Chapter 23

Nikolai

“How could you possibly think that you would have the allowance to decide that he is a part of the jury?” Nikolai’s voice roared as the doors banged open to the drawing room of the palace. His mother flinched in her seat across the window on the left wall, overlooking the frozen sea.

“Answer me,” Nikolai prodded as he came to a stop in front of her. His chest was heaving with every breath he took, his veins aflame with rage he had never felt before. No, that was not the truth, he had felt this rage before but the person who inflicted this emotion inside him was long dead.

“I don’t know who you are talking about,” Euphemia said nonchalantly, placing the porcelain cup back on its saucer.

Nikolai scoffed and turned away from her, pacing in front of the window to somehow get rid of the energy balling up inside of him.

“You know exactly who I am talking about. Koa-Ailani? The high chief of one of the most vast witch hunter clans, currently residing in Oy Frossen.”

“What about him?”

Nikolai whirled around, considering choking a woman for the first time in his life. His mother rolled her eyes once she noticed how worked up he was, she finally conceded.

“I made sure that the tournament would have an objective and fair jury so that no one was left out.”

“Fair? Do you call that fair? How could it be fair that a witch hunter is on the jury when they hate people like Noora deeply? How is it fair that the moment he will lay eyes on her it will be his only desire to kill her?” He barely managed to get the words out and apparently, his mother had enough of his rage.

She got up from the settee, the fabric of her gown swishing along her frame. “Calm yourself, son, it has been forbidden to kill witches in Oy Frossen for a long time. Koa-Ailani will not touch your pretty little witch.”

“She is not my witch,” he pressed as his mother started to advance on him. He knew what she was doing, trying to lure him out of his security and use his kindness towards Noora as an excuse to let someone like Koa judge in the tournament.

“I hope not. Surely you have not forgotten about Princess Aileen-Akamu.”

“You don’t have to remind me of my duties, mother, I am perfectly aware of them. Stop distracting me from the subject matter. I don’t want him on the jury.”

“Why? Because Noora is a witch? You and I will both be on the jury as well.”

Nikolai barked a laugh and turned his back on her. “Because you are so prone to protecting any minority.”

“That is just presumptuous of you.”

He turned around to look at her. Her hands were clasped in front of her, the perfect picture of calm. But he was not as stupid to judge a book by its cover, his mother did not marry the king because she was stupid. She was more cunning than people realised and he once found pride in taking that characteristic from her.

“I don’t know what your problem is. Marid will be on the jury as well.”

Marid might be kinder than his mother, she was the eldest friend of the royal family. Nikolai trusted her to judge everyone fairly, though he did not think she would go against his mother’s opinion.

“As if that would make anything better,” he scoffed.

Euphemia narrowed her dark brows at him. “What do you want Nikolai? Marid Winter is as much witch as any other so we have representatives of both species, what do you want more?”

He advanced on her, shaking his head rapidly. “That is not the same and you know it. No one knows of Marid’s heritage, they will think her human. The people are angry enough that we allowed a witch to participate in the tournament and instead of confirming their thoughts in bringing a witch hunter into the jury, we should make sure they respect Noora, treat her like she deserves to be treated.”

“And what does that entail, Nikolai?” She zeroed in on him, her hand reaching for his but he quickly drew it back, not ready to give up yet.

He would not let her win. He knew exactly that it was a calculated move to bring a witch hunter to the palace, especially a high chief. It would throw everything off balance and especially Noora would feel rattled about it. He needed her in that damn tournament.

“Bringing that child into the palace? Giving her a better room than any of the other contestants? Writing her name over and over so it was sure she was picked for the tournament?”

His eyes widened in surprise. How could she know?

Euphemia drew a short laugh. “I am the queen, I know everything.”

“You are no queen anymore. I am king and the woman that I will marry will be queen,“ he said.

His mother’s lips pulled into a smile before she grasped his chin in her hands, squeezing tightly until his teeth gnashed together.

“Your father always scolded you about showing your feelings, son. You have still not learned.” She shook her head while tilting his head to both sides.

Her grip turned so painful tears were gathering in his eyes but he dared not to move.

“I know you Nikolai, you are my son and I know the look in your eyes when you see something you want. And I dare you to take her. Take her and it will be the last thing you do.”

His heart skipped at her words, his brows drawing closer.

“You’re wrong. I do not want Noora, the only thing I want for her is to have a fair chance.”

His mother let go of his chin and he couldn’t stop himself from releasing a small exhale.

She stalked back to the green settee, picking up her discarded cup of tea. Her green eyes met his, a satisfied smile adorning her lips.

“Well, then everything is settled.”

It was at the crack of dawn when Noora got woken up—or rather dragged out of her warm, cosy bed— by Raphael to tell her that she was to get ready for the first task of the tournament. Since bringing Lulva to the palace, the guard deemed it appropriate to tell her his name. The participants were provided with leather gear made for any task that they would partake in. The suit buttoned up in the front, the material clinging to Noora’s skin familiarly. If she dared to, she could get used to these kinds of uniforms; it felt a lot safer to hunt in than her usual breeches and shabby shirt.

