A Midwinter Fantasy (25 page)

Vidar steered his snow cat Gleda to the icy ledge and halted the sleigh among the parked vehicles. Gleda stretched, raking her claws across the ice. He jumped out and patted his cat’s flank. “Hey, girl, play nice. No fighting while I’m inside.”

“Surely that’s a dangerous animal.” Sonja pressed herself in the corner of the sleigh, starring wide-eyed at the cat.

“They can be, but I’ve had Gleda since she was a cub.” He held out a hand to Sonja, crushing down his pleasure when she trusted him enough to leave the safety of the sleigh. He mustn’t fall for his own ploy and start believing this was a date.

“This is your father’s palace?”

“Valhalla.”

She ran her hand over a wall of ice. “It must be damn cold living here.”

A startled laugh burst from him. “Too right. I hate it.”

She halted, hanging on to his arm so he had to stop
with her. “If my father’s here . . .” She turned uncertain blue eyes on him and something inside him tightened to the point of pain. If she were hurt tonight, he would never forgive himself for dragging her into the conflict between Odin and Troy.

“Your father is of our world, Sonja.”

Her fingers tightened on his arm. “So, what does that make me?”

He didn’t want her to get upset and bolt. Odin must see her at the Yule Fest or there was no telling what the crazy old man would do. “Come and meet Troy. See for yourself.”

“My father’s name is Troy?” she asked, her voice breathy.

Vidar squeezed her hand as guilt pulsed through him. She trusted him, and he was setting her up.

He pushed down her blue hood and smoothed out the long golden strands of her hair with his fingers. Her soft pink beret was somehow innocently cute and damn sexy at the same time. And he shouldn’t think about her like this. He needed to get tonight over and send her home safely.

They approached the high arched entrance to the palace. The tiny gold fire imps and multicolored flower fairies decorating the tall Christmas trees on either side of the doorway swooped out of the branches and buzzed around their heads in a glittering cloud. Sonja pressed against his side with a squeal. “My god. I thought they were decorations.”

“They are. Hungry ones.” Vidar dug a jelly bean out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Hold it out on your flat palm. The dominant in the troop will take it.” She gave him an uncertain glance but did as instructed. A tiny pink woman landed on her hand, wings buzzing too fast to see. She curtsied, then grabbed the treat and flew back toward the Christmas trees with a cloud of colorful fairies in her wake.

Sonja laughed and held out her hand for another jelly bean.

“Let the flower fairy queen eat hers first or you’ll upset her.”

Sonja watched the tiny fairies, her blue eyes glowing with wonder as Vidar led her past the Christmas trees and into the entrance hall. The six female Valkyrie warriors on guard tensed visibly while their gazes tracked Sonja across the room.

A pine Yule log burned in the center of the palace’s cavernous main chamber, creating a puddle of meltwater on the ice floor. It produced a pleasant smell, and a golden glow that gave the illusion of warmth. The low murmur of conversation stopped as Vidar entered with Sonja on his arm; then the chatter of speculation rose. Everyone in the room knew why he’d brought her. Everyone except Sonja. Guilt burned through him again, and he pushed it away. He couldn’t allow Troy and Odin to fight as they had twenty-six years ago when Troy last visited Asgard. If there were a slim chance that Sonja’s presence might help keep the peace, he must use her.

“My god, Vidar.”

Sonja’s eyes rounded as she stared up at the eerie floating light globes illuminating the room. He followed her gaze, trying to see the scene as she did.

Her perusal of the room stopped on a group of tall silver-haired light elves. “Flipping heck. Who are they?”

“Light elves,” he growled.

Some of the male elves returned her appraisal, interest clear in their slanted turquoise eyes. Irritation flashed through Vidar as a couple of them broke away from the group and headed toward her. After a fleeting glance at Sonja to make sure she wasn’t watching, Vidar pushed aside the flap of his
coat and rested a hand on the hilt of his sword. The elves glared but returned to their friends.

