Chapter 7

Noora

A deep sound escaped his lips as Noora’s lips travelled along his angled jaw, capturing every dip and curve of his throat. She hovered over him as their lips met again, soft and slow at first, before it turned heated once more. She could imagine that the hay was digging into his back and her clothes were smelling of stew but he still pulled her closer to him. His fingers travelled over her clothed spine as if he were counting every single vertebra.

Her fingers started to undo the buttons of his shirt as his fingers slipped under her tunic. Noora stiffened in pain, making Lukas stop to look at her.

“What’s wrong? I thought it was all right if I touched them?” His fingers drew back from the scarred and pebbled skin of her back.

“You can,” she said through clenched teeth. “I’m just a little sore from working in the kitchens.”

She tried to lower herself again to catch his lips but he dodged her, making her roll off his warm body. She landed in the hay with an offended huff. She spit out a few stray heaps of hay.

“You’re hurt again, aren’t you?” He narrowed his eyes at her as if she was at fault for it.

“I’m not, I told you I’m just sore. I can keep on going.” She tried to reach for the leather belt around his narrow hips, which seemed to fuel his anger. He brushed her off and got to his knees.

“How can you even think of that? How can you come here when you’re hurting?”

She got to her feet as well, sighing. “Lukas, if I would only come here when I was not hurt, I’d never be here, you know that.”

She scoffed at the look on his face. His hazel brows were drawn in, tan skin pulling into a frustrated grimace.

“Don’t look at me like you just found out about this. You know how they treat me.”

“But you told me it was better.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest. Noora could not believe him at this moment. Why did he make it sound like she was the one responsible for the way the townspeople treated her?

“Well, now it is worse. Lukas, please can we just spend the little time we have as resourceful as we can.”

“I hate this.” His voice cracked as he stepped forward, catching her face in his hands. She closed her eyes at the soft strokes of his thumbs, leaning upward. This time he let her catch his lips but only for a few moments. She was always drawn to him for the way he could make her forget the cruel things. Her back pulled less when it was surrounded by his arms and her mind came undone by the soft pressure of his lips.

He lowered his forehead to hers. “If you would stay here with me I could make sure you’d be all right.”

“We talked about this,” Noora whispered. She didn’t want to talk about it again. She wanted to kiss him and get lost in their heat, their bodies. To somehow forget the sound of the flying whip and the clinking the tin box made when she drew it open. She could wind down when she was with him, for one moment she could forget where she was and who she was. It was the only thing she yearned for.

“I know. But I want you to think about it, Noora. A life here at the farm. I have talked to my parents they would let me inherit earlier if I was genuine in my intentions. If I had a partner at my side and was bound—“

“What?” Noora stepped out of his hold, her cheeks growing cold at the loss of contact.

Lukas's blue eyes searched hers desperately as he took a step forward. “Don’t look so surprised, sweetheart. You knew it was going to end like this, I always wanted it. And if you marry me we could—“

“I am not going to marry you, Lukas.” Noora drew further away. How could he just drop this onto her? She was seventeen years old and ironically, that was not even the first thing that came to her mind as an obstacle when considering marriage with Lukas.

“You’re not?” he asked unsure.

Noora couldn’t help herself but release an acidic laugh. “Why would you even want to marry me, are you mad? It was not supposed to go like this. You were supposed to marry a girl from church who would gift you with five children and live happily ever after.”

“I don’t want a girl from church, I want you, Noora. The farm—“

“Would you stop about the goddamn farm for one second! I do not care about the farm, I do not care about this town or this godsforsaken kingdom.“ She started to button up her blouse in haste. “The moment I turn eighteen, and have enough Gulls I will leave Oy Frossen.”

“Leave?” Lukas’s voice croaked.

Noora stopped buttoning and looked up at him. “What did you think I would do?”

His brows furrowed. “I thought you loved me, but apparently I am wrong.”

“I do love you.”

He did not understand. She could not stay here, where she was only defined by her heritage, where she was spat at, hit at, and undermined by everyone who surrounded her. The people of Oy Frossen were far from welcoming when it came to treating people from outside the kingdom, though this was different. It was not just angry looks, it was violence and deep-rooted hate that Noora could not escape if she did not leave the kingdom.

He grew angry at that, his once kind eyes blazing in a black fire. “So let me get this right, you love me but you do not want to marry me, instead you want to leave Oy Frossen.”

She shook her head. “You don’t understand.”

“Well, finally we agree on something.”

She took a few steps towards him, taking his hands in hers.

“It is something entirely different when I love you than when you love me. You are not allowed to love someone like me. I am an orphan.”

They both knew that it was not only her lack of parents that stood in their path.

“I don’t care about that.”

