, my lady?” Avlora questioned, remaining stalwart like the armor displays that lined the throne room, “They should make for a fine bouquet with the right arrangement.”

Cordelia smiled at the thought of Avlora working away at a bouquet of flowers, matching shapes and colors until she deemed her creation pretty enough. She wondered what kind of flowers Avlora liked – the bold or the subtle type?

“That won’t be necessary,” Cordelia insisted as she stood up, “They’ve endured the blizzard more valiantly than most humans could. Let’s not ruin that small victory.”

“Very well,” Avlora replied, bowing her head in affirmation, “How fortunate that they have met with one as kind as you are, my lady.”

Avlora ran her fingers through her flowing hair when the wind tousled them. If Cordelia’s gloves were a hassle, the armored ones Avlora was wearing must have been a nightmare to handle. Cordelia considered helping her but couldn’t gather the courage to reach out in the end. Instead, she made a mental note to show Avlora more practical options to style her hair once they caught a moment of rest.

“The pleasure is mine,” Cordelia replied, regarding Avlora with one last smile before setting her gaze forward, “Let’s not linger for too long. The sooner we arrive to a fireplace and a warm meal, the better.”

“Hear, hear,” Avlora affirmed, “I’m all with you on this one.”

And she was, every step of the way.