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Chapter 41

Noora

It almost took a whole week, lots of cleaning and re-bandaging, and Tyra’s magic brew to heal the broken bone in Noora’s arm. The purple splotches on the skin over her ribs turned yellow and her lip healed fully. The only thing that would not improve with the usual fast pace was the bite on her calf. She was strong enough to only use one crutch now as a provisional walking stick when she went out into the palace gardens, with Spike and Lulva and took a walk. Noora did not try to be pessimistic but there was only a day left until the last trial and her calf was killing her. The saliva of Nidghorr had to be embedded with some kind of poison or fluid that made it harder for her to heal. She wondered if she were fully mortal, she would have died from the bite mark. No matter how her condition progressed she would take part in the trial and win the prize. She was currently in first place as the jury was very generous in the second task, taking in the fact that she almost died during that one.

The last trial was rather tame, Tyra visited her last night and provided her with enough information to stoke her arrogant presumption that she could win the tournament.

“You will be brought back into the arena where all of you fought the wolves,” Tyra said as she lounged on the settee across from her bed. Her hair was braided today a few dark strands curling stubbornly at her temples which she tried to brush away now and then. She lounged in her usual leather gear, Noora suspected she preferred it to the gilded gowns and tight corsets.

“This time there will be a small pedestal in the middle surrounded by steel wires, like a small ring to fight in and prevent anyone from getting out.”

“Or getting in,” Noora added. Tyra nodded.

“Since you are currently in first place you do not have to win with any grace.”

Noora’s brows raised in surprise. “That is surprisingly relieving.” It meant she only had to win, taking into account that her calf was still burning like Hel she looked very much forward to resting in first place this time. She did not need to prove anything anymore. Nidghorr’s head had said enough.

Tyra nodded, twirling the end of her braid around her calloused finger.

“If we look at the statistics you will either fight Keoka or Pika in the last round, though I think Pika is not ruthless enough to defeat someone like Kekoa.”

“I would not underestimate him, in the end, Pika is Sosye as much as Kekoa is. He might not be as lithe as Kekoa but he is strong and steady.”

Tyra turned in her seat to look at Noora. “You’re right but let’s imagine Pika wins against his opponent, would you be able to fight against him? It would be in your favour to go against Kekoa. Your little feud could provoke him and make him careless.”

Noora grimaced, she did not like the sound of Tyra’s strategising. As if she was not able to defeat one or the other without some kind of advantage.

“I do not care which one I have to fight against, in that moment the person who is with me in the ring will become the enemy.”

“Huh, and here I thought that you and Pika were friends.”

Noora shook her head. “Witches and Sosye cannot be friends, no matter how kind Pika is, he is who he is, as much as I am who I am.”

Tyra got up from the settee and strode over to where Noora was resting. She flopped onto the mattress making the bed bounce a few times in the process.

“Is it not sad?”

“What?”

“How our heritage decides who can be our friends or allies? I think it is very curious how we produced all of these categories, human, witch hunter, witch. Oy Frossen, the Southern Kingdom, East and West. As if we do not all bleed the same when pricked. As if we all do not grief the same when we are struck.”

Tyra’s words reverberated in the room and both girls stayed silent. Noora started to pick at a hole in her duvet, it was the same size as Spike’s left canine, the wolf had bounced on the bed a few days ago, trying to drag the duvet off of a sleeping Noora so they could get outside and take a walk. It had left only one hole inside the fabric. Now Noora pushed her small finger inside of it, the fabric tearing more, the hole stretching gently with the pressure she exerted.

Suddenly Tyra slapped the bed and got up, turning her back on Noora, still, she could catch how she quickly wiped beneath her eyes.

“I will leave you alone now so you can rest.”

Before Noora could call after her or offer reluctant comfort, the princess dashed out of the room, the door slamming behind her. The cutlery on her nightstand from lunch clinked softly, producing a sound that reminded her of the bells they would ring in town when it was time for Sunday’s mass.