She quickly braided her pale strands so her hair would not get in the way of whatever she would have to do that afternoon and without a second glance Raphael dragged her out of the warm chamber, showering her into the cold morning air of the hall.

“Here.”

Noora glanced at his hands to see him hold out a piece of bread, the crust golden brown and small sunflower seeds sticking to the top.

“There is no time for breakfast today but it doesn’t feel right to let you into the task without anything in your stomach. I smuggled the bread out of the kitchens.”

Noora took a hearty bite, shaking her head. “This bread tastes better than anything I have ever eaten in town.”

Raphael nodded as if he suspected that kind of answer from her. They took a left and swept down the north corridor while Noora continued to chew silently on her bread. Her serene silence made Raphael talkative. “You seem strangely calm.”

She finished chewing and he reached for his belt to produce a small flask filled with water. Without thanking him, she took it.

“Should I not be?” she asked after handing the flask back.

“You’re about to go into an arena filled with many influential people, common folk, and royalty, who are all there to judge you upon your performance in a task you know nothing about.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “I would probably piss myself.”

A small chuckle passed Noora’s lips as she followed him down the stairs, their steps echoing on the cold marble floor. She had no idea where this supposed arena was located in this giant palace.

“I have nothing left to lose, maybe that makes me the perfect participant.”

“That is not true.”

She looked up and met his hazel-coloured eyes. “Have you not seen my clothes? Or where I come from? I appreciate your willingness to oversee my obvious disadvantages—“

“Disadvantages? You mean that you are a witch?” Raphael stopped walking in front of an atrociously looking portrait of an old man with black hair. His stomach protruded past his belt, making his already minuscule, stocking-clad legs shorter.

“Why should that be a disadvantage?”

Noora scoffed. “I don’t care what people think about me, Raphael, the only opinion that counts is my own. But in this tournament, it is not only my skills that are being judged but my heritage as well. And we all know how popular people like me are.”

“The royal family will not allow any discrimination,” Raphael said and Noora felt inclined to sigh. The ever-dutiful royal guard, she wondered what it took for these men to blindly trust strangers who coincidentally were ruling a whole kingdom.

She took a step closer to him, making sure that she was meeting his gaze when she spoke her next words. “The royal family does not care what happens to anyone if it does not affect themselves or their reign.”

“That is not true. Nikolai is the best leader this country ever had. There is no one as kind and good-hearted as him, especially regarding the things he had to go through.”

Noora barked out a laugh. “What? Did he cut his finger against some regimen he had to sign? Or were his boots laced too tight and he couldn’t undo them himself?”

Apparently, Noora struck a nerve because the guard surged forward, making Noora’s body tense up, ready to defend herself. Raphael reigned himself in at the last second but dropped his voice a few octaves. “If you disrespect my king like that again, I won’t hesitate to throw you in the dungeons. Don’t confuse my humanity for friendliness because my loyalties lie with Nikolai, is that clear?”

His eyes blazed, his skin taught as if she had insulted him herself, and even though she could not understand this kind of blind loyalty she respected it.

“You should know best that not everything is always what it seems,” he pressed.

She nodded. “Clear.”

Raphael’s gaze dove over her for a moment until he nodded and turned down the hall. The rest of the way was spent in silence and once they reached the doors to the north entrance and joined the rest of the participants, Raphael went to stand beside the door. A servant dressed in pantyhose and short balloon-shaped pants stopped in front of the group.

“Behind those doors, you will step into the arena provided by the royal family for the upcoming tournament. You are not allowed to bring any of your weapons or droughts—“ he threw a look at Noora—“inside. The jury will not only judge you upon finishing the task but they will judge your skill…”

Noora drowned his awfully nasal voice out as Pika stopped next to her, a small smile on his lips.

“I wanted to wish you good luck.”

She gave him a tight-lipped smile,trying not to show any of her suspicions. Pika had been fairly nice to her over the few days she had gotten to know him but that did not mean she trusted him. If it came down to it, he was still a descendant of a witch hunter and that was reason enough for her to stay cautious.

“You too,” she told him nonetheless.

The voice of the servant had risen again and captured both their attention.

“There will be something that you have to retrieve in this task, which will further ease your way into future tasks. I cannot tell you how or what that special item is. You all will have to find out for yourselves. There is only one item provided, not more, once a person has retrieved it the task is over and you will receive your ratings in front of the crowd. If you somehow sabotage another participant you will be immediately restricted from the task and gather no points. All clear?”

The four of them nodded, even if reluctantly, the man went. “Well, then please gather in a row, I wish you all good luck.”

Noora stood on the far right, Pika next to her, followed by Kekoa—who threw her a wink and devilish smile—and lastly, Soren, who looked a little green in his face.

Noora tried to catch Raphael’s gaze but he stoically ignored her as he went for the handles of the pompous wooden door and dragged them open with a low creak.

Noora focused on her breathing, her chest rising rhythmically.

Her eyes focused in front of her, her shoulders straightening, whatever would come at her next, she would win this. For Lulva, for herself. For a life that could only be better than whatever she was having now.

Then the doors finally opened.