Chapter 16

Noora

Noora did not know how she ended up in the carriage. She vaguely remembered being pulled off of Lulva by the guards, who helped her get through the raging crowd.

“No! What are you doing?” she protested, crying out for Lulva who stared at her surprised.

She only could remember her, standing there, her hair a red halo around her youthful face as Noora was announced to be the last contestant.

Of course, the people started complaining, throwing things onto the podium, shoes and hats.

One woman threw her bag against Noora.

The queen and her companions were rushed away immediately before the guards took care of the contestants, escorting them through the angry crowd and getting them to the royal carriages.

Noora’s body jumped as the carriage hit a bumpy part in the road but she did not care.

Another contestant was sitting opposite of her, his body taking up the whole place as he threw a nervous smile at her. Seeing Noora scream and hit the royal guards sure left an impression. She was still raging, she could not even say goodbye to Lulva, they just took her and left a child in a crowd so angry and dangerous. Noora felt like the walls of the carriage were caving in on her, swallowing her whole. She pushed the tips of her nails into her plush seat.

“I am Pika.” The boy didn’t need to even stretch his arm to reach her as he offered her his overly large hand. His fingers were chubby and short, his skin flawlessly clean. Nails bitten short to the quick.

“I know who you are,” Noora grumbled as she stared out of the window, watching the snowy landscape pass her.

They were bringing them to the ice palace.

She was too angry to focus on the literal witch hunter sitting opposite her but somehow her gut told her that Pika was not dangerous, something in his eyes glinted so kindly that she wanted to snuff it out with her bare hands.

“I am sure they will let you see your friend again at the tournament. She can watch you.” He tried again and this time Noora looked at him.

“Listen, whatever you think you’re doing, don’t. I do not care to converse with anyone, especially not a filthy Sosye.”

Pika flinched slightly in his seat. “I am not a Sosye.”

“Are you actually stupid? I can smell your heritage on you just as much as you can smell mine. So. Stop. Talking. To. Me,” she barked.

Pika kept his mouth shut after that, bathing the rest of the journey in silence.

Once the carriages came to a stop, Noora didn’t bother to wait for a servant to open the doors.

She jumped out and past a confused-looking stable boy, before a royal guard stepped at her side.

“You cannot leave the carriage without an escort, Madame.”

“I think I just did,” she said as she took what looked like a servant entrance into the castle.

“Hey!” she protested as the royal guard wound his hand around her arm and dragged her in the opposite direction she wanted to go.

Despite the palace being called the ice palace, the inside was warmer than the late autumn weather raving in the streets of the village.

In spite of her efforts to get her arm out of the guard’s hold, she failed. She conceded to his fast pace, not knowing where he was taking her, walking past alcoves buried deep into the castle walls, gilded candle holders leading their way.

“The contestants will meet in the throne room where the queen will present you with your first task and a personal servant will be provided, according to your needs.”

“I do not need a servant because I will not partake in this tournament,” she said and the guard threw her an unimpressed look.

They dove around the corner, passing gilded doors that were as high as the ceiling, carved in arches. The guard shoved her forward and she almost stumbled to her knees and into the throne room.

“Unbelievable,” a voice screeched and Noora looked up to see the gathered party.

The queen was pacing, still in her red gown, as the three other contestants stood a bit out of place in the room.

Straightening up, a small surprised breath left Noora’s lips.

The throne room was indeed a throne room and yet so much more. A vast space stretched before her, a pedestal at the end of the room portraying two throne chairs, one silver and one gold. They looked nothing like the ones they transported into the village, the design was so intricately woven around each other that Noora did not know exactly what it was portraying.

The ground was made out of marble, she guessed, at the sound it made when she stumbled, but it looked nothing like it.

It was not in the typical grayish colour with darker veins running across. Instead, the marble looked almost transparent with small cracks running inside. It looked like it was made out of ice .

Which was impossible or else it would be melting by the big chandeliers hanging from the white-coloured ceiling.

Small diamonds hung at them, and every time a breeze surpassed the highly arched windows on one side they clinked against each other.

A snowy landscape was visible through the six windows, the village just a small speck in the distance.

“You ungrateful, impish brat!”

Before Noora could marble anymore about the detailed design of the throne room the queen was onto her. With deliberate steps, she closed in on her and it took Noora every ounce of self-control not to shift into a defensive stance.

Queen Euphemia’s eyes were blazing green fire as she yelled at her. “Do you even know what consequences your outburst will carry?”

Her voice was so shrill that Noora grimaced.

She guessed the queen was talking of her trying to scratch and hit the guards.

Taking a deep breath she tried to control her emotions, this was the queen she was talking to after all.

“I cannot explain how deeply sorry I am, Your Majesty, there has been a mistake. I cannot participate in the tournament.”

A cruel laugh left the queen’s lips. “So you did not throw your name into the vessel?”

Noora hesitated, throwing a concerned look at the other contestants.

Kekoa looked more than satisfied with a grin sitting on his lips, making the scar stretch horrifically.

“I did—”

“So then you will participate in the tournament,” the queen bit back.

“I am afraid that is not possible. My sister—“The queen did not let her breathe as she scoffed. “That girl was not your sister. Only a girl with no last name can be of the orphanage and I know what you are. Everyone knows what you are.” Her voice got so low that Noora had to strain her ears to hear it. Her hands clenched into fists as the woman went on.

“Judging by the reaction of the crowd they are not satisfied with you as a contestant, which will only make it worse if we will withdraw you from the tournament,” the queen continued. “With your heritage , people could think we don’t accept someone like you.”

Noora scoffed. “My heritage? You mean the fact that I am half witch?”

Or the fact that they indeed did not accept someone like Noora. As good as the act Queen Euphemia put on, witches were barely tolerated in Oy Frossen.

The queen seemed to flinch at the words. She straightened her shoulders.

“Throwing the name into the vessel created a contract with the crown, you will partake in the tournament, no discussion allowed.”

Noora shook her head. She could not participate. Lulva would not survive at the orphanage without her, the matron would torture her to no ends.

But if you win, you could leave with Lulva forever .

The small voice of hope whispered inside her heart.

Queen Euphemia straightened up, her face set. “You will participate in the tournament, you are under a contract with the crown, if you want it or not. The king will surely agree with me.”

As if on cue the doors to the throne room opened and it seemed like everyone was holding their breath.

“Nikolai, how wonderful of you to join us.”

Noora turned, even though her insides were burning like acid. Turning around did not further calm her, it was like fire mixing with spirit.

When she fully turned and faced the king, her insides exploded. “You.”