Nena by Ann Boelter (digital book reader txt) 📕

He was beyond disappointed. Her unexpected tenderness that morning had dangerously filled his thoughts all day with distraction, and he needed her now. She must be bathing. He unbuckled his armor, shrugged it off, and piled it in the corner. He paced the tent for a few moments, waiting for her to return, then went to find her in the baths.

Women shrieked and hurried to cover themselves as he barged in. Nena was not among them. Jarl felt the first fingers of unease begin to tighten around his gut. He returned quickly to his tent and sent for Altene. She arrived in a flash, wearing a low cut pale green dress of soft swirling silk.

“Where is Nena?” he asked.

“I have not seen her, my lord. Would you like me to pleasure you?” Altene offered with a sensual smile, her lips remaining parted.

“No. I want to find Nena. What do you mean you haven’t seen her? Where is she?”

“I truly do not know, my lord.” Altene bowed her head and waited while Jarl threw open the tent flap and stepped outside to question the guard. She couldn’t make out the words, but heard the fear in the guard’s voice as he relayed something to Jarl.

“And how long ago was that?” Jarl asked, his words very clear and very loud.

The guard mumbled something in reply, and Altene heard Jarl swear. She waited for him to reenter but after a few minutes realized he was gone. She settled down to wait for him with a smile on her lips, her fingers caressing the soft furs. He’d be back soon enough.

Jarl strode through the camp toward the prisoner compound. He fought the urge to run. The first of the new prisoners were just arriving and being processed. No one noticed Jarl in the midst of the hubbub. He made his way directly to the child’s tent. The child who he had ordered guarded for so long—until Nena had chosen him and there no longer appeared to be a need.

The mother sat staring at the remains of a dead fire. She did not look up, even as he approached. Jarl swept open the tent flap and searched inside for the girl, but there was no sign of her, as deep down he had feared and known there wouldn’t be. “Where is she?” he demanded. Only then did the broken woman raise her eyes to meet his. The grief he saw there was all the answer he needed.

Jarl did run now. An injured guard sauntering along the row of empty pens, snapped to attention on his arrival. “Sir,” he said.

Jarl’s eyes scanned the mare’s empty pen. “Where is the gray mare?” he asked.

“The mare?” The guard looked at the empty pen. “Well…uh…I don’t know. She was just there. I mean, before the other horses got out, and I had to go help round them up, she was there.”

“Was Nena,” Jarl began, then stopped. “Was a Dor woman here?”

“Yes,” the guard stuttered. “She came with a girl to brush the horse earlier today.” Seeing the rage on Jarl’s face he added, “but they left well before the other horses got loose. The mare was still there then; I’m sure of it.”

Jarl’s quick perusal of the guard led him to the same conclusion Nena had reached earlier; the man would have been no match for her. If she could take Tryggr’s knife from him and cut off part of his ear, this man would have offered her little challenge. But none of that mattered to him. Better that he had found him dead and known that he had at least made an attempt to stop her, than to find him here now. He grabbed the man by his throat, furious with him for lying, and for letting her escape—wanting nothing more than to kill him himself. The man gurgled and thrashed in his grip. After a moment Jarl released him and shoved him away. The guard cowered on the ground, holding his throat and gasping for air.

Jarl reined in his fury. “Find both Tryggr and Gunnar and send them to my tent. Make that the fastest thing you have ever done,” he commanded. The guard sprang to his feet and ran, showing no evidence of the injury that had kept him from being able to fight earlier that day.

“You knew this was going to happen,” Jarl accused Altene as he reentered the tent.

“What has happened, my lord?” she asked, her eyes wide.

“Don’t play stupid with me.” Jarl grabbed her by both arms and shook her. “Nena is gone and you knew this would happen.”

“No, my lord,” she denied. “I thought being bloodsworn to the child would keep her here, and it did.”

“The child is gone, too, but I’m sure you already knew that as well. Now, tell me what you know,” he threatened, his voice low and his grip still painfully tight on her arm.

“You’re hurting me,” Altene whined.

“It is nothing compared to what I will do to you if I’m unsatisfied with your answers. Do you understand me? Where is she?”

“I know nothing,” Altene repeated. “She begged me many times to release her—from the first day you brought her, but I would never cross you. Then when she filled in her circle, she quit asking and I did not worry.”

Jarl continued to stare at her unsatisfied. “You know something. I can see it in your eyes.”

Altene was desperate. She had expected him to be upset about Nena’s absence, but had never expected his reaction to be this violent, or to have his temper directed at her. She had planned all day on how best to console him. Perhaps it was the battle fever. Whatever it was, it had Altene scrambling for something to tell him that would diffuse his rage. She latched onto the first idea that came to her frantic mind.

“She came to me yesterday and mentioned her moon blood was late. She was worried she was pregnant.” It wasn’t a complete lie. They