Chapter 19

Noora

Noora was glad when he didn’t follow her and thanked her brain for memorising the way back up to the second floor and into her chamber.

She had already decided to go to bed without any meal when a knock echoed against the wooden doors and a moment later a girl stuck her head through the small opening of the door.

When the princess’s gaze found Noora sitting on her bed, she opened the door fully, revealing a tray in her hands.

She changed out of the emerald dress and to black slacks sitting perfectly at her narrow waist, a cream-coloured chemise tucked neatly inside it. Her raven hair was brushed neatly and woven into a braid, dangling against her hip with every step she took.

“I hope, I do not interrupt?” Her voice was gravelly, deep for a woman’s voice. Noora liked it.

“ I hope, that is not a serious question,” she said rudely, only wanting the girl to leave. Though she was much more sympathetic than her brother, Noora did not care for any company at the moment.

“Right, who could ever deny a princess.” Princess Tyra rolled her eyes, fully stepping into the room, the door fell shut behind her.

“Though, it is probably the first time ever that a princess is bringing you your meal.” Her lips turned into a smug smile.

“I am not hungry.”

Tyra nodded and placed the tray onto the desk, making the scent of boiled potatoes, red cabbage, and meatballs in marinated sauce waft over to her. Her treacherous stomach growled at the scent. Noora could not remember the last time she ate meat for dinner. The grayish sludge served with beans and carrots in the orphanage was one of the many things she did not miss.

Tyra threw her a look but proceeded to stalk the room, her hands shoved into the pockets of her slacks.

“You know, I saw you in the crowd.” The princess stopped in front of her window, staring outside, the grayish clouds obscuring the landscape in depressing colours. “How could I not with that striking hair of yours.” She threw a small smile over her shoulder.

“It looks like snow.”

“I know,” Noora said. Why was she here?

The sun was already setting and despite Noora’s objections to sleep in this fancy room, she found she was exhausted. Her bones were aching and her mind reeling from all the events that happened that day.

“It is because of my heritage.” Without wanting to Noora was speaking, gaining the curious look of the princess.

“The magic in my veins manifests in many ways, it needs an outlet and it marks me.” She shrugged her shoulders.

“It is very pretty.”

Noora blanched at her words. “It’s a curse and nothing more. My enemies can see me from a mile away like a beacon,” she said.

Tyra furrowed her brows, taking a few steps towards her. “Does it? I think it blends you in with the kingdom’s landscape.”

She motioned toward the window and the snowy landscape residing behind the thick glass.

She was right, in the snow, Noora was practically invisible, but in town, her hair was a target, an open invitation for people like Isak to exploit her.

“The people you lived with...my brother said you grew up as an orphan.”

Noora looked at her suspicious of the change of topic.

They bathed in silence before Tyra spoke up again. “What? No answer?”

“I don’t recall there being a question.”

The princess’s lips twitched at the corners.

“Would it be improper to ask you about your parents?”

“It would,” Noora said.

“I am asking anyway. Did you know them?”

She did not owe her an answer and Noora could tell that if she refused the answer, the princess would oblige her. But since this was the first time Noora had a similar-aged girl talking to her she talked, though cautiously.

“I did not. The matron said they found me in the woods, my lips blue with the cold, my body encased with all kinds of vines and foliage.”

Noora believed it was nature’s way of trying to protect her, unsuccessfully.

Tyra drew closer and sat down on the mattress of the bed. “How old were you?”

“Six maybe seven.”

Tyra’s brows drew towards her hairline.

“But how did you end up there? They could not just leave you all alone!”

Noora smiled, though it felt bitter to do so. “I do not remember. It could’ve been from the cold but I do not remember anything from before that time. They said a little longer and I might’ve froze to death but...”

Noora hesitated before drawing her blouse up to reveal a brutish scar across the left side of her stomach.

A strangled gasp dove past the princess’s lips.

“Looks worse than it is,” Noora told her. The princess reached out with her hand but Noora let the blouse fall back quickly into its place. “Whoever left me there took a souvenir with them. They took my left kidney for whatever reason.”

She rolled her eyes since it sounded so silly. Who would take someone’s kidney and then let them freeze to death in the woods? At least, take all the vital organs if you want to sell them on the dubious market.

“Noora...” Tyra trailed off.

“Well, a dramatic sob story, I know. But I am glad that I do not remember my parents since whoever did this could not ever be a real mother or father. I do not practice magic and I will not ever. My hair might tell you I am a witch, but I am not.”

Tyra stared at her, her golden eyes glinting compassionately, though Noora was glad she did not say more. She revealed more than she should’ve but she was tired, and she was allowed to make mistakes. As if Tyra could see her tiredness, she cleared her throat and spoke again.

