Page 35 of The Warrior
That’s why it had touched me that he had cared enough about me, when I was a girl, to beat up a man for making inappropriate comments about me and my sister.
What Magni didn’t know was that I’d idolized him since that day. April and I had watched the fight and I’d been more than upset when my twin sister showed an interest in him. I let the memories take me back to the funeral.
“Look at him, isn’t he the best fighter you’ve ever seen?” April breathed in awe. With her eyes glued to him she whispered, “I think Magni is short for magnificent.”
I agreed and placed my hand on the window, watching him punch the other man in his face with rage.
“Told you he was a fantastic fighter,” my father commented behind us. “Now, that man would be a catch for one of you.”
“I’ll marry him,” April whispered and squeezed my hand.
“No, I saw him first. He’s mine,” I said and jerked my hand back. “You can’t have him.”
My father’s deep chuckle only upset me. This was a serious matter, and he was laughing.
“Sorry, girls, but that young man would win any tournament he enters. He’ll be married before it’s your turn.”
Closing my eyes, I prayed for a miracle, telling God that I’d eat all my vegetables and be nice to my sister, if only he would make Magni notice me.
But God wasn’t in the mood to grant wishes for twelve-year-old girls. After an impressive roundhouse kick that sent his opponent to the ground, Magni brushed his hair back and leaned down to say something to the man on the ground, before he straightened up again. Adjusting his clothes, he glared at the circle of spectators as if waiting for one of them to step forward and challenge him. When no one did, Magni walked to his father and brother, and after a few words with them, he left.
I willed him to turn around and see me in the window, but he never did.
“Laura, are you up?” Hans called through the door, interrupting my memories.
“Almost,” I called back and swung my legs over the side of the bed. “Did you hear anything about Jonathan?” For eleven days we had chased the annoying Nman, who kept escaping us, leaving a trail of burglaries and frightened Motlanders in his wake. We had caught other Northlanders, but I wanted Jonathan since he was the first we had set out to catch.
“Yeah, he’s been seen again. We should hurry.”
I got in front of the mirror and braided my hair in Motlander style, something I’d learned to do while I had trained with my sensei. The style wasn’t as complicated as the intricate braids used in the Northlands. My sister and I had learned them to perfection from early childhood and this easy waterfall braid took me less than two minutes to do. In general, Motlander women wore their hair casual and didn’t use much make-up, while their men used colors, beads, or yarn to make their braids stand out.
“Here.” Hans handed me a green drink when I came out from the bedroom. “It’s got a ton of antioxidants and some beneficial seaweed.”
I sniffed at the drink and tried not to wrinkle my nose.
“Cheers,” he said and lifted his own glass. “Here’s to catching our guy today.”
“Let’s do it.” I emptied the glass in five seconds and ran my tongue over my teeth to make sure I didn’t have any green stuff stuck somewhere.
Hans took my glass back and gave me a nod. “You look pretty today. But remember, talk as little as possible. You have a different accent when you say certain words.
“Jonathan won’t hear my accent,” I said and adjusted my tight long-sleeved shirt that made my breasts stand out. “He’ll be busy looking at my boobs.”
Hans took a step back and studied me with a serious expression. “Yes, you do have that sensual glow that some men like.”
“But not you?” I asked out of curiosity.
He gave me a sweet smile. “I think you’re very beautiful in a sort of Amazonian way.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re very tall and strong, and you seem intrigued by violence rather than disturbed by it. Did I tell you I’m very well read too? In Greek mythology, there was a group of woman warriors known as the Amazons. They were daughters of some god that I can’t remember the name of. But the point is they were brutal and obsessed with war.”
“Are you calling me brutal?” I said, pretending to be offended.
Hans looked like a puppy who had just been struck. “No, of course not. I didn’t mean it in a bad way. My apologies if I insulted you.”
“It’s okay, Hans. I can live with you not being attracted to me.”