Today Noora regained her strength and decided to visit the training room in the cellar, to at least prepare her lazy muscles for the torture they would have to go through tomorrow during the trial. She dressed in her usual uniform, which sat snug around her body, wincing slightly when she needed to drag the fabric over the stitches in her calf. Before she could think about it too much, she grabbed one bedazzled crutch and left her chamber. On her way through the palace’s halls, she came across a few servants, carrying bed sheets to the washing or firewood stacked high in their arms. Every single one of them halted and spared her a small curtsey, something close to fear shining in their eyes. Respect.

The more servants that crossed her path downwards the more confused she got. She was glad once she stepped into the chamber, smelling like sweat and desperation, though she halted in the doorframe when she realised that the training room had been rearranged.

“Have I slept a few days or a year?”

Pika looked up from beside the pedestal that was placed in the middle of the room, iron bars surrounding it. It looked like what Tyra explained to her last evening. They got rid of the climbing wall, parkour, and the small table that was used for crushing herbs to make as much space for the fighting ring as possible. The space was currently occupied by Kekoa who looked rather annoyed as he tried to explain to Soren how he should hold a longsword.

“It is good to see you standing again.” Pika approached her and before Noora could reply he pulled her into a hug. In her astonishment, she let go of the crutch as her body was pulled into the air. Pika squeezed her tightly and swayed her left and right as if a grizzly bear was playing with its prey before it would devour it whole.

“You can put me down now,” Noora breathed and to her relief, he quickly put her back to her feet, bending down to pick up her fallen crutch and offer it to her.

“I am sorry but you got us worried. You look so much better now, not like you are…”

“On the brink of death?” she offered and watched him flush in embarrassment as he nodded.

“You cannot blame us, the way you looked drenched in all that blood like–”

“A vengeful angel that has been sent up by– what do you call the devil?” Kekoa leaned against the iron bars, inserting himself into the conversation.

“Djevel,” Noora answered.

Kekoa nodded satisfied. “I have to admit it was really impressive how you dropped that beheaded creature into the snow, sounds like something I could come up with.”

“Shut up, that is a lie. You could not even defeat Nidghorr,” Pika threw at him, making them both enter a bickering contest while Noora tried to ask herself if Kekoa just complimented her.

“Anyway,” Kekoa interrupted Pika’s next point to focus back on Noora. “What you did was very brave.”

Noora blinked at him a few times, her gaze wandering over his features. “Is this some kind of joke?”

Kekoa puffed himself up. “Why would I be joking?”

“I don’t know maybe the fact that the last time we two saw each other you tried to kill me.”

He rolled his eyes. “Did they not tell you that I was poisoned?”

“Of course they did. Does that mean I should ignore every other insult that you threw at me all this time and promised to make me suffer? Multiple. Times. Or, sorry, were you poisoned at that time as well? Because if yes, no one told me about that.”

She crossed her arms, raising her chin to look at him. The witch hunter sighed, before ducking under the iron bars and hopping off the pedestal. Noora already raised her clutch to keep him at arm’s length, even though it slightly threw her off balance.

“Do relax, humans can grow with their tasks, are you aware of that?”

“Mortals can but Sosye cannot.”

Kekoa threw her an angry look but to her surprise, he stayed calm. “I am offering you a truce, witch, no more threats, no more sabotaging.” He held out his dark-skinned hand, littered with small blisters and peeled-off skin.

She slowly let the crutch sink, staring at his hand. “I did not poison you.”

He raised a brow. “If you want to look at it that way.”

“I did not poison you, you bastard. Do you think I’d need Wolfsbane to defeat you? I can do that just fine on my own,” she snapped. Now she knew what the queen felt like days ago when she accused her of sabotaging the tournament.

“I am well aware of that hence my peace offering.”

Noora blanched. Was he being serious? How could she ever accept a peace offering from someone who was wired to despise her and hunt her down? Her gaze flitted to Pika who had a similarly surprised look on his reddened face. When he shrugged his shoulders, she turned back to look at Kekoa, who was now reaching a hand down to her.