“I know you are exhausted, I can imagine but you have to endure my presence for a little longer.”

“You remind me of your brother.” Tyra hesitated at the words, looking at Noora. “Why?”

“You’re just as arrogant as him.” For a moment Noora feared she’d gone too far. But then Tyra broke out into a small laugh. Her voice grated slightly and Noora was not surprised that even her laugh sounded perfect. “I would take that as an insult but I take pride in my confidence.”

“Spoken like a Gyldenlove,” remarked Noora.

Tyra smirked.

“You are the only girl in the tournament which makes it my obligation to support you, no matter if you are as rude as a sailor.”

Noora was surprised at the princess speaking her alliance to her so openly.

“You have only tomorrow until your first task of the tournament, and I can tell you the other contestants are not starving themselves. And I would be disappointed to see you fail.” She reached forward and Noora quickly caught her wrist in her hand before she could touch her hair.

“I don’t like people touching me.”

Tyra nodded before retreating her hand. “Take this as an opportunity, Noora, no matter what they say and call you. You are what you want to be and your heritage does not define you. This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance to change your whole life, don’t take it for granted.”

“I am not,” Noora insisted.

Tyra got off the bed, nodding as if satisfied by her answer. “Good. And don’t listen to a word my brother tells you, he is a liar.”

“I know, better than you think.”

A small melodic laugh escaped Tyra again before she turned elegantly.

But instead of exiting, she hesitated before she turned around. “Was she your sister?” She turned, elaborating, “The little girl with the red hair, that stood in front of you.”

“She is from the Southern Isles and she—” Noora stopped herself before nodding.

“She is my sister.”

Tyra nodded as if she could understand how important Lulva was to Noora, just by that one sentence. “I promise you, nothing will happen to her.”

Noora’s lips turned into a cruel smile. “I know it won’t. Or else I will rain hell over this damned kingdom.”

The princess finally left her room, closing the door quietly. Once she was gone, Noora’s eyes flit over to the tray, the potatoes still steaming.

As much as Noora wanted to stay stubborn, Tyra was right, she had a tournament to win.

Nikolai

Nikolai barely made it through his breakfast as Raphael interrupted his morning. The guard stepped into his study, standing still until the king spoke up. “Yes?”

“I retrieved what you sent me out for this morning,” he said and Nikolai stiffened, discarding the opened letter of the King of Ka-Hema on his desk and stood up.

“And?” he pressed and watched Raphael step out of the study, before reentering, a small girl at his side.

Her hair stood horribly in the air, the red strands looking like the girl went through an explosion not long ago. She was dressed in a dull gray dress, no doubt gifted by the orphanage, and dirt lay in thick layers under her nails.

Her blue eyes grew round as he stood in front of her, her mouth dropping open.

“Your Majesty.” The girl dropped into a crouch, making Nikolai tilt his head. Even a ten-year-old girl had more manners than Noora did.

“Get up, child,” he ordered and she quickly followed his request.

“What is your name?”

“Lulva’ina, Your Majesty.”

He offered her his hand and Lulva hesitantly stepped forward, placing her small hand inside his. The black glove encasing his hand swallowed hers, as he shook it lightly. “You may call me Nikolai.”

Her eyes grew larger. “But you are the king!”

“I still have a name I would like people to call me by.”

He let go of her hand, letting his eyes wander over her face. It was spotted with orange-coloured freckles that trailed along her chubby child cheeks and over a bowed nose bridge. Her eyes glittered in childish wonder, irises as blue as the ocean, contrasting against her darker skin.

It reminded him of Princess Aileen’s skin, the same bronze tint to it, it seemed Noora’s little friend was from the Southern Isles.

“Why don’t we find your friend?” He offered, resulting in Lulva’s confused face. “My friend?”

“Noora,” he stated and glanced at Raphael, who shrugged his shoulders.

“My sister!” Lulva exclaimed. “Where is she?”

Nikolai’s gaze flitted back to Raphael because if he was being honest after telling the guard to obtain Lulva, he would not track Noora’s further steps. He liked to keep himself as neutral as possible, not talking to any contestants, even if his sister had bothered him with irrelevant stories and facts.

His focus was merely on keeping the members of the Sosye camps far away from his kingdom while satisfying the alliance they carried with Ka-Hema. The tournament would serve its own purpose without him interfering, well besides his interfering when making sure that Noora was picked as a participant.

“She’s currently in the royal training rooms with the other contestants of the tournament.” Raphael provided the information without being needed to ask. “Well, then let’s go, I am sure she will be delighted when she sees you.”

If not he would make sure of it, after all this trouble he went through, she should be thankful for his generosity and kindness.

