Chapter 6

Nikolai

“How do I look?” He turned to look at Raphael who smiled encouragingly.

“Like a fool,” a third voice joined, making both men turn around to look at the approaching figure. Nikolai thought that they were alone in the corridor as he had been passing in front of Princess Aileen-Akamu's chambers for the past half an hour. Tyra greeted him with a sadistic smile as she leaned against the doors that led into the princess’s chambers.

“What are you doing here?” he asked her, the lack of patience obvious in his voice. “What? You think I would miss this?”

She took a few steps forward, stopping in front of her brother. “Asking her with panic glinting in your eyes won’t make the princess agree to an engagement. She wants someone who can fill her land with gold. A confident king, not a self-conscious boy.”

Nikolai narrowed his eyes at his sister. “She will have no other choice but to say yes.” As harsh and sad as the words were, they were the truth. A bitter taste spread on his tongue.

His sister closed in on him, anger on her face. “Don’t do this Nikolai. Don’t doom an innocent bystander for our kingdom’s failures.”

He sputtered in astonishment. “Do you think I want to do this, Tyra? Her kingdom needs me as much as mine does need her, she knew from the beginning that this marriage was not a love match and was purely political. She could have refused to come here. This is as much beneficial for her as it is for us!”

“No, she couldn’t! Her parents made her do this or else she would’ve watched one of her younger sisters have to marry you. She’s already grieving the life that hasn’t even begun!”

“And what is it to you, sister? You are free to do everything you want but you have been doing nothing but nagging me about things that I don’t have control over. Why don’t you do something that is your business?”

“It is my business because I’m in love with her!”

Deafening silence ensued around them as her voice reverberated around the palace walls.

Both their chests heaving as they stared at each other. Tyra’s eyes widened in horror at her words while Nikolai tried to process what she said.

“You’re in love with her?”

Raphael had left them two to it for a long time, his absence leaving only a place for their anger. The air was sizzling between them, expanding to make place for their cage filled with desperation.

Horrified, his sister hid her face behind her hands. He reached out for her.

“Tyra, I’m sorry I—”

“No, you’re not,” she growled and turned her back on him, her hands wiping over her cheeks quickly.

“How can you say that? I never want you to hurt, you’re my sister I want to protect you.”

She pushed him away harshly before turning around. “You do not care about anything other than her . You’re putting on a farce, letting everyone believe that you have everything under control and that you’e not hurting. But I’m not stupid.” She shook her head in disappointment. “You’re angry. Angry at everyone for something no one is at fault but the Sosye. So grow up Nikolai.”

“I am not angry. I am sorry.”

“You’re not, if you were you wouldn’t marry her.” Without another word she turned around and left the hallway. Nikolai stared after her, feeling the ground opening up beneath him and swallowing him whole. This was only his fault and he was aware of it. An union of the southern and northern kingdoms was the only way out of the mess he had found himself entrapped in. He dug his own grave now he was the only one who could get him out.

Noora

Skinning an animal was never something Noora enjoyed. The first time she did it she had to hunch over behind a drying bush, emptying her already scarcely filled stomach. She felt awful having wasted food which forced her to create a routine that was foolproof and hindered further nutrition emptying from her body. She wouldn’t dare eat any food when she knew she was about to skin an animal. Tying her hair back into a braid, and out of her face, she tried to do it as quick and precise as possible.

The next three times she still heaved, though her stomach was empty of anything. She tried to breathe through her mouth rather tasting than smelling the salty characteristics of iron and blood. At first, she used a pocket knife, which she stole from the orphanage’s kitchens, though, after selling a few pelts and meat she required her own kit, carefully stored in a leather-bound satchel.

Now it was only a procedure of ten minutes before she distinguished the parts she wanted to sell, dumping the flesh and organs into an improvised basket weaved out of the leaves of cherry laurel. It was the best material because it never soaked in all the blood that was so desired by the vendors.

The soft parts were all placed in the basket, wolf pelt swung around her shoulders Noora made her way to the weekly market.

The crunches of the forest quickly gave way to solid ground, the buzzing noise of voices and calls grew louder the further she got into town. Stepping into the familiar chaos of the weekly market Noora calculated in her head the estimated prize of her findings. If Madam van Dijk was in a good mood, she may score fifty Gulls to go home with, ten of which she would have to spend on a new tin of salve.

“Young lady! What a beautiful pelt you have there, you are lucky that I noticed you, so I will give you five Gulls for it.” A vendor stepped in her way, his black hair slicked back on his square-shaped head. Beady eyes stared at her or rather at the pelt around her shoulders.

“Get lost,” she grumbled before shouldering her way past the offended man. “HEY! Damn, half-blood.”

Noora’s shoulders stiffened but she quickly carried on past stands filled with stuffed pastries, fresh tomatoes, and glittering patterns of cloth.

A rule one had to know about the market was that you could trust no one. The vendors were like wolves, stalking their prey efficiently until they could pounce at the right moment.

Noora had to learn this the hard way.

