Nena by Ann Boelter (digital book reader txt) 📕

But that couldn’t be. She had spent the last days convincing herself of her foolishness for harboring such thoughts. She was loathe to go there again. But it was the only explanation. He had not come for the treasure. He had come for her. In a move as bold as fighting the gods for her when she was dying, he had come for her!

Knowing the why also made the how of his presence crystal clear to her. She knew him. He had probed their defenses and had run out of time as she had known he would. When he could find no acceptably safe way in, he had not risked the lives of his men. She felt his eyes on her—felt her body respond to his presence, even with the distance that separated them and the humbling position he was in. She reveled in the feel of the connection between them—until Baldor clubbed him to the floor.

It took all of Nena’s training and self control to deny the sudden protective rage that engulfed her. To not scream and fly across the room and rip the club from Baldor’s hands before using it to bash his head in. Jarl lay unmoving on the floor. Was he dead? Nena wanted to run to him, but knew she dare not. The rush of mixed emotions, so strong and unexpected, left her shaken and confused. But one thing she remained sure of. To every other soul in this room, Jarl was their enemy—possibly their worst enemy. To show anything but coldness toward him now would be unacceptable and dangerous for them both.

“That will teach you not to lay your lustful eyes on her, northern dog,” Baldor gloated.

For many seconds, Jarl could not move. Altene’s words echoed in his mind. “The Teclan respect bravery and courage above all else. Show no fear.” He struggled to get back to his knees, the pain in his head having long since replaced any fear he might have had. Nena had turned from her father and was looking at Club now.

“And to which warrior goes the honor of such a bold capture?” she asked.

“It was I,” crowed Club.

“It must be a great warrior’s tale to have avoided all sentries in the dead of night and returned unscathed with a Northman prisoner. It had to have been in the dead of night, was it not? That is, of course, the only time he would have been without weapons and wearing no armor. Did you sneak past their guards and put a knife to his throat as he slept, or did you kill them first?” Nena challenged, knowing it was neither.

“No. The coward surrendered himself to me.” Baldor turned to the crowd and tried to win them back. “He saw how fearful we were and surrendered without a fight.”

“He left his camp and surrendered to you, with no weapons and wearing no armor? What a great feat. Hopefully it wasn’t too difficult for you. You must be sure to mark that on your arm.” Nena turned back to her father, satisfied she had discredited him and knowing that would hurt him as much as any physical blow she could have delivered. “What is it my father asks of me?” Nena asked, bowing her head slightly, while the crowd snickered and Baldor gurgled with rage.

“Perhaps his capture was not worthy of recording, but his death will be!” Baldor shouted.

Nena spun back in time to see Baldor raise his club for the final blow. Her words had so incited him, Baldor was going to kill Jarl!

“Stop, Baldor!” She heard her father command, but it was too late; Baldor’s club had already begun its descent. Nena could only watch with helpless horrified dread as the club reached the back of Jarl’s neck. A blur tackled Baldor in mid body. The club still struck, but was deflected and did not hit with full force. Jarl fell limp as Baldor and his attacker tumbled to the dirt floor.

The tent erupted in chaos. Jarl remained still.

“How dare you!” Lothor raged from on top of Baldor, his dagger blade held tight against Baldor’s throat. “How dare you try to steal my rightful honor? I could kill you for the insult.”

Nena prayed he would do it. Prayed he would do what she wanted so desperately to do, but could not.

“Enough!” Meln roared as he stood and pounded the dais with his staff. “You will cease this madness immediately!” His entire face was beet red, and his fresh scars now had a purplish hue. “Anyone who cannot conduct themselves with honor will lose the privilege to be here. Do I make myself clear?” Meln shouted.

The room grew eerily quiet as all faces turned to him. Lothor withdrew the blade from Baldor’s neck and both men stood. Meln looked around the council tent, meeting the eyes of each member for emphasis, then took a deep breath to compose himself before resuming his seat. “Does the Northman yet live?” he asked.

Before anyone else could respond, Nena sprang to Jarl’s side and felt his neck for a pulse. His heart still beat, even and strong.

“Yes, Father,” she said, trying to disguise her relief.

“Take him to the cell and guard him closely,” Meln commanded. “Not you,” he said to Nena as he saw her preparing to ask others for aid. “Not any of you three.” He waved to Lothor and Baldor.

Gentok stepped forward and knelt across from her, preparing to grip Jarl’s shoulder. When Nena did not vacate his other side for someone else to do the same, their eyes met and locked over Jarl’s prone body. Gentok’s gaze was curious as he studied her. Nena stood and stepped aside, wondering what he had seen. Everything had happened so fast. Her feelings were so tumultuous and confused, she had no idea what her eyes had revealed to him. She watched as Jarl was lifted by his shoulders between the two men, then dragged from the