The three of them left his study to venge towards the dungeons, the air growing colder as they descended.

“Is she going to win?” Lulva spoke up, making Nikolai look down at her in surprise. “My sister? She will win, she is the best huntress I know.”

“That depends on if her skills will provide her any advantages in the tournament, I would not underestimate her participants.”

Lulva shook her head, making her red curls bounce against her shoulders. “My sister is really clever and strong, I don’t think anyone can be stronger than her.”

Raphael scoffed, making the king glance at him shortly. His closest guard and only friend had been seeing more of Noora yesterday which made him a better judge of her character than Nikolai, but somehow his puff of air aggravated him.

“She even endured the punishment of the matron and those are the worst. I know she always wanted to protect me, so I would not get hurt. But it was not my fault! The matron administers punishments because of absurd things and then she won’t be able to sleep on her back for days, even if she uses the wonder cream!”

Nikolai’s steps faltered. “What are you talking about?”

Lulva looked like she was caught doing something dangerous. “No-thing?” She stumbled over the word before clamping her lips shut as if it would hinder her from saying any more words.

Nikolai did not budge and with a gloved hand wound around the girl’s bicep they came to a stop.

“What do you mean when you say the matron punished her?”

It was a rhetorical question. He understood what she was implying, though he could not grasp the meaning.

“Just that when the girls misbehave we get punishment,” the girl mumbled, looking intimidated by him.

“But not punishment in doing chores but in physical punishment.” He did not need to clarify. When his grip turned stronger on her small arm, she winced.

“Kai…” Raphael spoke up, reminding Nikolai of his presence. His eyes flew towards his grip and even though Nikolai let go of Lulva’ina’s arm, his voice sounded snotty as he spoke up.

“It’s Your Majesty.” he corrected the guard, before continuing his way down to the dungeons. The two of them followed him quietly.

A fire was spreading inside his veins as his mind forced himself to repeat the words Lulva’ina said. Girls were punished at the orphanage for misbehaving and apparently, it was no light punishing if it took a ‘wonder cream’ to heal their wounds.

He felt sick to his stomach, his back started to itch as if mocking him.

His steps became more hurried and the walls felt like they were caving in on him, it was just a matter of time before they would reach his body and crush his skull, splattering brain matter and blood everywhere.

He could feel the waves of panic rising inside him. First through his stomach, flipping it upside down, as his hands started to shake, matching the gallop of his heart.

This was not the time nor the right place to lose his self-control.

Inhaling deeply, he filled his lungs with oxygen, even though it felt like they were fighting against it, squeezing his diaphragm so there was no space left.

Though he knew this was only in his mind.

He continued to breathe until his ears got distracted by a familiar noise.

Metal clanging against metal, huffed breaths, and shuffling feet. They had reached the dungeons.

His steps stuttered to a halt as he ended up in the doorframe, leading into the training room. There she was.

He inhaled more easily as his gaze scanned in on the scene. Noora was clad in fighting gear, provided by his sister with no doubt.

Her long white strands were braided away from her delicate face, a few strands obstructing her view with every movement she produced.

Kekoa was standing across from her in the fighter’s ring, two elongated knives in his skilled hands.

He was watching her like a lion was watching his prey. Every step of his matched hers, copying her, keeping track of her, until he found a weak spot. And then he struck.

Kekoa was a skilled fighter. Being a descendant of the witch hunters, it was pure instinct for them to fight and he did not make a secret out of his skills.

His slashes were precise and quick, reaching for Noora’s chest but she matched the Sosye’s pace easily without a care in her world.

Sweat pearls were trailing down her temples as her hands swung with delicate ring daggers at the much taller and broader man.

She was a good fighter but sadly not good enough.

Without seeing it coming, Kekoa went for her knees making her stumble and the next second he was behind her one knife at her throat, her back pressed to his chest.

Nikolai found himself taking a step forward, his hand flexing as if he were holding the grip of his sword.

When the participants in the chamber noticed him stepping inside, they left their stations, bowing quickly.

Nikolai cleared his throat as he tried to compose himself of this strange sensation spreading in his chest.

Noora’s eyes dove to the place beside him, where Lulva’ina was hovering and Noora did not hesitate before jumping out of the ring. The ring daggers dropped to the mat with a deafening clatter, discarded in a matter of seconds.

“Lulva,” she breathed her name, reaching the girl and wrapping her arms around her small body.

She picked Lulva’ina up and if the child didn’t squeal delightfully, Nikolai feared Noora was seriously crushing her.

Something tugged at his chest at the open display of affection but it was quickly stomped out when Noora opened her eyes, her black gaze meeting his with an angry gleam.

What did he do now?