Page 9 of The Heartless Archer

“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’rein lovewith 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 thanher. 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.”

---