Page 35 of The Heartless Archer

Chapter 15

Noora

“Come, on!” Lulva pulled at Noora’s wrist with a surprising amount of strength, a gangly ten-year-old should not carry in her arms. Nonetheless, Noora followed her through the growing crowd in the village, dodging frowning adults that cursed after them or spit onto the ground.

A mixture of voices and even different languages carried an enticing melody around both of the girls, enveloping them in the familiarity of their village as Lulva pulled them deeper and deeper into the mess.

“Slow down, would you?” Noora called after her, as her hand slipped out of the smaller girl’s, and her red unkempt hair disappeared behind a man cloaked in black.

Noora cursed quietly while elbowing her way through the humans, to find where Lulva disappeared to.

The air was buzzing with excitement as there were only a few minutes left until the queen would grace their presence and the contestants were drawn for the upcoming tournament.

The crowd got denser the closer Noora got to the podium, currently only occupied by the vessel, spilling with various yellow-toned parchment and three enormous throne chairs.

The one in the middle was the tallest, the royal coat of arms built out of gold and woven around the rest, shining as the sun finally reached its zenith.

The other two chairs looked far less exciting, made of silver edges and green lining. She wondered who had the honour of carrying them over, all the way from the palace.

A glimpse of red hair appeared in front of Noora and she quickly dove through a small gap between a red-cheeked lady.

Somehow Noora stumbled over a boot and her elbows knocked into a rib and what she assumed was a liver.

“Hey! Watch where you go, you half-breed scum,” a man yelled at her, his yellow teeth crooked as he bared them at Noora.

Her gaze roved over him for a moment, stuck on the heavy ax attached to his leather belt. A few red specks clung to the blade and Noora guessed him to be a butcher.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, disappearing to the front, finally reaching Lulva.

Noora knew when to pick her battles and this was not one.

“Where did you go?” Lulva asked as she jumped up and down excitedly, trying to see past the royal guards that were surrounding the podium containing the vessel. They were heavily armed for the fact that they were currently guarding a glass ball, with nothing but scribbled names on paper in it.

“What do you mean where did I go? You let go of my hand, Freckles, don’t ever do that again,” Noora warned the younger girl.

Lulva looked at her, her eyes growing round. “I’m sorry I am just so excited to see the princess, do you think the prince will be with her? Or maybe the queen? Oh, I hope their dresses will be beautiful,” she raved, clutching her hands to her chest.

Noora kept from rolling her eyes as she tucked Lulva to her front, one hand resting on her shoulder, just to be sure she would not disappear again.

The mumbling of the crowd grew louder as a strange feeling grew in Noora’s stomach.

She let her eyes wander over the bustling people, her gut telling her that something was wrong. But everything seemed normal, no danger was close and she bet that if the crowd got too rowdy, the royal guards would intercede not a second too late.

They were dressed in their typical uniform, their broad chests covered in silver cuirass, matching pauldrons on both theirshoulders. The greaves covering their legs had small engravings in the metal, just as their gauntlets did. Noora could not hold back the small snort passing her lips.

Even their armour had to be extravagant as if it would somehow improve their fighting skills. She wondered how much Gulls were paid for the blacksmith to burn little swirls into the silver.

The faces of the guards were covered by their Corinthian helmets, only the eyes, the window to their souls, were visible.

Noora caught herself searching for a certain pair of jade eyes but quickly scolded herself.

Even if he was here, what was it to her? She could feel the cold weight of his jade ring in her pocket, she did not have the time to sell it after seeing Lukas last night. First thing in the morning she was dragged out of bed by Lulva excited for the announcement.

“It’s starting!” Lulva called giddily as a herald clad in ice blue stockings stepped onto the podium, trumpet in his hand.

His chest constricted as he took a deep breath and blew into the trumped, inflicting a horrific sound.

The crowd grew instantly quiet. There she was.

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