Page 75 of The Heartless Archer

He tipped his head back to look at the ceiling, exposing the slope of his throat. When he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbed, his pale skin shining in the afternoon sun.

“Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?” Noora crossed her arms in front of her as he turned his head to look at her.

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to tell you how you should feel.”

She clenched her jaw at his words.

“This is going nowhere,” he figured,rubbing his hands over his face. For a moment Noora watched him cave in on himself, his shoulders slouching, his head leaning forward as if he wanted to crawl into himself.

Then he took a big breath and straightened himself.

“I respect your wish not to hear an apology, though I can promise that my mother will not dare to treat you like that again, or anyone else. I personally made sure of that.”

Noora tried to school her features when he searched for a reaction on her face. He was not going to get one of her, she would not let him trick her into thinking that he was such a generous, kind person. It was easy to be generous if you had everything you ever wanted in the palm of your hand.

“I brought this for you.” His hand slipped into the pocket of his trousers and took out a small metal tin that Noora would’ve recognised anywhere.

“But I see that you have already taken good care of your wound on your own.” His gaze slipped toward her hand that was out of the gauze.

“Though I hope not, maybe you will need it in the future.” He placed the tin filled with her wonder salve on her bed, before turning and starting to leave the chamber.

Noora bit on her tongue until she could taste the tangy blood gathering, trying to stop herself from saying something. She didn’t owe him anything but she could see how much harder this tournament would have been if he didn’t help, for whatever reasons he did.

“Kai.” She stopped him but he only hovered, turning his head lightly to the side to tell her he was listening.

“Thank you,” she gritted out, the words feeling acidic on her tongue.

Without an answer he left her chamber, the soft clicking of the closing door echoing in the lonely space around her.

Nikolai leaned against the closed door behind him, trying to get his racing heart to quiet down in his chest before it pushed past his skin and landed right in front of Noora’s feet.

He could imagine her disgusted grimace as she observed his heart on the floor, still beating rapidly before she crushed it under her boot, making blood squirt all over the marble floors.

He heard the soft slide of the metal tin opening and before he could listen to any more sounds of her, he strode down the hallway, trying to get to his chamber as fast as possible.

The last days had been Hell on earth, the arrest did go as smoothly as one could go but it was the aftermath that escalated.

He knew that the people in his kingdom were growing wary and frustrated. The harvest was next to nothing due to the dying grounds, the animals did not produce any milk for butter and cheese and winter was coming far too early, encasing the kingdom in ice and frost. He knew what the consequences of his actions were bringing but he somehow was naïve enough to think that he still had time.

Reaching his chambers he threw his doors open, letting them slam closed behind him as he went straight for the sword beside his bed and began to hack at the wooden mannequin resting beside his wardrobe.

The people demanded answers, the crowds pushing in on him, while his soldiers desperately tried to keep them at bay.

And there was nothing Nikolai could tell them to reassure their worries. The land was dying and there was no sight for a cure. His mind flickered to Noora and how she was the first thing he went looking for when he arrived back at the palace. When he couldn’t find her in her chamber he felt an ounce of panic squeeze his lungs, then he heard the soft laughter coming from the bathing chamber. The air was smelling of soap, a small secret of sacrilege. A moment he enjoyed watching, seeing the girls bond with each other.

What he came across was nothing new, Nikolai knew of the tendencies his mother had, regarding etiquette and following rules. As a young boy, he might’ve feared her hand but now that he was king, he was not letting her treat Jo and Tyra that way. They deserved to grow up and have the lives he was never allowed to have.

Sweat trickled down his temples and chunks of wood were flying past him when a voice spoke up.

“She is very pretty, isn’t she?”

He whirled around, sword raised high, the tip of it grazing his opponent’s chin.

“Heavens, Tyra.” He quickly lowered the sword as he recognised his sister. “I could’ve chopped your head off.”

His sister scoffed. “Please, as if I’d let you.”

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