Chapter 2

Noora

She barely slipped out of the window, shutting it as quietly as she could, before the cold hit her face. A shudder shook her body as her feet collided with the ground. A mixture of melted snow and mud splashed upon her collision with the ground but she didn’t bother to be cautious. She couldn’t care less if the bottom of her trousers were drenched in dirt if she didn’t make it back in time.

The horizon was already tinting in a soft grey, soon the sun would rise and awaken the town. If she didn’t make it in time, she wouldn’t be able to set foot upon the town and she was almost certain that they would throw her into the dungeons.

So, under the slumbering sky, Noora skidded around the farm, trying not to wake the horses and cows as she left the small part of town she called truly her home.

Lukas would wake in a few hours and feel for the other side of his bed, noticing that the mattress had already gone cold.

He knew the rules, knew that only the nights were reserved for them and that the day belonged to the rest.

It wasn’t a far walk from the Skulesdatter farm to town, her pace needn’t be hurried and yet she made sure to jog over the small bridge that crossed the river av Livet and through the forest until she appeared in a side alley in town.

Usually, she would slow down at the river, and let the water wash away the night but she slept in today and couldn’t risk to be late.

The forest lay in solemn silence, the hungry wolves tracing inside still asleep, the deer and rabbits hiding in the curtains of leaves.

Even though Noora knew she’d have to come back later to hunt, she felt wistful. The forest was most beautiful in the mornings when the voices of the townspeople didn’t reach its depths.

The heads of Witch Hazel, Winterling, and Winter Jasmine were already poking out of the beds of snow as if they were waiting to catch the first rays of the morning sun.

Noora didn’t care that she left a trail in the snow, her hands passing over the bark of the trees that encircled her, as she filled her lungs with the scent of pines and the coldness of ice. Oy Frossen was one of the most beautiful kingdoms in V?re as it looked like a world made out of ice.

With a last wistful glance, Noora swept into the town and its many alleys. She could hear the people waking up, doors squeaked open and windows thrown. Shutters banged against the plaster of the buildings as a soft breeze flew past her back.

She made it her mission not to be seen as she slipped between the richer neighbourhood until her feet hit softer soil and the gates came into view.

Black iron gates surround the whole house, pointy arrows at the top making it almost impossible to escape from the inside and invade from the outside. This building seemed to be better guarded than the palace of the prince itself.

But Noora knew better than to waste her time at the front. She slipped along the grid until she came to one bar slightly bent to the left.

She didn’t know who had damaged the carefully forged fence but she was nonetheless thankful for it.

Slipping through the dented gate, she made her way to the west side of the house that looked like it was haunted by the most horrible creatures. But looks could deceive. The only thing dangerous about the orphanage was the origin of the grey mush they served the children in the morning. And while people feared monsters surrounding the building the true monster roomed inside the orphanage Helvete.

Noora tried to overcome her disgust of the place and began to climb the pipes along the house before she got to the second story where one window sat slightly ajar.

She would need to prop her foot onto the little roof of the window below before she could get a grip on the window sill. The fact that she did this almost every night didn’t diminish the little spark of fear that jumped inside her as she leaped.

Her feet found ground on the roof below as her fingers caught ahold of the sill.

With ease, she pulled herself up and into the room. She could already hear the matron’s steps on the stairs in the hall as she got rid of her boots and slipped beneath the covers of her bed. She prayed upon the heavens that she didn’t drag any mud along her comforter, not again.

Turning to her side she met two glittering turquoises staring back at her.

Lulva’ina, or as she called the girl Lulva, was already awake, a smug smile spreading her lips.

Noora’s eyes glinted with mischief as she lifted a finger to her mouth before the door to the room burst open.

“Wake up, ladies. It is time to face the day!” A simultaneous groan erupted in the shared sleeping chamber. Elise, a servant in the orphanage made haste in opening the curtains, the daylight spilling into the room. A total of thirty-seven girls blinked around sleepily, some yawning as they threw their gray comforters off their bodies.

“Up, Up, there is a lot to do today. Ingrid, Eva, and Salma, you cover the kitchen duties today,” Elise told the three young girls who quickly swapped their nightgowns with the usual uniforms of the house. Grey skirts, reaching past the knees, the same colour as the long socks. A beige, once-white, blouse tucked neatly into the skirt. Working in the kitchen they naturally put up their hair or else the matron would’ve whipped them for their behavior.

The three girls scrambled out of the room while Noora hastily pushed her muddy boots under her bed when Elise threw the curtains open at the window beside her bed.

“Well, you certainly don’t look well rested.” Her green eyes rounded in concern. Elise was barely any older than Noora, she thought her to be in her early twenties. “Bad dream,” Noora murmured.

“I’ll make certain that you receive some herbal tea for breakfast then.” Noora barely nodded as she slipped out of her night clothes and into the hideous uniform.

