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Noora scoffed as Kekoa slapped the sword out of Sören’s hand again. “Lately I’ve been thinking that Oy Frossen has something against anyone that doesn’t fit their standards,“ she said, remembering the way the queen talked to her and the familiar slur she had used.

“I cannot believe my eyes.” A voice calls out in the courtyard, making every participant—and Koa-Ailani— turn their heads towards the steps that lead out of the palace and towards the palace gardens.

Skipping down the steps happily, dressed in black trousers and an impeccable dark blue peacoat with golden ornaments stitched onto it, was the king, directing his words toward the gathered crowd.

“Here I thought the contestants would use the grand courtyard to improve their skills in fighting but what I see is the two of you babbling away like old spinsters.” A mischievous glint shone in his eyes as he trained his gaze on Noora and Pika.

“Your Majesty.” Pika bowed. “We have just finished our round and I can say with a great conscience that Noora has improved very much in her skills.”

“Has she indeed,” Nikolai said, his eyes flitting towards Noora who raised her chin stubbornly.

“Don’t sound too happy,“ she snapped and somehow his lips tilted upwards at her rough tone.

He strode over to them, his walk confident just with a tinge of laziness in it, though something felt off about it.

“Why don’t you show me, love, how much you’ve improved?” He gestured over to Pika’s sword. “May I?”

Noora flinched at the way he called her.

“Of course!” Pika quickly got out of the way while Nikolai slowly peeled himself out of his peacoat. He discarded it on the frozen grass without a care.

“I think I’m too exhausted to fight again,” Noora said, somehow there was an inner voice inside her that told her how much of a bad idea it was to fight against the king.

“Don’t be shy, let’s see what you’ve got.”

Revealing a black crumbled shirt, he picked up Pika’s sword and got into stance.

“Nikolai, I don’t think that’s—”

“Pick the sword up, Noora,” Nikolai interrupted her, his voice dropping a few octaves.

Despite her worries, she picked up the weapon ready to get in stance but Nikolai was already lunging at her.

“Hey!” she yelled as she barely parried his strike. “That’s not fair, I was not ready!” she yelled as he continued to advance on her, drawing her backward with every hit. Noora caught off guard, stumbled like a child trying its first steps as she barely managed not to end up as minced meat.

“You always have to be ready,” Nikolai said as their blades collided, so loud it felt like the sound mimicked thunder.

A concentrated look marred his features, his eyes rid of the usual pale colour, his whole body tight like a bow.

Annoyance made its way into Noora’s bloodstream and with a few steps she corrected her stance and started to attack.

Her strikes came quick and precise; she slashed at him before spinning and turning her movement into a stab. Though no matter how hard she tried, Nikolai was always one step ahead, deflecting her hits before parrying.

Sweat trickled down her back as Noora’s hand started to cramp around the hilt of her sword. Her body was screaming in exhaustion but Nikolai was not letting her go.

They travelled through the courtyard still fighting until their feet hit the grass.

Noora rolled behind a rose bush just as Nikolai chopped downward at her, his gaze blazing.

“What are you doing?” Noora snapped quietly so the others wouldn’t hear.

“Fighting,” Nikolai stated before Noora got up and blocked his next hit.

This time when she slashed at him Nikolai was too slow. The blade of her sword got him on his left side, sliding over his skin superficially.

Shocked, Noora stumbled over a vase filled with hydrangeas and her back hit the grass.

“Hel,” she cursed, her head throbbing as it collided with the ground.