Chapter 18

Noora

They assigned Noora a chamber on the second floor, the two windows encased in the left wall of the room offering a view of the snowy landscape. She was glad she could not see the village from this point, she felt like she would not be able to escape it then, even from a distance it still had control over her and her life.

She did not bother to cosy up in the chamber they assigned her either, it consisted of a queen-sized bed, a polished desk that offered a pot of ink and parchment, and a wardrobe so big she wondered if a whole human or maybe multiple would fit inside it.

Looking at the well-preserved furniture made her sick, the price of this room alone would be more than she had ever had in her life. And ever would possess in her life.

The way that some people had to suffer, especially now due to the loss of fruitful ground and harvest, while the king and his family were bathing in riches, was ridiculous.

But from what she came to know of Nikolai in the short time she had met him, including the time he pretended to be someone he wasn’t, she did understand why the village was remaining under these circumstances.

Noora scoffed.

Nikolai called himself a kind king, how kind could he be, without being generous to the people who admired and worshiped his whole being? He was a stupid young boy, arrogant and pretentious in his actions.

Noora was not blind, she could see the case his narcissistic soul inhabited. The prince had a tall figure, more defined than strong, his hair a golden mess atop his head and those eyes. He inherited the eyes of Queen Euphemia without a doubt.

Though as beautiful as a ripe apple can be, once you cut it open and dissect its inner flesh, you can see that it was spoiled, rot spreading inside like a curse.

Maybe it was good to take part in the tournament, someone like Nikolai would always have something in his life. People like Noora were the ones who had to work for everything and she would work for it.

She would feel satisfied in taking from someone like him, though she was being cautious.

Why did he want her to participate in the tournament? What were his motives?

She could not tell, as she did not know him enough to see behind the mask he was so carefully wearing. It was strange, when telling her his name was Kai it felt like the king was more himself than he was when meeting her in the throne room.

Noora’s spinning thoughts were quickly interrupted by a curious knock against her chamber door.

A second later it opened and in stepped the royal guard that dragged her towards the throne room, merely a few hours ago.

Noora remained quiet, waiting for him to speak up, which he did rather quickly. “I am here to take you to the royal training rooms. The other contestants are on their way as well, afterwards, you will have dinner as a group to get to know each other.”

“Why would I want to get to know any of these bastards?” she countered.

“Because it is better to know your enemy than to fear it.”

She perked up at that. “What is your name?”

“My name is of no relevance. There are a few dresses provided in the wardrobe, you will change and then follow me out.”

Annoyed by his brutish commands she stepped over to him, straightening her shoulders, even though she did not reach his level in any case. Did the royal family require to only be surrounded by giants?

“I am ready to go as I am.”

The guard gave her a once over, probably taking in her battered clothes but she did not dare think of changing.

Parading around the castle in a dress was the worst message she could give the other contestants and she would participate as she was. An Orphan. And she would show them that that was exactly what made her special. There was nothing sweeter than beating an enemy with her bare hands, there was no need for the shiny mask the royal family had maintained so carefully. If Noora was going to win this tournament, she would do it by being herself.

The guard turned without another remark and she followed him out into the hall. They walked in silence, Noora assessing the armour that surrounded his tall body, the sword dangling at the right side of his hip. Left-handed.

She cataloged the information in her brain,following him down the stairs leading three floors down into the dungeons. The air turned colder there, a thin layer of goosebumps covering her arms as she took in the slightly crisp air.

“Isn’t it cliche to have the training rooms in the dungeons?” she asked him as they rounded the corner where fighting noises appeared. She glanced at him, taking in his tan skin and hazel hair which was closely cropped to his head. He was not originally from Oy Frossen that much she could tell.

“Isn’t it pretentious to state such a thing when not even having a training room?” The guard turned lightly and threw her a look.

This time her lips jerked slightly upward.

Blades clashing sounded as they finally stepped through the opened doors, where Noora remained, as she took in the logistics of the chamber.

It was shaped like a hexagon, divided into six training areas. It seemed like a training circle with different stations.

The light was much dimmer in this chamber as no speck of natural light found its way inside, though every triangle-sized part of the room had multiple candle holders attached to the wall.

A grunt echoed and she looked to her right, where a guard was currently fighting against Pika, both men circling each other on an elevated platform. Pika’s gaze flickered towards her and he hesitated before throwing her a cautious wave.

She ignored him.

The next triangle of the room was empty, filled with wooden dummies, that had a marked x on their chest. They were put up in a circle, imitating an advancing troupe, a situation no one should be willing to find themselves in.

