Nena by Ann Boelter (digital book reader txt) 📕

draped a thin rabbit hide over the tray to keep the flies from the food while she was gone. Without another word to Jalla, she left the tent. Dread dogged her every step to the council. What if her father announced it was to be today?

By the time she arrived, her father had already made his announcement, and though Lothor was eager to avenge Ruga’s death, he stood on the dais and insisted the fight be postponed until the Northman was healthy. When he killed him, and Lothor was sure of that result, he wanted no smirch on his victory, no whisper, no doubt. The cloud of bitter rage seemed to have lifted from him completely, and he appeared to have regained the restraint that would make him a great chief one day. The fight was scheduled for the next new moon, one week hence.

Nena left without hearing anything more and returned to Jalla’s tent to finish packing the tray. She was ecstatic with the decision, though she told herself it was only because it gave her more time to figure out some other way to prevent the trial completely.

Her step light, she made her way back to the cell. She was surprised to find two guards stationed outside the door now. She took a deep breath, fully expecting trouble, but both nodded at her, and one even moved to hold open the door. Pleasantly surprised at not having to do battle, she nodded back and stepped inside. She was shocked to find a third guard inside seated at the table.

“I will watch him now. You may go and have a break.” Nena said to him in Dor as she set the tray on the table.

He shook his head. “My orders are to remain.”

“I’m sure your orders were to make sure the prisoner was watched at all times. I am here and will do that now. You may go.” She used her most imperious tone.

The guard looked uncomfortable but again shook his head. “My orders were clear,” he said with stubborn determination. “I am to remain inside at all times, even when someone else comes to speak with the prisoner or to care for him. Though why we waste valuable food on him is beyond me,” he muttered. “If anyone insists on anything different, I am to send word to Meln and hear back from him before leaving my post. The only one able to rescind the order is Chief Meln himself.”

“Did my father give you those orders?” Nena asked, curious.

“No.”

“Then who?” she asked, though she knew.

“Gentok.”

“So you mean only my father and Gentok can rescind it.”

“No, Gentok was very clear on that. No one, not even he, himself, is to be allowed time alone with the prisoner.

Nena scowled and turned away.

“What did he say?” Jarl asked as Nena brought him the waterskin, and the guard resumed his seat.

“He said that his orders are to allow no one private access to you.”

“Concern for my safety, I’m sure.”

Nena looked up to correct him, but saw the indents in his cheeks and the hint of a smile on his lips. He was teasing her, something she had never quite grown used to—the Northman way of saying one thing but meaning another. “Yes, I’m sure that’s it,” she agreed instead, hiding her own smile and relishing the comfortable feel of their secret communication.

“You just missed your brother,” Jarl said.

“Lothor was here?”

Jarl nodded.

“What did he want?”

“To tell me personally that he is delaying the trial to make sure that I am healthy and fully returned to form when he kills me. He wants to make sure there are no rumors later that he defeated an injured man. He also said there are Northern swords I will be allowed to choose from—left behind by your previous captives, apparently—or I can choose a Teclan sword. And that there is no Northern armor that will fit me, so that will have to be Teclan, but he will make sure suitable armor is provided. He doesn’t want me to die too quickly.” Jarl smiled. “He’s very serious, isn’t he?”

“As you should be, too.”

“Don’t worry, when the time comes, I will be sure of purpose,” he said darkly. “Though I see no reason to wait so long.”

Nena was exasperated. Her brother’s eagerness she understood, but Jarl could barely sit up without becoming dizzy. And what did he think would happen if he won? Did he think that his past transgressions would be wiped clean, and he would suddenly be accepted and welcomed by the tribe? Nena didn’t even know what would happen. There was no precedent, and if there had been, there was never a captive who wanted anything more than their life and their freedom. Upon victory, they would not have hesitated to leave. Jarl did not want that, nor would he accept it. Her father had given no specifics on that count. She was sure it was because he had no doubt of Lothor’s triumph. But what if Jarl won? What if he killed her brother? Jarl’s life would be spared, that much was certain, but what would happen after that when he refused to go?

“Do not fear for me, Princess,” Jarl said, misunderstanding her troubled pondering. “I have fought the gods for you and pulled you back from the afterlife. I do not fear one man.”

Nena did not respond. If it were only one man, she might agree with him, but it was Lothor.

“And I told you before, there has never been anything in my life that I wanted that I could not win. I only wish there was some way to do so now that did not come at the expense of your brother’s life.”

Even as he said it, Nena could see he was glad for the opportunity to prove himself—to her people, to her, to himself. He had no reservations and seemed to welcome the test of himself as a man. He was clearly confident he would pass it.

“But with this delay, I must