Chapter 31

Noora

The sound of crashing metal reverberated around the courtyard, the vibration of the collision travelled across the blade of Noora’s sword and into her arm. When she first picked up a sword she felt it was an inconvenient weapon. For one, you had to face your enemy head-on, you had to be close to them in order to fight, which was slightly out of her comfort zone, regarding the fact that she usually hunted with an arrow and bow.

But it was not only the lack of distance that made it impractical. The sword was heavy, made out of iron or silver, and the weapon carried a lot of weight, especially the long sword the palace provided her with. It drew her arm down and made her hits sloppy and she usually missed her target.

Over time her arm grew tired and it felt like small ants were crawling up her skin until she was unable to hold the blade up any longer.

Noora got used to the weight and the new way in which she had to shift her weight and balance her hits against her opponent. Still, she preferred her bow.

The swords collided again and Noora let out a grunt.

“That is probably the first sound you made in twenty minutes,” Pika said as he parried her next hit.

Noora ignored him and tried to attack again and again, even though she knew it would not drive him out into the open. For Pika’s height and weight, he was dramatically elegant in handling a sword fight, and if he wasn’t so skilled, Noora might’ve mocked him for it.

He wielded the sword as if it were a part of him, an elongation of his strong arms. His moves were precise and executed carefully, his eyes flickering around like he was anticipating her every next step.

“There does not need to be talking during a fight,” she said through gritted teeth as Pika gifted her with a particularly hard hit.

Shifting her feet, she tried to ignore Kekoa and Soren, who were training on the residential path in the royal garden, the collisions of their weapons a constant background noise.

They decided to train outside, now that the merciless wind settled down enough so they wouldn’t catch a lung infection.

“Still, it is unusual for you not to excuse your lame hits and slacking posture.” Pika grinned, sweat trailing down his temples. Noora knew he was goading her and disappointingly, she was stupid enough to indulge him.

Feigning a left strike she jumped between different stances, Pika grunting at her fast hits before he found himself chin to her blade.

“What did you say?” Noora asked him with a satisfied glint in her eyes. She proceeded to hold the tip of her blade just shy of his chin and he let his sword clatter to the ground before he held up both his hands. “All right, you do not owe me any answers.”

Her gaze flickered towards Soren whose knees were looking like they would cave in on themselves any moment. Kekoa looked more than bored with his fighting partner that he yet again outshined.

“Maybe you could give me some answers.” Noora let her sword sink as Pika reached for the pile of towels they brought with them outside, alongside two carafes of water. “Sure,” he said while offering Noora her towel and using his own to rid his forehead of sweat.

Throwing her sword away, she took the offered towel and nodded over to Kekoa and Soren, who were currently watched by a third party.

“Who is he and why is he on the jury for the tournament?”

Pika’s gaze flickered toward the imposing Sosye trailing left to right as he watched Kekoa’s strategy closely. His strong arms were clasped behind his upper body, muscles flexing. They were the size of a log and Noora believed being in a headlock in those arms meant an instant death.

“His name is Koa-Ailani, he is the high chief of the Sosye clan residing close to the border of Oy Frossen,” Pika offered indifferently.

Noora watched the witch hunter from afar, he was dressed in a long cloak, the edges of his collar lined with fur just as the edges of the sleeves. Noora did not need to wonder if it was real fur or not.

His hair was braided once again, resting on his broad back, his already dark eyes lined with coal, the jagged scar distorting half his face.

“Why would a high chief participate in something as silly as this tournament?” Noora asked.

“Witch hunting might not be allowed in Oy Frossen but to have the royal family on your good side is not a stupid thing to do. As far as I have heard the Sosye clans have been gathering over time, now that the king considers an alliance with the South Kingdom it drew their interest.”

Koa-Ailani caught Noora’s gaze and she quickly glanced away, feeling herself start to tremble with the knowledge that his attention was still on her. He could smell her blood even from that far away and she bet that he just needed a small knife that he could throw and it would land straight in her heart.

“Are they afraid?” she asked Pika just to divert herself from her gruesome imagery.

“Are Sosye ever afraid?” He raised a brow and Noora huffed out a breath.

“I would probably do the same,” Pika said as he took a sip of water before continuing, his throat bobbing with his swallows. “If the South Kingdom and Oy Frossen build an alliance they are practically a world power, they could eviscerate the whole people of witch hunters on this continent.”

Noora put down her towel. “But why would they? Oy Frossen is not in any feuds with the witch hunters, wouldn’t it be a waste to fight them? No matter how outnumbered they are.”

“Well, despite them not being in any wars, the traditions and the way the Sosye live is out of the ordinary for the people who live here. They are seen as brutish and improper, they believe in Pele, a different god than the royal family does, and regarding their extravagant clothing it seems just like the cherry on top.”

Noora scoffed as Kekoa slapped the sword out of Soren’s hand again. “Lately I’ve been thinking that Oy Frossen has something against anyone that doesn’t fit their standards,“ she said, remembering the way the queen talked to her and the familiar slur she had used.

“I cannot believe my eyes.” A voice calls out in the courtyard, making every participant—and Koa-Ailani— turn their heads towards the steps that lead out of the palace and towards the palace gardens.

