Nena by Ann Boelter (digital book reader txt) 📕

while his attention was on the clasp. His wavy brown hair, the color of dark clay, fell forward as he bent his head down. There was already a dark shadow of beard on his well-defined jaw, though she had watched him shave that morning.

“Jarl,” she said.

He looked up and met her gaze, his eyes the mixed colors of contentment.

“Gratitude,” she murmured.

She seemed almost disturbed to say the word, but clearly meant it. For Jarl it was immeasurable progress. She had never thanked him before, not even for saving her life. Though he was careful not to show it, he was elated.

“You’re welcome. Perhaps we’ll do it again if you would like,” he offered.

“Yes, I would like that very much.”

Altene entered at her last words. Nena wondered how much she had overheard. The way Altene seethed in silence the entire way to the baths, she guessed quite a bit, but couldn’t be sure; she’d already been angry after their return. Once Nena was safely in the water, Altene left. It was something she had never done before.

“Where has Altene gone?” Nena finally asked one of the other women.

The woman looked around nervously, then answered in a whisper in case Altene was still within earshot.

“I do not know. She was very upset that you and Lord Jarl went riding.”

“Upset angry or upset sad?”

“Again I don’t know. I would imagine both.”

Altene returned as they were finishing and stood silently surveying them from the doorway. When they were ready, she turned on her heel and strode off without waiting to see that they followed.

“Where did you go?” Nena called to her.

“None of your concern; I was busy,” Altene snapped haughtily without slowing.

“Were you busy out riding horses with Jarl?” Nena heard several of the women behind her gasp.

Altene stiffened and stopped, then turned back the few paces to confront Nena, face to face. “Be careful, Princess,” she warned.

Nena ignored the threat and referred to her own question. “You know you were not,” she whispered so the other women could not hear. “He is losing interest in you. Help me to get free. Now, before it’s too late for you. You know where the child is kept. You have run of everything. You could arrange it. Bring her to me. We will slip away, and you can have your Northman back.”

Altene glared at her, then turned on her heel and continued toward Jarl’s tent without looking back.

The evening meal had already been delivered by the time the women returned from the baths. Jarl was in a good mood and offered for Altene to stay and eat, oblivious to the tension between the two women. Altene’s mood improved at the invitation and even more as the meal went on. Soon she was chatting with Jarl about Dor customs again. Nena remained silent.

They were almost finished when Jarl asked Altene, “How is it that you have never had a child? Are you barren?”

“No, my lord. I take an herb that keeps the seed from taking hold in me. Once I stop, I can become pregnant. Perhaps, I could quit taking it now and give you a strong son.”

Jarl almost choked. Nena watched as he struggled for words. “A crying babe is the last thing I need right now,” he finally managed to say.

“What he really means is that he wants no son from a whore. No man would want that,” Nena scoffed.

For the first time Nena’s barb hit a nerve, and the normally thick-skinned Altene winced, her eyes welling briefly before she regained her composure.

Jarl swore under his breath and slammed his fork to the table. His eyes flashed with anger at Nena, but she returned his stare coolly.

“Give her back to Tryggr, my lord.” Altene pleaded in a rush. “He is healed now, and she vexes you constantly. And she was his by first claim.”

“Enough! The two of you,” he shouted. He turned to Altene and lowered his voice. “She is mine now. Do not speak of it again.”

Sleep would not come to Nena that night. The contradicting events of the day had left her feelings jumbled in confusion. Her captor had released her from all restraints. She’d been free, though not free. Had felt a horse beneath her, though not much of a horse. And Jarl—away from camp he had been so different, so relaxed. He’d seemed much younger and more...handsome. There was nothing wrong with admitting it. It was a simple fact, no more significant than his hair was brown or that he was tall. Jarl was handsome. It didn’t change anything. And neither did his incredibly thoughtful act. Or did it? Even now the sense of pure enjoyment she had felt on the ride still filled her, and her thoughts toward him were softened.

You must not dwell on that. You must escape. You are running out of time.

She thought back to his maps. Only two villages remained after they were finished here. Not only did her aunt’s life hang in the balance, but if she were unable to escape by the time they met the ships at port, her own prospects were frightful. Jarl had given no recent indication that he intended to ransom her, and she doubted she would be sold as a slave. That only left being loaded onto a ship bound for the North, a place by all accounts, that even the gods forsake in winter.

That could not happen. Altene was the key. Nena’s previous appeals to Altene’s sympathy had fallen on deaf ears, but today she had changed tactics and had seen the first favorable results. She had pushed Altene and would keep pushing her. A desperate Altene might be willing to take a risk the complacent Altene would not. Though Nena had said the words of Jarl losing interest in her as a jab, there was much truth in them, and Altene had to know it. If she had not resumed her place with Jarl by time they reached the port, her future was