Page 15 of The Heartless Archer

“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.

Chapter 8

Noora

The lands were growing worse. The earth was turning to dust, dying agonizingly slow from thirst, dry leaves crunching under sole boots.

A thin crust of ice covered the forest as if to prevent any further breakage of a thin wall. It could be crushed by the force of a step.

Noora knew she would not shoot anything big in the currents of the storm. The rain was too heavy, thunder booming over her head as she slung the hawk over her shoulder.

He was on the thin side and she knew van Dijk wouldn’t spare her enough, so she made her way to an inn, located at the back of town.

She would rather go back to the orphanage, knowing that the thunder made Lulva uneasy.

But it was too important to take the gold, the earlier she took it, the sooner she could get out of this godsforsaken land with her.

The soles of her boots sunk into the earth, the rain transforming the ground into a muddy mess and staining the bottoms of her trousers like dried blood. She left smears along the steps that lead up to the inn, the door creaking as she stepped into the lively warmth of it.

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