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Accompanied by two guards in front and behind her, the queen ascended the podium, clad in a ruby-red gown. The sweeping skirt touched the ground and she had to hike it up elegantly with her hands to not trip over it while she climbed the wooden stairs.

The bodice was bedazzled by a thousand red rubies, glittering like blood as the sun hit every little crystal. The bodice led up into a high neckline that only stopped under her sharp chin and wove over her straight shoulders, tight sleeves enveloping her arms.

The red colour of the gown contrasted drastically with the queen’s pale skin, her black hair sitting in long waves on her back.

“She looks beautiful,” Lulva whispered.

Noora could only agree as she watched the queen sit down on the tallest chair. She was beautiful, devastatingly so.

But something clung to her that seemed dark. Grief deepened the lines in her face, dragged the corners of her sharp mouth down, and tightened the skin around her green eyes.

She did not look happy to be here.

Both guards positioned themselves at her right and left side, as the other two stood behind her chair, facing the crowd.

It was then that another woman, much younger, maybe Noora’s age, stepped onto the podium.

She was dressed in a gown equally as beautiful as the queen, but it was less sweeping and simpler.

She did not have to hike her skirt up as it hovered just above the ground, its line stitched in silver thread, holding the forest green silk together. She had the same black curls as her mother, her face adorned with the same sharp angles and watchful eyes, though her eyes were the colour of her hair a deep mahogany, Noora could make out the resemblance.

It was the Princess of Oy Frossen.

When she lifted her foot, Noora could glimpse a black combat boot, adorned with silver buckles and a flash of silver.

The princess had a knife shoved into her boot. Noora couldn’t help herself as a smug smile twitched over her lips.

As the princess sat down a last woman stepped onto the podium and Noora frowned.

She was not part of the royal family that was to be sure.

The woman was slender but not in the way the queen was, she looked almost as if she would break any second.

Her hair was long, the colour of snow, reminding Noora of her hair. She was dressed in an ice blue gown, so simple that it told Noora she was not of royal descent. Maybe a family friend who wanted to join the announcement.

Her face was worn in and torn into such a devastating grimace that it struck Noora right in her chest. She had never seen such a sad look on someone’s face, so deeply buried into the soul of a person that it was a part of them, never to be let go again.

And then she met the gaze of the woman.

She seemed to hesitate, almost looking like she was freezing for a moment before she sat down on the last and smallest chair.

“Welcome, welcome. I cannot express the joy I feel to see some of my subjects after all this time,” the queen spoke and her voice sounded exactly like she looked. Sharp, cold, and precise.

The crowd dove into a loud cheer and hooting before Queen Euphemia held up a hand, quieting everyone.

“I do not want to drag this out longer than it has to be. I can imagine how curious the people are, to finally know of the contestants of the tournament my son has decided to hold. I am sorry to say that he was not able to attend this gathering.”

Noora looked at the princess who rolled her eyes at her mother's words before they landed on Noora.

Usually one should look away when meeting the gaze of a royal, it was out of respect, and further was it unacceptable to keep on staring when catching a rebellious act of a royal. But Noora did not look away.

Princess Tyra’s gaze sharpened in on Noora for a moment, while the latter gave her a small nod as if to agree with her eye roll. It was pretentious of the prince to decide to throw a tournament, just for him to not bother to even attend the announcement.

The princess’s lips twitched before her focus was drawn back to her mother.

“There will be four brave contestants, drawn by coincidence, who will live in the safe walls of the palace for thenext weeks, where they are given the privilege to train in the royal rooms.”

The crowd broke out into small surprised whispers at that.