Skipping down the steps happily, dressed in black trousers and an impeccable dark blue peacoat with golden ornaments stitched onto it, was the king, directing his words toward the gathered crowd.

“Here I thought the contestants would use the grand courtyard to improve their skills in fighting but what I see is the two of you babbling away like old spinsters.” A mischievous glint shone in his eyes as he trained his gaze on Noora and Pika.

“Your Majesty.” Pika bowed. “We have just finished our round and I can say with a great conscience that Noora has improved very much in her skills.”

“Has she indeed,” Nikolai said, his eyes flitting towards Noora who raised her chin stubbornly.

“Don’t sound too happy,“ she snapped and somehow his lips tilted upwards at her rough tone.

He strode over to them, his walk confident just with a tinge of laziness in it, though something felt off about it.

“Why don’t you show me, love, how much you’ve improved?” He gestured over to Pika’s sword. “May I?”

Noora flinched at the way he called her.

“Of course!” Pika quickly got out of the way while Nikolai slowly peeled himself out of his peacoat. He discarded it on the frozen grass without a care.

“I think I’m too exhausted to fight again,” Noora said, somehow there was an inner voice inside her that told her how much of a bad idea it was to fight against the king.

“Don’t be shy, let’s see what you’ve got.”

Revealing a black crumbled shirt, he picked up Pika’s sword and got into stance.

“Nikolai, I don’t think that’s—”

“Pick the sword up, Noora,” Nikolai interrupted her, his voice dropping a few octaves.

Despite her worries, she picked up the weapon ready to get in stance but Nikolai was already lunging at her.

“Hey!” she yelled as she barely parried his strike. “That’s not fair, I was not ready!” she yelled as he continued to advance on her, drawing her backward with every hit. Noora caught off guard, stumbled like a child trying its first steps as she barely managed not to end up as minced meat.

“You always have to be ready,” Nikolai said as their blades collided, so loud it felt like the sound mimicked thunder.

A concentrated look marred his features, his eyes rid of the usual pale colour, his whole body tight like a bow.

Annoyance made its way into Noora’s bloodstream and with a few steps she corrected her stance and started to attack.

Her strikes came quick and precise; she slashed at him before spinning and turning her movement into a stab. Though no matter how hard she tried, Nikolai was always one step ahead, deflecting her hits before parrying.

Sweat trickled down her back as Noora’s hand started to cramp around the hilt of her sword. Her body was screaming in exhaustion but Nikolai was not letting her go.

They travelled through the courtyard still fighting until their feet hit the grass.

Noora rolled behind a rose bush just as Nikolai chopped downward at her, his gaze blazing.

“What are you doing?” Noora snapped quietly so the others wouldn’t hear.

“Fighting,” Nikolai stated before Noora got up and blocked his next hit.

This time when she slashed at him Nikolai was too slow. The blade of her sword got him on his left side, sliding over his skin superficially.

Shocked, Noora stumbled over a vase filled with hydrangeas and her back hit the grass.

“Hel,” she cursed, her head throbbing as it collided with the ground.

Nikolai was around the bush in an instant, kicking her fallen sword to the side, before holding the tip of his blade to her throat.

“Heavens, you just look exquisite like this.” His voice turned rough as he said it, making Noora blanch.

Her foot shot out and kicked against his kneecap, making him grunt and drop down in front of her. With a tortured breath she got up, her limbs aching as she pushed him down on his back, bracketing his ribs with her thighs and retrieving his sword.

With a triumphant grin, she held it against his throat.

“Well, I think I like this position just as much,” Nikolai’s breath hit her cheek and Noora drew back when she realised why he was behaving this oddly.

“Are you drunk?” she said under her breath.

Nikolai grinned, holding up his thumb and pointer finger, the tips almost touching. “Just a tiny bit.”

Noora scoffed. “You are disgusting.”

Before she could get up and stride away, Nikolai’s thigh hooked around her hip and her head started to spin before she was the one back on the ground, with Nikolai hovering over her.

“I find your annoyance blissfully delightful, I could bathe in the fire of your eyes, Noora,“ his voice rasped and for a moment the breath got knocked out of her lungs as she met his gaze.

His eyes looked so earnest that she almost pitied him. Almost.

“Get off of me, you brute.” She pushed at his chest and apparently, the adrenaline finally left his body and he tumbled to the side. Noora sat up, a sharp pain exploding under her chest.

A rib might’ve been broken when she fell over that stupid vase.

“You’re pathetic, you know that?” She turned to glare at Nikolai who was strangely still, lying on his back.

“Nikolai.” She nudged him but his eyes stayed closed, his chest rising slowly.

“Heavens, Kai!” She gripped his shoulders and started to shake him.

“What happened?” Pika’s voice appeared as he rounded the corner, Kekoa and Koa-Ailani hot on his trail.

“I don’t know he just passed out!” She bit her tongue before it could slip out that he was properly smashed with an alcoholic beverage.

“He needs to get to the healers.” Goosebumps covered Noora’s skin in an instant as the Sosye chief spoke up.

She flinched as he squatted down beside her and slipped his hands beneath the king’s body, lifting him.

Noora watched him, her mouth dropping open as Koa-Ailani casually carried Nikolai like he weighed 10 kilograms and not 80.

Her brain was all dazzled as she watched the witch hunter carry an unconscious Nikolai away.