She couldn’t count the times she had been betrayed or been paid too little for her findings but she knew better now. She travelled past all the first stands most people stopped at, those were the most expensive. Wedged between a table of freshly baked bread and marinated lobster clamps was a fairly rugged looking stand. The awning was stitched together with various materials, and a few new holes made their way into it since the last time Noora was here. The table beneath was filled with bits and pieces, looking rotten and used. A pair of crooked glasses lay beside a pot that had green moss of the forest stuck to its handles and inside, looking like a witch had been brewing something.

“Who’s interrupting my midday knitting?” An old woman appeared from nowhere, a frumpy look on her face.

Her gray hair was wound into a tight knot at the back of her head; a few strands escaped and lay on her hunched shoulders. She was dressed in a gown that was freakishly similar to the yellow, green, and red-stitched awning. In her hands, she carried large knitting needles, a greenish something hanging from them. The colour reminded Noora of a pond located in the forest.

“Oh, it is you.” Madam van Dijk’s face fell as she squinted up at Noora before her eyes wandered over the pelt.

“I have no desire for a dead fox today, Gal.” Noora tried to not roll her eyes at the name she had used for months. She heaved the basket filled with the wolf’s insides on the table, making a few rotten spoons clatter against each other.

“This,” she took the pelt off her shoulders, “is not a fox, Madam. It’s a wolf and you know that you are going to get a good deal with me coming to you first. So why don’t we speed up the process where you act like I am a stranger.”

She raised a pale eyebrow, making the old hag glare at her condemningly.

“You should hold your tongue before someone cuts it out, Noora,” she tutted her, laying the needles aside to peer into the basket.

“Hmm.” She stroked her chin and Noora noticed a hair growing out of it. It took everything in her not to visibly shudder.

“This looks indeed very good,” she went on to consider the pelt while Noora couldn’t help but eavesdrop on a few customers walking past.

“The land is dying, I tell you, Daphne. Richard said the Farmer’s couple did not spare a single sprout, Azrael said the forest was almost empty of any deer.”

“You always listen to what everyone says, Matilda, I told you…” The voices drowned out as they passed the stand and carried on without sparing a look at Madam Van Dijk’s stand.

“Now, I can spare you twenty Gulls for both.” An old gnarly hand snipped in front of her face. Noora focused back on the Madam. “Do you want to sell it or not? I don’t have all day.”

“Yeah, I can see that you are flooded with customers,” Noora said, before shaking her head. “Twenty is too little and you know it. How many hunters do you know that sell you a wolf this intact and not just the scattered insides already devoured half by another predator. ” She crossed her arms in front of her.

The madam narrowed her uncanny-looking eyes.

“Twenty-five.”

“Seventy Gulls,” Noora said with a straight face. The Madam started to laugh right in her face. Spit landed on her cheek and she quickly got rid of it before she felt too tempted to hit an old woman.

“Thirty.”

“Sixty.”

They both stared at each other and Noora knew she just had to push a little further until she got what she wanted.

“Thirty-five.”

“Fifty and you tell me what these women were talking about. That’s my last offer, Madam, or I will go to Jan.”

The woman gasped so hard that Noora feared she was having a stroke. “You would not dare, you foolish child!”

Noora just arched a brow and the Madam grumbled under her breath while reaching beneath her dress. She pulled out a small lilac sack that she let fall into the girl’s hand, whose eyes were bright with arrogance. “What makes you think I know what these women were talking about?”

Noora weighed the sack in her hand before attaching it to her belt. “You know everything about everyone.”

Now it was the old woman’s turn to arch her brow. She lured her in closer with her finger as she lowered her voice to a scratchy whisper.

“It is rumored that the lands of Oy Frossen haven’t been fruitful anymore, the trees are dying the farmers are out of harvest and even the animals are starving to death. I am surprised you found a wolf this well-fed, they are rarely seen anymore.”

Noora tried not to think of the forest and the strange feeling she had sensed while walking through it. Like walking through a graveyard. “I got lucky, I guess. What do you think caused this?”

Now the woman looked almost fearful as her graying eyes darted around the market.

“It is rumored that the royal family has fallen ill. Their connection to the land is the only logical explanation. The queen must be dying for the land to be this miserable. But do not run your mouth about this, any doubt about the royals will end you in treason, girl. Now go.”

“But if—” Madam Van Dijk didn’t let her continue. “Go. Off.” She shooed her hands at her, golden bracelets clinking on her fragile wrists.

Noora sighed but decided not to further investigate as she turned on her heel to leave the stand. She had her gold. Still, something tugged at her stomach and she turned around to see the Madam had gone back to knitting.

“Van Dijk!”

The woman looked up, squinting her eyes at the retreating form of the girl.

“I would’ve sold for twenty Gulls.” Her lips spread into an easy grin. She didn’t expect the wink of the Madam at her. “I would’ve given you seventy.”

Noora’s lips parted in surprise before she stumbled over something and the world fell apart.

Thanks to her quick reflexes she managed not to land and damage her knees but rather roll off onto her side. Small stones dug into her palms which scuffed open by the hard ground beneath her. What happened?

Noora was never clumsy or unaware of her surroundings. Covered in dust and mud she turned to balance herself on her elbows. She squinted against the burning sun, to see three figures looming above her.