“I do not mean that I suddenly like you. I want to win this tournament and if that means beating you, I will. However, I will not defile my honour and bring shame to my clan by sabotaging anyone. This is not an act of kindness, witch, but an act of honour.”

His hand was still hovering in front of her and she eyed it for a moment. What advantage could he get out of this? Even if she did agree on a truce, she did not need to believe him. She stepped forward and steeled herself as she slipped her cold hand into his. Kekoa’s skin was warm and calloused, his shake was firm and short. She tried not to think about where his hands had been and who they were responsible for killing.

It was quiet in the training room, just for a moment, something shifted in the air. Noora could not pinpoint what it was and to be honest she would rather not.

“Well…” Pika trailed off and Kekoa shook his head slightly.

“Let’s go for another round.” He turned and started to instruct Soren again who seemed more confused than usual. Pika and Noora went a little offside the ring so they could warm up for when it was their turn to fight. Noora leaned the crutch against the cobbled stone wall and slowly started to squat her right leg, so her injured calf could rest for a while longer. Pika started with his arms and even though she only told Tyra yesterday that they were not friends she could not help but probe.

“What do you think about it?” She asked.

“Kekoa’s truce?” He shrugged. “Kekoa is a lot of things, many of them that are unacceptable but he is not a coward. I do not think he is the one who sabotaged your shoes or poisoned himself. How would that bring an advantage to him? He failed the second task with barely any points.”

Pika switched arms as she nodded slowly. “That was the same thing I thought and told the queen. The question is who would even gain anything from sabotaging the tournament?”

Even though she did suspect the queen in the beginning, and whatever strange thing was going on with her hands covered in black ink, in hindsight it would not make any sense to be her.

“I would not know but it has to be someone knowledgeable,” Pika said. “It’s rather calculating to poison a witch hunter with wolfsbane.”

“But why not poison us all? Why only Kekoa? My skates might have been sabotaged but it was not that of a hindrance and you were followed by Hel knows what’s in that forest. It feels all too arbitrary, like there was no thought behind it.”

“Does it? Maybe that person did it that way on purpose for it to look like a matter of coincidence. In the end, we have all been hindered in some kind of way. You almost died.”

Noora nodded, staring into the air as she stretched the hamstrings of her thigh. This made no sense at all. The fact that they did not know the purpose of the perpetrator made it all the harder to figure out who it was. What was the motive? What was the goal?

“What did the king say?”

Her head snapped back to look at Pika who eyed her curiously. She stood up slowly, her muscles screaming at her. “Why would he say anything to me?”

Pika raised a blonde brow. “I am quite aware of the fact that the king has formed a liking towards you, Noora. No need to pretend.”

“He has not. And he also did not say anything about the sabotage to me besides the fact that they were looking for the person who did all of this.”

A small grin formed on Pika’s lips.

“What?” Noora snapped.

“Nothing, you are the one who is being defensive.”

“I am not being defensive, I am only telling you that you are mistaken regarding the prince’s supposed interest in me.”

“I bet he likes that,” Pika said his grin only widening when Noora threw him an annoyed look.

“What are you on about?”

“The fact you call him prince instead of king? You do that on purpose.”

This conversation was going in the wrong direction entirely. Noora felt the blood pool in her cheeks as annoyance spread through her at Pika’s words.

“Technically he has not been crowned yet so he is still a prince.”

“His father has been dead for years and he is the heir of the throne that makes him king.” Pika shrugged and tried to go for a grimace that made Noora think he was trying to look innocent. “You are only doing it to spite him and it drives him crazy,” he said.

“You are talking utter nonsense and if you do not stop, I will not defer from striking you in the face.”

Pika rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to go on, though Noora’s fist was quicker. She did not use any real force but Pika still groaned as her knuckles collided with the side of his face. His hand flew up to his cheek which was slowly turning redder. Pika shot her a look. “I understand you do not like to be teased.”

A quick smile flitted across her lips before she turned and started to stretch her left leg.

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