Nena by Ann Boelter (digital book reader txt) 📕

first place—but he had never dreamed it would be her who went. And once she had it in her head, there had been no changing her mind. He’d expressed his concerns repeatedly, but she’d dismissed them. She was going, regardless of anything he said, and he was powerless to stop her. Being in such a subordinate and helpless position when it came to making decisions was unfamiliar to him, and it was harder in many ways than the physical shackles.

The creak of the door and the sudden shaft of bright light from outside surprised him. He’d heard no footfalls approaching and no words exchanged with the outside guards. With Nena gone, he expected to do without anything until she returned. He’d been surprised her father had ever agreed for her to be the one to go, and suddenly realized he may have done so to take her away. He squinted, trying to identify the threat, now somehow sure in his gut that there was one. Relief flooded through him to see the form in the doorway was female and she was alone.

She said something to the guard who was seated inside. Jarl could not understand their words, but the guard shook his head declining her request, though he looked away uncomfortably as he did so. The woman said something else, her tone low and even. The guard looked backed at her, his eyes widened slightly with fear. He hesitated, then gave a brief nod and hurried for the door. Jarl’s inner alarms clamored. Who was this woman who was able to do in a few words what Nena, daughter of the chief, had been unable to? And Nena had said only Meln could be alone with him. So had he sent this woman? Is that what she had told the guard? She carried no weapon that he could see, only a tray of food and a small blue jar of ointment. He eyed the container warily; the jar Nena always brought with her was brown.

From everything Nena had told him, her brother longed for this match, and Lothor himself had insisted that it be fair, but Jarl realized Meln might not share in that desire. But would he actually send someone to kill him? If he did, both he and Lothor would lose face. Jarl discounted it. Far more likely was that Meln would have someone wound him in some small way, or poison him with something that would hinder him. He would still be able to fight, but the outcome would be assured. Lothor’s victory could be guaranteed without the tribe ever being the wiser.

With that in mind, Jarl realized, the order could just as easily have come from Lothor himself. Perhaps he was not as confident as he professed. Perhaps that was why he had insisted on the delay, to make sure there was time for this to happen. It was genius really. Lothor would win on two fronts. The first for being honorable and fearless by insisting on the delay. The second for being victorious against a powerful enemy. Jarl wondered if the other Northmen prisoners had met their fates in a similar manner.

But why would whoever was behind it, choose a woman? Was that also part of the plan—to allay any suspicions he might have? Though his guard was up, Jarl was still curious about her. Had she volunteered? Had she been hand-picked by Meln or Lothor? Like Nena, she was tall, but her face was wider and her features flatter. She set down the tray and looked him over with distrustful eyes.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“I am Jalla, Nena’s aunt. I have brought ointment for your wounds.” She picked up the unfamiliar blue jar.

“No offense, Jalla, but that would make you Lothor’s aunt, too, so I think I’ll skip the ointment today.”

She set the container back on the tray. “Then I suppose you’ll not want any of the food I brought either?”

“Probably not,” he said.

“As you wish,” she said but did not leave.

“Why are you really here, Jalla?” Jarl asked. “Have you come to kill me?”

She examined him for a long moment, seeming to be debating whether or not to answer him. “I haven’t decided yet,” she answered truthfully. “Nena asked me to come. I accepted her request to finally see the man who so tortured my warrior niece that she still has nightmares every night like a child. I have come to ask with what methods you tortured her, to better help her overcome it. Not knowing what she endured at your hands makes it difficult for me to aid her.”

“Did she tell you I tortured her?” Jarl asked, his tone curious and hurt.

“No. She does not speak of it. A warrior would never speak of such things. Clearly with her circle filled in, you raped her. Did you share her with other Northmen? Were there many?” she asked, and gave him a withering look.

“No. Nothing like that ever happened—I swear to you. I never harmed her, and would never harm her. In fact, I would kill anyone who dared try. It is true she was my captive, but she was never mistreated.”

“Then of what does she dream that makes her cry out in the night?” Jalla accused.

“I don’t know,” Jarl said and frowned, truly disturbed. “Perhaps you should ask her. I care deeply for her. It is why I am here.”

“You cannot possibly think she returns your affection,” Jalla snorted. The idea was clearly ludicrous to her.

“Yes, I do,” Jarl said quietly. “But you should ask her that, too.”

Jalla sat evaluating him as she absorbed his words in silence. “I did come to kill you today,” she admitted. “I was expecting to find a brutish savage monster. You are not what I was expecting,” she conceded. “I will speak to Nena when she returns from delivering the message to your men. But know this, Northman, if I find out you are lying, you will have no need to fear Lothor’s sword.”

“Understood,” Jarl said.

She