She could feel Lulva’s eyes on her. “Were you with him last night? Again?” The ten-year-old girl tried herself at a whisper. Noora avoided her gaze as she nodded. “What do you do all night?” The younger girl’s eyes sparkled curiously as she pushed the blouse into her skirt.

Finished with her uniform Noora sighed and bent down in front of the girl. “Someone seems to be awfully curious this morning,” she tutted Lulva as she expertly pushed the blouse into the skirt. “You leave every night, for hours and when you come back your hair is all scraggly and your lips bruised as if you got punched.”

A flush spread over Noora’s cheeks as she told the younger girl to turn around so she could braid the red locks of her hair. “It is nothing a ten-year-old girl has to know about.”

Lulva’s hair was always soft and delicate, a beautiful contrast to her brown skin.

The girl huffed. “But I want to know.”

“We don’t always get what we want, Freckles, now put your shoes on before we’re late for breakfast.”

Her hands were wrinkly and soft when she pulled them out of the soapy water. Bubbles gathered around the fabric of the blouse the water turning a mushy brown. She let the fabric sink against the washboard for a moment, swiping away the strands sticking to her forehead. Her onyx eyes gathered the many blouses she still had to wash, the mountain seeming not to turn any smaller.

The girl beside her was humming a tune as she plucked up the wet blouses and hung them up on the rail attached to the window of the basement. A cold winter breeze travelled into the washing chamber, making goosebumps litter her arms. Lulva continued her tune as Noora focused on scrubbing the blouses.

Mondays were appointed for the washing as the orphanage went to mass on Sundays in their best clothes.

“I wonder if a boy will like me someday,” Lulva told her, her blue eyes round in wonder. “Pray that he doesn’t, men are nothing but work.”

Her brows knitted together in confusion. “But you are in love with one.”

“Sadly, I am, yes.” Her back began to ache from sitting in the same old squeaky chair for hours. “Noora.” She looked towards Lulva. “Yes?”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

A surprised chuckle passed her lips while Lulva’s face changed into a mask of fear. “One day you will leave me for him, won’t you?” The younger girl’s face contorted as if in pain. In a flash Noora pulled her towards her, brushing a red strand out of her face that went astray.

“Since the moment you stood on the steps of the orphanage four years ago, I’ve been devoted to no one else but you. It is us forever, Freckles.” She held up her pinky finger, and Lulva quickly wound hers around. Their skin set them apart in many ways but they could not hide the truth. Even if these girls were from different continents the scars they wore were yet the same.

Heavy footsteps sounded at that moment and Noora recognised them immediately. Trying to act as if nothing was at risk she pushed Lulva back to her place to the wet blouse just when the matron walked in.

The matron was an imposing woman. Dressed in a gown so big, Noora swore three people would fit under that skirt. It was made out of wool, coloured in a midnight blue. The collar came up to her long slender neck almost going past her pointed chin. Noora had wondered many times how the woman was able to breathe. With a back ramrod straight, features as stern as the way her greying hair was pulled back, she eyed them both. Her hands were drawn behind her back but Noora could see it in the slight tick of her left eye.

“Why are all the blouses still not hung up?” A voice as pleasant as nails on a chalkboard sent a shiver down Noora’s spine. “It is my fault, matron,” she quickly said as she noticed Lulva’s fearful gaze. The girl was frozen in fear, her brown skin taking on a greenish tint.

“But it is not you who is hanging the blouses is it?” The woman walked over and took Lulva’s small face in her hard grip.

Noora had felt that grip many times, knowing it was way harder than one could imagine.

The chair clattered to the ground as she stood quickly. “It is truly my fault; I was holding her up with my useless chatter.”

Tears gathered in Lulva’s eyes and Noora had to keep herself from pushing the matron off the girl.

“I see. As always, you’re the one to hold us up. Why don’t you make yourself scarce and help clean the bathrooms,” she told Lulva and pushed her in the direction of the entrance. When Lulva stumbled Noora couldn’t help herself to take a step forward to help her but the matron’s iron grip already got ahold of her bicep. Burning pain spread from her arm. “You stay.” Her cold gaze travelled over her spine as she watched Lulva throw a fearful look over her shoulder. With a nod, Noora told her to go.

“Has anyone told you already today?” Noora’s voice became icy as the child left the room.

“Told me what?” The matron asked suspiciously, a small glint of glee glowering in her eyes. She knew what was to come. It was their usual game. Noora did all she could so the matron’s attention would not be alerted by Lulva. Noora needed to be worse in order for Lulva to be better.

“What an unbearable bitch you are.”

The woman’s lips slid into a satisfied smile. Noora knew maybe the hits would be less if she kept her mouth shut but that was not her mission.

“How lovely that you mention it, I will let you feel my appreciation.”

But at least it made the whips more bearable if they were for her words rather than for a silly reason the matron came up with. And it rather be her back whipped than Lulva’s.