Nena Ann Boelter (english books to improve english .TXT) 📖

After a moment of consideration, her father shrugged. “I suppose he is right—in a way. But it is no different than if he was lion and you were wolf. Both are fierce powerful hunters, yet they are not compatible.” He dismissed the idea without another thought. “What else did he say?”

Nena’s troubled frown returned.

“He said he would match himself against any Teclan warrior to prove it.”

“He would be killed, of course,” her father said with no hesitation.

“Perhaps, but he is also a great warrior. His people say he is favored by their gods.”

“Maybe that is the answer, then.”

“What?” Nena felt sick.

“If his gods truly favor him, and he is willing to fight to prove it, then fight he shall.”

“Who?” Nena whispered. She prayed her father would say Baldor. Baldor had taken credit for Jarl’s capture. Baldor was their largest warrior and an impressive fighter, but Nena knew Jarl could defeat him. Jarl had defeated Tryggr, who would make even Baldor look small. She willed the name Baldor to be the next word that passed through her father’s lips.

“Lothor, of course,” he said. “He is your only remaining brother, and he longs for such an opportunity to avenge Ruga. Perhaps this will finally satisfy the blood-lust that fills him.”

Her father never considered, even briefly, that Lothor could lose. He was undefeated. But so was Jarl, as far as she knew. Not that any of that mattered now. Only one would remain undefeated after this match because only one would still be alive. It would be a fight to the death.

NENA LEFT THE Meadow of the Idols and made her way to the horses, seeking solace from her tormented thoughts in the mare’s warm energy. She buried her face in the horse’s thick mane, inhaling the warm earthy horse scent. She could feel the animal’s steady strength, but it was not enough this time to calm her.

She needed to force the chaotic thoughts from her mind. She didn’t have time to sort through them now or to try to determine the true root of her feelings. She had to focus on saving his life. The answers to all of her questions were irrelevant anyway, as her father had pointed out. She was Teclan. Jarl was Northman. Lion and wolf. Equals but enemies. They could never be together. She had to accept that and instead address the impending predicament that faced them.

She could not allow Jarl to be killed. And she could not allow him to kill her brother. This trial by combat could not happen. She must find a way to free him and spirit him away back to his troops. The Northmen had not been able to find a way in, but Nena knew where the weaknesses in the Teclan defenses lay. She knew every hidden game trail—where every sentry was located. She could get him out safely.

There would be punishment of course. Anyone so blatantly defying the chief’s direct order, even his daughter, would be punished, but she could take it. She was strong. She was the daughter of Meln. There would be a physical penalty, and then most likely a period of shaming, but that would pass. She would survive. If Jarl remained here—either he, or her brother, would not.

The one glaring flaw in her plan soon became apparent. Assuming she could convince Jarl to escape in the first place, something that was far from guaranteed, what good would it do? He had made it clear he was here by choice. He would not stay away. After she was punished, she would never be allowed in a position to help him a second time. They would end up right back here where they started. It would all be for naught.

She had to find another way.

“Nena, I would have words.” Gentok’s voice surprised her. It was the second time in one afternoon that her thoughts had so consumed her, she had allowed herself to be approached unaware.

“Apologies, Gentok, but I do not have time right now.”

“You seem to have nothing but time—and I insist.”

She was about to protest, but then nodded and waited for him to proceed. His face was agonized as he sought for the right words. She could see how difficult he was struggling to reconcile what he had always known and felt for her, with what he had overheard.

“Just say what you have come to say, Gentok,” she said, resigned.

“You told me you wished to see him, and that he would not harm you because he had saved your life. I assumed he was the one who helped you to escape. I even went so far as to think that maybe that was why he was sent here unarmed—as punishment for helping you. I thought all kinds of things a normal person would think. Then I hear that he is actually the one who held you prisoner? That he is the one the gods chose to be your first? I was just about to step inside the cell to stop you from killing him, but I hesitated—torn between whether to obey your father’s command, or to allow you to have your well-deserved revenge. I was sure that had to be why you had come...until I heard the last part... that you...you...chose him? ...and then continued to lay with him willingly?” The idea of it was clearly so shocking and unbelievable that he still had great difficulty accepting it.

“You listened to us?”

“You made no attempt to lower your voices,” he defended himself. “And trust me, I would prefer not to have heard.”

“Who have you told?”

“I would never betray you,” he said, his voice pained. “I have not shared your words with anyone, nor will I. Not even your father, if you do not wish it. But everyone will know soon enough. The Northman will make sure of it. The only way to keep that from happening is if he is forever silenced. I will kill him for you and make it look