“Watch out for them. They use fairy glamour to disguise themselves as human and then seduce the tourists.”

Sonja chuckled. “I’ll add that to the marketing blurb for your resort under unique attractions.”

Vidar stifled an angry breath. He’d come armed to prevent a confrontation between Troy and Odin, not to protect Sonja from sex-mad light elves.

She turned her attention to his father, who slouched on his dirty ice throne at the far end of the room, scowling down at the revelers with his one good eye. Vidar’s brother Thor sat on the ground at Odin’s side, his scruffy red head rested against the ice throne, already drunk by the look of him.

“There’s no need for me to introduce you to Odin and my brother Thor.”

“They look grumpy.”

Vidar gave a wry laugh. “You might say that.”

Sonja’s fingers suddenly dug into his arm. “That man’s my father, isn’t he?”

Vidar followed her gaze across the room. The Irish fairy queen had arrived late, but now Ciar stood in the center of a group of admirers. Fire flickered in her red hair while blue flames licked around her hands and dripped from her fingertips, leaving sooty pockmarks on the ice floor. Troy the Deathless stood behind her, pale and motionless as a marble statue. He still played at being her bodyguard when it suited him, even though he’d grown more powerful than she, centuries ago.

Troy’s blue gaze fixed on them, an arctic whip of accusation. Vidar placed his hand over Sonja’s grip on his arm,
making sure her father understood the reason for her presence. Troy bent to whisper in Ciar’s ear; then he slipped through the crowd toward them.

Despite his flamboyant clothes, he moved with the controlled grace of a fighter. Vidar prayed that Troy behaved himself, because when he finally decided to take revenge on Odin for the past, nobody would be powerful enough to stop him.

Sonja couldn’t tear her eyes from the man striding toward her through the crowd. Everyone in his path stepped aside as though repelled by an invisible force field.

This man—her father—didn’t even appear human. His skin glowed, and an aura of elemental danger surrounded him. Panic ticked in her throat. A primitive survival instinct screamed at her to hide. She stepped back into the security of Vidar’s arm.

So intently did she watch her father’s face, she only registered his ostentatious ermine-trimmed scarlet brocade coat and the froth of lace at his throat when he reached her.

“Vidar the Valiant.” Troy’s softly spoken words held little inflection but drove through her with the cold thrust of a blade. He stared at Vidar with lacerating intensity. Then his gaze dropped to Sonja and he smiled. His change of expression was as unexpected and shocking as the sun flaring bright at midnight.

“Sonja, daughter, this is an unexpected pleasure.”

She’d thought her father might ignore her or be rude to her. She hadn’t expected him to be pleased to meet her. Her brain stalled, and she couldn’t get a single word out of her mouth.

His eyes softened as his gaze flicked over her. His hand rose, his fingertips softly brushing her check. The tension in her body fell away. A moment of perfect peace sang through
her before the reality of the situation filtered back and the blissful sensation faded.

Her resemblance to her father was amazing. After Vidar’s comment she’d expected him to have blue eyes and long blond hair, but even the shape of Troy’s features was similar to hers, if with a strong masculine cast.

“Why . . . why haven’t we met before?”
Why did you abandon me?

Her father angled his head to stare at Odin, who resembled a tramp, hunched as he was on his grubby throne, with his straggly gray hair and crumpled clothes. “Ask our host,” he said in a lethally soft voice.

Vidar’s body stiffened behind her. Sonja glanced over her shoulder to see his jaw clench. “What does he mean, Vidar?”

Her question hung unanswered. The crowd had fallen silent and stood watching.

“Not the time or the place for this, Troy,” Vidar said. His arm tightened around Sonja.

Troy’s gaze flicked down to where Vidar held her before returning to his face. “Never is, my old friend.” He pivoted away and started walking back toward the woman with the fiery hair.

“Wait!” Sonja cried, stepping forward, her hand raised as if she could summon him back. She had so many questions she wanted to ask. “Can I see you again?”

