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Heavens, she looked beautiful. He always knew that Noora was objectively an attractive girl but having her fight with him with that familiar fire blazing in her eyes was striking him to his bones. Her body moved elegantly, so effortlessly as she attacked with every strike. It was world-changing, to say the least.

“I cannot believe that I got worried over nothing!” Tyra exclaimed as Marid finally stepped into the room.

“Your mother sent me to make sure you did not get yourself killed,” she said.

Nikolai raised one brow. “Wouldn’t that play right into her cards?”

Marid rolled her eyes gently. “Do not speak of such things, Kai.” She walked over and pulled him into a gentle embrace. Marid Winter was by far the most advanced hugger at the royal court. Even when he was little and fell off his horse one time, scraping his knees open in the process, she was the one to find him with tear-stained cheeks. She consoled him until the ever-flowing waterfall stopped and wove her hand through his hair.

She was one to advocate crying, showing emotion was not a weakness in her opinion. She was quite the opposite of both his parents.

Despite her surname, Marid was the gentlest and warmest person Nikolai had come across.

Even now he found himself enjoying her hug, she always smelled like pine and burnt logs.

“Do not coddle him, Marid, or else he will turn unbearable,” Tyra exclaimed and let herself fall onto theunoccupied bed of Noora—who was suddenly gone, Nikolai noticed—with a sigh.

“I do need coddling.” Nikolai could not keep the disappointed tone out of his voice at the loss of Noora´s presence.

Marid drew back, her cold hands cradling his cheeks. Small wrinkles had formed at the sides of her eyes but it did nothing to her beauty. Marid Winter was always a beautiful woman and age only advanced on that fact. Nikolai often found himself wondering if Amalie would have looked the same when she turned thirty, smiling at him with gentle crow’s feet as she held his hand over the throne chairs.

“My poor son, you look like death has its grasp on you,” Marid said, her hands pushing his blonde strands out of his eyes.

He certainly felt like death took hold of him. His limbs were aching, especially his stitched-up side, his eyes burned and his throat felt raw and dry.

“Are you saying I am not handsome?”

Marid’s lips turned into a small smile, shaking her head. “You are as handsome as ever.”

She let go of him and sat down at the edge of his brittle, folding her hands neatly over her pale gown.

“Tyra?”

His sister looked at him expectantly and though he knew her concern was genuine he wanted to talk to Marid on his own. He indeed did need coddling today, he felt miserable and to bathe in one’s misery was not something his sister should be burdened to see.

“Would you look after Noora for me? She was hurt in the process of our sparring and I still feel bad for being so thoughtless.”

Tyra rolled her eyes but got up dramatically. “One day you’re going to get yourself killed over your stupidity.”

Nikolai had to smile at her words as he watched her saunter out of the room. “I am glad you are alive, brother.” Her last words.

Marid was left in the room and they hovered in silence, the air growing stale with the lack of words exchanged.

“Say it,” Nikolai said.

Marid turned her head to him, small crinkles forming around her kind eyes. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I am too old for you to fool me anymore.” He tilted his head at her and Marid’s shoulders sunk, revealing her true emotions. It was a rare sight to see her smiling nowadays, she was always surrounded by a melancholy gray cloud as if it was knitted to her soul.

“When I first saw her during the announcement in town, I thought she was Amalie.”

Nikolai nodded.

“I did too.”

They had the same pale hair, the same hair Marid had, long and shiny, a face so dainty, drawn into cruel lines. Though it was common for the northern witches to have white or generally special hair.

“But it is not her,” Nikolai added.