“Who do we have here?”

Goosebumps rushed over her spine like needles at the grating voice. He stepped to the right to block the sun, revealing a cruel grin. A freckled face stared down at her, a head full of blonde greasy strands and wide shoulders, wide enough to hide his scarce-looking friends.

The boy squatted down in front of her and ripped the lilac satchel from her belt. Throwing it up and catching it in his hands, he grinned. His two front teeth were too large for his face, though it was not why Noora started to glare the second she recognised him.

The face of the devil belonged to no other than Isak Pedersen.

“The half-blood whore made some good investment it seems, pity, now it’s mine.” He got back up and Noora quickly followed him, hating to be somewhat at a disadvantage.

“That is mine, give it back to me,” she seethed. Isak looked at his two followers before they broke out into hollering laughter. Noora’s hands formed two fists at her sides as she watched them. Her body had an instant fight or flight reaction every time she came into contact with these three. They often lingered by the orphanage but she was only forced to share a space longer with them than one hour on Sundays, during church.

They were locals of the town, Isak’s father was known for his import ships at the haven, selling flour and spices to the east Kingdom.

“Do you not know? Gulls are the currency of Oy Frossen and therefore of its population, you are hardly that.”

“I am from Oy Frossen just as you are,” she threw back. Isak’s words no longer stung when he threw them at her. She had developed a thick skin after everything she had to fight against.

“Is that so? I could’ve sworn…” he trailed off before he yanked at her moon-white hair.

“Is this not the hair of a witch? The skin?” Noora bit her tongue when his hand wound around her wrist, to show his friends her pale skin. His grip wound tighter and tighter until she had to cry out in pain.

He shoved her to her knees. “You are not from Oy Frossen, you were sent from the Abyss and you are just lucky that the Sosye haven’t hunted you down yet, you whore.”

He spit on the ground before her. His friends broke back into laughter. The sound screeched high like excited hyenas.

“Remember the time we made you eat the deliciously ground of Oy Frossen to get some of its essence into your veins? That was a delightful day,” he taunted.

He was provoking her, he wanted her to lose her temper since Isak knew he had the upper hand. Noora was strong and knew how to hunt, but her physical power was nothing against his political one.

She was barely tolerated here. And despite what Isak said, what he knew her to be, he was wrong. She never showed any characteristics of being a witch, no spells or powers. Nothing. The longer she suppressed it the more she believed it herself. She was connected to nature and that was it.

Isak bowed down again, tilting his head at her. “Maybe we should track down your freckled friend and make her watch you eat it.”

“She should eat too!” One of his friends, Noa, chimed in. Aksel quickly followed, his elongated face turning into an excited grimace. “After we beat her black and blue.”

“Don’t you dare touch her.” Noora almost bared her teeth at them at the mention of Lulva.

“I see we’ve hit a nerve.” Isak grinned. “No worries, we will treat her very nicely.”

It was enough.

Noora could handle these idiots. She didn’t mind eating the dirt, didn’t mind them pulling at her hair or calling her a half-breed whore. But they would not touch Lulva.

A high-pitched scream left Isak and just then Noora noticed she was standing. Her bow was clutched in her hand but the arrow was located elsewhere.

She shot the arrow through the top of Isaks shirt pinning him to the wall of a nearby building. He looked at her with fearful eyes.

Her chest heaved as she glared at Noa and Aksel. “Do you want to join him? The next arrow goes through someone’s eye.”

They could not have scattered more quickly.

“Hey! You bastard traitors!” Isak called after them. He stiffened in fear when Noora approached him. Her gear was splattered with mud and her scalp still stung from him pulling at it minutes ago.

In a matter of milliseconds, she drew her skinning knife and held it against his throat.

“What are you doing?” Isaks face widened in fear, sweat gathered above his lip. Noora narrowed her eyes again. “Are you scared now?” She pressed the blade against his skin, hard enough that he would feel the cool metal but too little to actually slice skin. If she had shed Oy Frossen’s blood, she could not imagine what the townspeople would do.

Luckily the building was hidden by the shade, and the mass of people around them was too distracted by the market.

Isak started to tremble, sweat trickled down the side of his temples, making the wheat-coloured strands stick to his skin.

“No matter what you call me, Isak, it will never distract from your devoid character and plain heart. Your words do not hurt me and I might spare you today,” she drew a little closer, smelling the scent of his sweat. “But if you mention her again if you dare look at her again, I will pull out your intestines, skin your body, and sell it on this market, do you understand?”

He nodded frantically but quickly stopped when he realised it was drawing the blade against his skin further.

“Do you understand?” she repeated slowly. “Answer me with words, Isak.”

“I understand—please—please do not kill me. It was just a bit of fun.”

Noora scoffed. Just a bit of fun.

“You disgust me.” She ripped the satchel filled with her Gulls out of his hand. “I believe this belongs to me.”

She pulled the arrow out of his shirt and he slumped to the ground in relief. She turned her back to him, not sparing him a glance but when she was at a safe distance he seemed to regain some of his courage.

“You will pay for this.”

“Maybe, but at least it was worth it.”

She needed to stock up on that salve.