Page 107 of The Heartless Archer

“What if there is a draw?” Pika asked from beside Kekoa.

Nikolai nodded. “Then those two will fight again until one wins.”

“What does winning entail?” Noora asked him. His gaze flew to her, lines crinkling beside his eyes in concern.

“You will fight until the first one who draws blood, you all have chosen weapons you can fight with. There will be points deducted if you keep on fighting after the first drop of blood is drawn.” He seemed to stare at Kekoa when he said it. “Stepping off the pedestal means you surrender which automatically makes your opponent the winner of the battle. Any other questions?” He looked at the four of them. A moment of silence occurred where they all seemed to realise that this was the end. One last hurdle to take and then they would all go back to their normal lives, without the comforting pillows of the palace, the steaming hot meals every morning, afternoon, and evening, and their bath to clean themselves in.

“What if we draw our own name in the sack?” Noora spoke, the eerie silence that occurred and seemed to crawl into the edges of the imposing throne room making her wary. Nikolai nodded again and motioned for someone in the background to come closer as if her question made the most sense in the world.

“We decided that the two in the first place, due to your points, will have the honour of drawing their opponent’s names. We of course extracted your names then.”

A guard reached them, a lilac satchel sitting in his gloved hands. A stoic look was on his face when he called their names. “Kekoa and Noora, step forward.”

Kekoa and Noora shared a glance before stepping forward and the guard offered him the sack first. His hand dove into the sack and Noora tried to compile a chart of all four of them. She needed to draw Sören’s name for Kekoa to get Pika. Kekoa was a powerful fighter and she guessed the only one able to overpower him might be someone else with the heritage of a hunter, which meant if Pika won against Kekoa she would have to fight against her…ally? She did not know what Pika qualified as, though she knew that he did deserve to win this tournament. Sören did too,though she did not think he would fare well in the battles, or any trial in general.

She held her breath, chanting Pika’s name over and over as Kekoa drew a small slip of parchment from the pouch. He unravelled the crinkled paper and read the name before a small smile spread across his cracked lips. “Sören.”

Noora’s shoulders sacked. She started to walk backward thinking the drawing was over but the guard held the pouch out for her. She furrowed her brows. “I know what the other name is in there. I don’t need to draw it.”

Her gaze flitted towards Nikolai who had an apologetic smile on his lips. “For formality’s sake, please, Noora.”

She sighed, ignoring the way he spoke her name, and grabbed the one other parchment from the pouch and opened it.

“Pika.” She rolled her eyes as Nikolai clapped one time into his hands, a satisfied look on his face. “Well, now that everything is settled the tournament can embark. The royal guards will escort you back towards the arena where you will fight in the last trial. I wish you all the best of luck.”

The opponents all turned but Noora threw a look over her shoulder to look at Nikolai who had his back turned, his shoulders slack. She narrowed her gaze as she saw Raphael joining him at his side surprised by his presence. He was lurking beside the imposing dais all this time and she had not noticed him. Raphael’s eyes met hers for a moment, before a guard nudged her forward, catching up with the other contestants.

Pika fell back from the group beside Noora as they walked through the various tunnels of the palace, toward their fated battles. “Are you as thrilled about these battles as I am?” he asked her and she shot him a look, making a deep chuckle rattle from his chest.

“At least we know that our opponent measures our skills. Poor Sören looks frightened to death now that he has to fight against Kekoa.”

Noora pulled at her chest plate. “Who knows, maybe Sören will surprise us and has improved. Kekoa did help him fight the last days.”

Pika raised a pale brow at her. Yes, he was right. Sören might have improved but to reach the fighting skills a person like Kekoa had was impossible in this short time. As far as Noora knew, hunters were trained from the moment they were strong enough to hold a weapon in their chubby little hands.

“If it changes anything, I think that if there is someone out there who can win against Kekoa it is you.”

Noora’s head whipped around to look at Pika.

“What if you win?”

His lips spread into a gentle smile. “I will not.”

She stopped walking and grabbed his elbow to prevent him from continuing.

“Pika, I do not want to fight against you if you hold back. I do not want your pity or your compassion.”

“Noora, I will not hold back. But we both know that even if you were blindfolded and one arm of yours was bound to your back you would still win against me. I do not enjoy fighting, nor hurting others.”

“Then go for my damn weaknesses, I swear if you will not fight against me as I deserve it then I will make you regret it,” she snarled at him. How could he say those things? How could he be so careless about winning if all she ever wanted—if everything that ever hurt her had made her so desperate to become a slave of the crown? Pure entertainment for their people, treated like an interesting doll that should be amusing rather than a real, breathing, human being.

Pika slowly slid his arm out of her hold and grabbed her hand in his. He swallowed her hand whole, the callus of their skin rubbing roughly against each other. “I promise you; you will receive the fight you deserve. I am just telling you that when you win–”

“If,” she bit out but he only shook his head.

“Whenyou win, Noora, I want you to remember who you are because you are not only all this rage that you think you have to cling to. Under all this rage I know there is a girl dreaming that there is good in the world and I promise you there is. But you have to defeat the rage to see the good. I believe in you, even though you do not believe in yourself.” Pika smiled at her and squeezed her hand. “Stop talking,” a guard spat at them as they finally reached the doors that would lead into the arena. Pika let go of Noora’s hand as they all turned to watch the doors open and Noora could not help herself but think of his words. He was right, there was a girl under all these layers of ice, frozen for the burning rage to sizzle inside her. Rage was all Noora ever knew, without rage she would not be alive to this day and if it meant killing the good in the world, she would cling to it with all her might, because without rage, without revenge she was nothing.

The doors screeched open and the droning screams of the masses filled her ears. The people were bloodthirsty for a fight, enchanted by the adrenaline that would pour out of them while they would fight for their lives. This was all just a game nothing else and Noora intended to win it this time.

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