The next part was filled with a wall one was supposed to climb, small wooden rocks encased into it. Noora had to hold in her laugh at the next two triangle portions of the room, which were filled with some kind of constructed obstacle parkour.

One had to crawl under wooden sticks, jump over a few littered flat stones, and balance over a rod, to climb a steep ramp that led up to a podium, where a wooden crown was encased by glass, like a prize.

Soren was currently balancing on the rod, tipping sideways every few seconds, his eyes looking sleepy, his twin front teeth slightly protruding from his lips.

“He looks deliciously concentrated,” Noora remarked, making the guard glance at her again. Did the corners of his lips twitch or was that a delusion of the flickering candlelight?

Though his gaze did not remain long on her, as they flickered to the last contestant in the chamber.

Kekoa was shirtless, his broad chest glistening with sweat of labor as he punched a bag, which seemed to be filled with sand, over and over. It was attached to a metal chain that bore into the ceiling of the room making it swing with every hit. His skin was littered with small white scars, protruding and pebbling his chest like a painting. While Noora always regarded her scars with contempt it made him look fierce.

The guard was watching him so obviously that Noora had to roll her eyes.

“What is that?” she asked him, to distract him from his obvious ogling of the witch hunter. The latter ignored Noora as if she was solely air as she walked past him. The guard followed Noora to the last portion of the training room.

“A way to get familiar with the different herbology and potions used in the kingdom,” he explained as they reached the wooden table, provided with a black cauldron. Beside it lay a few strewn herbs and bottles filled with various coloured liquid. A few empty vials lay strewn around as if someone gave up on them mere minutes ago.

Noora pulled the book out under the desk, bound by leather, so old it felt like it would turn into dust at the touch of her fingertips.

“Are you familiar with herbology?” the guard asked her.

“No, apart from the few plants that grow in the forest of our village. I am not talented in nature despite the clichés.”

He nodded. Witches were known for their connection to nature, they bred potions out of forbidden liquids and herbs. That was why most of them were drawn to being healers, or so Noora heard. She had never met another witch, she was the only one in the village.

“Of course, the half-breed goes immediately to her magic tricks,” a voice sneered.

Noora looked up to see Kekoa advancing, a towel thrown over his shoulders.

She decided to ignore him and opened the book but it seemed like he was not interested in leaving her alone.

“It should be forbidden for you to use your powers in the tournament; it would not make a fair match.”

“Because you will not be using your primal instincts and your ability to hunt something to death, if it will come in handy for you, Sosye,” she countered now.

Kekoa blanched, angry lines forming on his sweaty face.

It seemed like they had gathered Pika’s attention as he stopped his fight and drew closer.

“Come on Kekoa, let her be. She deserves to be here as much as we do.”

Kekoa scoffed. “She deserves not even a merciful death.”

Noora put the vial she picked up back down and rounded the corner.

Kekoa widened his legs, waiting for an attack but the only thing she did was trail toward him.

She kept her steps light and elegant, making sure that she walked in a rhythm different from her own. She knew Sosye could pick up on someone’s steps and mock their walk. An advantage he could draw on later in the tournament if he needed it.

She stopped at a safe distance. “Are you that afraid of a few liquids? If I do not deserve being here, I should not be a threat to you.” She paused, tilting her head slightly, taking in the small tick in his jaw, “Then why do you feel so threatened, Kekoa?”

“I do not feel threatened.” He puffed out his chest further, only reinforcing her point with his defensive behavior.

She dared to step even closer, even though it went against all her instincts, which were currently screaming at her to turn and run. From the corner of her eye, she could see the guard twitching as if thinking of interfering but he thought better of it.

“Believe me,” she was talking so quietly that no one could hear, she was so close she could smell the sweat pouring off his skin, “when I kill you, I will make sure it will be with my bare hands and not some small, little vial.”

He crowded her chest growling, “You filthy little—”

“Enough.” The guard interrupted him.

Satisfied with what she said, Noora took a few steps back, the guard coming up quickly in front of her.

“It is time for dinner, I would advise everyone to not encourage any animosity outside the tournament. The royal crown does not condone discrimination of any kind and quarreling outside the tasks.” His voice was hard as he made his point.

Noora did not feel encouraged by his words. She felt like she had the situation under control, no one needed to step up for her, especially not some royal guard who did not even bother to tell her his name.

Kekoa stared up at the guard for a few moments but the latter did not budge until the three other contestants started to scramble out of the room.

The guard turned to look at Noora.

“I am not hungry,” she said before breezing past him.