Nena by Ann Boelter (digital book reader txt) 📕

like he died of his injuries from Baldor—that his wounds were more severe than first thought.”

“No! You must not. Swear to me now, you will not harm him,” Nena insisted.

“Nena?”

“Swear it to me.”

“I will swear it only if you will swear to me that you will not do something stupid—not try to help him escape or whatever other ideas you are thinking.”

She looked at him blankly. Could he read her mind now? “You heard his words,” she murmured without agreeing. “Aiding his escape would do no good; he would only return.”

“That is my price, Nena. Agree to it, or I will go back and finish him now,” Gentok threatened.

Nena hesitated, then nodded. “I swear.”

“As do I.” He took a deep breath and then let out a long slow exhale. “But if he remains and speaks as he says he will, the others will not understand. You must know that. I, who care for you—who have only ever wanted to be with you, am struggling to do so and cannot. They will shun you. He is a Northman,” he spat, his voice thick with disgust, unable to see Jarl as anything other than a man-beast.

Nena knew he was right about the tribe’s response. She thought of Lothor’s reaction—her own blood, and he had only suspected she had willingly lain with the enemy. When Jarl was given the opportunity to speak, they all would know.

“But there is another solution,” Gentok continued. “Choose me now. Our union will protect you from any doubts the Northman’s words will raise with the tribe. If we are married, his words will fall on deaf ears; no one will believe him. Your reputation will remain intact.” His voice softened. “And knowing the truth changes nothing for me. I said I would be waiting for you, and I meant it.”

When she did not agree right away, he stared at her, incredulous. “You cannot possibly be swayed by his honeyed words,” he said, his voice laced with disgust again. “Even if he speaks the truth—you are Teclan. He is Northman. There is no possible future for you together.” He echoed her father’s words. “You know that. Deep down you knew it all along, and that’s why you escaped him to return home. Your life and your future are here with your people. With me.”

He was right. About everything. No one would listen to Jarl or doubt her if she and Gentok were married. And Gentok was a good man. She should just say the words that she had been prepared to say that very morning. The words she knew he had always longed to hear and desperately awaited now.

“Gentok, your understanding and concern is more than I deserve, and means more to me than I can express, but I will not choose until this is over.”

Gentok leaned back on the balls of his feet and exhaled sharply, responding to her words as if they had come in the form of a physical slap.

“But that will not be long, now,” she continued quietly. “My father will announce tomorrow that the Northman is to face Lothor in single combat. Many things will be settled then, for good.”

After taking a moment to process the significance of her words, Gentok nodded and seemed satisfied. It was clear he also had no doubt of Lothor’s victory.

Nena returned to Jalla’s tent and was thrilled to find it empty. Jalla and Exanthia must be at the baths; she wouldn’t have to explain her actions, but she knew she didn’t have much time before they returned to cook the evening meal. She went straight to Jalla’s shelves and began rifling through the vials and small crocks. She opened a few to smell them, even tasted one with the tip of her finger, before she found the one she was looking for. She grabbed a fresh waterskin, a hunk of leftover bread and a handful of dried salted meat from a net bag hanging in the corner. Throwing everything onto a tray, she took a deep breath and headed back to the cell.

She nodded at the guard who had replaced Gentok outside the door.

“I have brought food for the prisoner,” Nena said and waited, fully prepared to argue with him when he refused her, but the guard only nodded her through. Unlike with Gentok, she doubted she had needed to provide him any explanation at all.

“Are you taking me to see your father now?” Jarl asked as she stepped inside.

“No, he doesn’t need to speak with you after all.”

“Because you told him why I am here?”

“Yes.”

“Was he alone?”

Nena nodded and wondered why he would ask that.

“So he doesn’t want anyone else to hear it and know,” he concluded.

Nena pondered that for a moment. “Perhaps,” she agreed. “My father has decided you will face Lothor in a combat trial.”

“Are there rules?”

“Only to survive.”

He nodded and seemed satisfied. “When?”

“I don’t know. It will be soon.”

He shrugged and seemed unconcerned. “Good.”

Good? How in any way was that good? “If there was a way for you to escape and return to your men, would you take it?” Nena asked him quietly.

“You know I would not.”

“But you are soon to face mortal combat.”

“And consider myself lucky for the opportunity. To be allowed to fight for what I want—to determine my own destiny with a sword in my hand against a single opponent...it is far more than I had dared hope for. You know I would never leave. This is why I came. Perhaps now, I can prove to you, and any who would question it, that I am as worthy—nay, more worthy of you than any Teclan warrior.” He paused. “What did your father say when you told him why I was here?”

“That we are lion and wolf.”

Jarl’s forehead furrowed.

Nena recognized the look and knew he was puzzled. “Both are fierce and strong, but they are not compatible,” she explained, then changed the subject. “I brought ointment. It will ease the pain and swelling in your head.”

He nodded and she picked