“But you should. If not about that, you should about my heritage. You know what they say and you know it is true.”

“And? It does not matter who your parents are or what you are. I don’t care if your blood is not clean—“

She didn’t hear the rest of his words. She let go of his hands as something stung at the back of her head.

“I think I should go.”

“Noora please don’t. We can fix this. Maybe we could go to a healer to get rid of the heritage or blood that is from your witch parent.”

Anger bloomed inside her as she stared at him. She never knew what he thought about her heritage, it was a subject they always ignored.

“I am who I am and I am not going to change just so I can marry you and you will get your dream of a stinking farm with a dozen children.” He drew back at her words.

“Then leave. If you so desperately want to cling to the negative I cannot help you. You know, maybe Isak was right. Maybe you are not worth it.”

Her hand flew out in a matter of seconds. The satisfying crunch of his breaking nose accompanied her the rest of the way as she sneaked into the orphanage.

She was shivering when a small warm body slipped under her comforter and snuggled into her arms. Children’s hands drew up on her cheeks and dried them of her tears.

“Why are you sad? You are never sad when you meet with him,” Lulva whispered in the dark as Noora drew her close, desperate for some comfort. Noora just shook her head, her throat closed off, her eyes puffy and red.

“It’s all right, he is just a boy. I don’t like boys either.” This made her chuckle lightly as she made out Freckle’s face in the dark of the shared sleeping chamber. Her eyes lit up in the dark like two stars in the sky.

“There. Much better. You are always so pretty when you smile.”

“Lulva?” Noora’s voice was rough when she spoke.

“Yes?”

“I’ll get us out of here, I promise.”

“I know you will.”

The girls drifted into a deep slumber, their limbs and souls intertwined.

Nikolai

He threw his cloak over his shoulders, hiding the golden curls of his hair under the hood. He packed a small satchel with everything he needed, knowing that the forest was a day’s ride from the palace. The cool winter would bite into his face, his gloved hands the only thing remaining warm.

Strapping the sword to his back he used the slab candle stick beside the stoned chimney. A few cracks sounded until the wall gave away and revealed a cobbled path to nothingness.

With a last glance at his chamber, he stepped into the corridor, the door squeaking again as it closed behind his frame.

Not daring to light a fire, Nikolai didn’t waste a second before walking down into the darkness. His shoes echoed around the space until the darkness swallowed the sound as if he was walking into a path of his damnation.

Three turns left, one right, and follow the curve until you see moonlight.

It took him approximately two minutes until he smelled the earth of his kingdom, a slight drizzle of rain touching his face like a long-lost lover, desperate to be in contact with any part of him.

The rain would slow him down but nothing could keep him from his mission now.

The barns were thankfully empty as he descended towards the wheat-coloured mare. Greeting her with a pat to the side, he saddled her quickly but precisely as she neighed lightly at him.

Bumping her head against his side, it felt like she was telling him that this idea of his was a rather stupid one.

“I know. But I have to see it,” he mumbled into her beautifully woven mane and she gave another small neigh.

“See what?”

Nikolai turned so fast he feared he almost sprained his neck. There in the dark, leaning against a stall, was Raphael a hazel brow raised on his forehead.

He was still dressed in his uniform, his hand sitting on the hilt of his sword, which dangled at his hip.

“You cannot hold me back,” Nikolai stated as he finished saddling the horse.

“Who said I would?”

Nikolai stared at him.

Raphael pushed off the wooden panel and walked toward him, the light from the moon setting one side of his face ablaze.

“I have known you for a long time now, Your Majesty, and I have come to the conclusion that it is better to keep an eye on you, rather than restrain you to the grounds of the palace. I fear you would somehow find a way to sneak out anyway.”

Nikolai’s lips spread into a grin.

“That is something I can certainly agree with.”

“Well, then, let us go wherever Your Majesty plans to, because this rain soon is going to turn into a storm and I rather not be drenched to the bone when we come back.”

With a nod, Nikolai swung himself up on his horse. Raphael chose a black stallion, shimmers of midnight blue reflecting in its mane in the dim lighting.

Raphael was even faster with buckling up his horse and the two men were as quiet as shadows as they sneaked their way through the palace grounds.

“Where to, Your Majesty?”

“I want to see the lands, river av Livet, anywhere I can see the heart of my kingdom.”

Raphael’s eyes carried a dangerous glimmer.

“I know the perfect place for that.”

Whistling, the two urged their horses into a gallop,leaving the safety of the castle grounds in the drizzling rain.

Full of determination they carried through the darkness, descending into chaos they could not see coming.

But what they didn’t see were the eyes of pure evil, lurking in the darkness of a window frame, watching them leave.