Ensnared (Knights of Brethren #3)(48)

Somewhere behind me, I heard Mikaela again. And it was clear she was speaking with the jotunn.

“I have an offer for you,” she called.

“Who are you?” the jotunn demanded in a hollow, almost childlike voice.

“My name is Mikaela, and I want to make an exchange for Sven.”

I started to release a yell of protest, but Sven shoved my face back into the ground, cutting off the sound. I fought against him again, my pulse pounding with renewed urgency.

“Stop.” Sven spoke quietly in my ear. “I will never let her exchange herself for me. I vow it.”

The sincerity in my great uncle’s whisper brought my frantic protest to a halt.

“She is providing you with the much-needed time to get away. When I release you, I want you to take your servant and run.”

I shook my head. “I’ll never leave without her.”

“You cannot let her distraction be for naught.” More protest crowded for release, but Sven continued before I could speak it. “Once you have a fair start, I shall step in and force Mikaela to go.”

I didn’t know if I could make myself move forward without her.

“This is the only way.” Sven’s voice was harsh. “With your injury and with the weight of the servant, you will never escape from the jotunn without a sizeable lead.”

“I can’t.”

“You must.”

I could see the logic behind the plan. But could I truly trust that he would make sure Mikaela didn’t come to harm?

“Let me do this.” His tone was laced with a plea. “I have had to stand helplessly by and watch people suffer for too many years. I need to do this now. Please.”

I was wasting precious time fighting with Sven, time I could be using to make my getaway with Frans. The logical part of me knew I had to go. But my heart was ripping from my chest at the prospect of leaving Mikaela behind to an unknown fate.

“There have only been a few women who have come into the forest in the time I’ve lived here. The jotunn becomes addled at the merest sight of a fair maiden, even from afar, and cannot think clearly.”

“What if he curses her?” I had only to think about Queen Lis suffering from a bleeding curse and her mother dying from the same to know that curses were real and deadly. Was it possible the royal family curse had come from a jotunn?

“I shall ensure she is gone before he has the chance to speak a curse.”

I lifted a plea heavenward for help, then nodded. “Very well. I’ll leave with Frans. But if she isn’t out of the forest by the time the moon crests overhead in the sky, I’ll return and fight for her.”

“She will follow. I shall make sure of it.”

Drawing in a deep breath, I pushed against Sven. This time he loosened his grip and released me.

For a fraction of an instant as I rose, I debated defying him and racing back toward the jotunn and Mikaela. But from the calmness of the conversation the two were having, I sensed Sven was right, that the jotunn wouldn’t harm her.

“You’ll make sure she is safe on her way out?”

“You have my word.”

Mikaela’s torch gave enough illumination to outline the trail I’d cut. Once I reached the boundary of her light, I’d have to stop, use my flint, and make fire for a torch of my own so that I didn’t fall into another deadly trap.

“Go now.” Sven directed me toward the litter with Frans.

Once more I hesitated, regretting I couldn’t help him get away. My only hope was to discuss the situation with Maxim and Princess Elinor. Maybe they would have suggestions for how to overcome the jotunn’s curse. Then when I returned to Hardanger Forest for the chalice, I’d be able to assist him.

“You must never come back into the forest for me,” he whispered as though reading my mind.

I didn’t reply. Instead, I stepped in front of the litter, picked up the two limbs, and began to move down the path, leaving my heart behind with Mikaela.





Chapter

22





Mikaela


I clasped my hands tightly to the torch keep the jotunn from seeing my shaking. I needed him to see me as a maiden who exuded confidence and control.

He’d dropped the thick branch he’d been using to clear a path through the woods. With how large and clumsy he appeared, how did he avoid falling into his own pits and traps?

He stood at least a head above the tallest man I’d ever known and was at least twice the girth. His tunic was a patchwork of material, poorly sewn and threadbare, and his boots were open at the toes, revealing long curled toenails. Scars ran up and down his arms and neck and covered his face. They appeared to be pockmarks of some kind, perhaps from a disease he’d once experienced?

Was he really a jotunn, a legendary troll from the underworld? Or was he another outcast like Sven? A man despised by the world for his outward appearance and sent away to live in solitude?

It didn’t matter what his origin was. Right now, my mission was to protect Gunnar and Frans, and in the process, make an exchange to gain Sven’s freedom.

The jotunn peered down at me, one of his eyes half closed, the other blinking hard against the light from my torch.

I lifted it higher, tossing off my hood and letting the jotunn get a clear view of me.

He cocked his head. “You are pretty, lady.” His voice was almost gentle.