With fluid grace, Troy swung back toward her. Regret flashed across his face, replaced immediately by merciless determination. “No.”

The word reverberated around the room. He turned his back on her again. After a few seconds of mortified shock, her gaze skated over the onlookers, who stared back at her as if she were a freak.

Suddenly, she couldn’t get enough oxygen. She ran toward
the door, jostling people out of her way. She barely spared a glance for the female soldiers in the entrance hall. When she burst outside, she gasped aching lungfuls of frigid air. The tiny fairies from the Christmas trees swarmed around her head, chattering and laughing. She batted them away.

She hadn’t expected her father to be interested in her. So why did his rejection hurt so much?

“Skitur
.” Vidar cursed as Sonja dashed away through the crowd. Her distress strummed along his nerves. He clenched his hands and resisted the instinct to follow and comfort her; he could not leave the Yule Fest until he was sure Troy wouldn’t cause trouble.

He paced after Sonja’s father and caught up with him before he rejoined the Irish fairy queen. “We need to talk,” he said.

Troy wheeled around, his hand reaching over his shoulder for the sword strapped to his back. He gripped the sword hilt but didn’t draw. “You are a man without honor, Vidar. When I persuaded Odin to release Sonja from the Crystal Crib twenty-six years ago, we agreed that she would be told nothing of our world and never be involved in our conflict.”

Frustrated anger twisted Vidar’s guts.
He
would have adhered to the agreement. “Odin had other ideas.”

“Odin always does.” Troy slashed a glance at the grizzled old man hunched upon his ice throne. Odin’s good eye was fixed on them, the other hidden behind an eye patch.

Troy released his sword hilt and raised his hand, throwing a light dome around himself and Vidar for privacy. For a split second his face fractured with emotion, but then his barriers snapped back. Regret rode heavy on Vidar, a memory of a time long ago when they had loved each other like brothers. Before Troy’s father Loki had killed Vidar’s brother
and spurred Odin into an orgy of violent retribution that still echoed horror through the halls of Asgard.

“
I
am not the aggressor, Vidar. I never was.”

“Nor I, Troy.” They stared at each other, the bad blood between their families too bitter and venomous for any hint of friendship to have survived. “I did my best for you when my father wrought revenge. If not for me, Sonja would have died in her crib.”

“Yet now she’s grown you put her in harm’s way?”

“She’s under my protection.”

“That rather negates your threat to harm her if I don’t behave.”

“You know I would never have followed through.”

“I should raze this icy hell to the ground for what Odin did to my family.” Troy’s jaw tightened, and Vidar’s hand went to the sword hidden beneath his coat—not that it would do him any good if Troy decided to unleash his power. “But I enjoy watching your father squirm while he awaits my vengeance. One day I’ll punish him, but not tonight. Go after my daughter and return her safely to the human world.”

Vidar let his hand drop away from his sword. Once they had been equals, young men sparring together, learning the pleasures and dangers of the world they inhabited. Now he doubted he could even stand against Troy in hand-to-hand combat. But he dared not show weakness. “Give me your word that you won’t cause trouble.”

“I give my word I will wreak havoc if you don’t look after my daughter.”

“Understood.” That was the best he could hope for.

“And . . . Vidar.” Troy waited for him to meet his gaze before he continued. “You will never tell Sonja that her power’s trapped in the Crystal Crib.”

Vidar gave a sharp nod. That was something on which they agreed.

The light dome dissolved with a pop, and Vidar strode away through the crowd, ignoring the frantic gestures of his father who would want details of his conversation with Troy. He surged out through the door into the darkness.

Odin’s shape-shifter spies waited perched on the edge of a carriage in raven form, no doubt ready to follow him. Vidar balled a handful of ice crystals and hurled the missile at the bigger bird. Huginn shot into the air in a flurry of black feathers.

“Get lost!” Vidar shouted as Muninn followed his brother.

Sonja stood alone near their sleigh, her arms wrapped around her body, her teeth chattering. He strode up behind her and gathered her into his embrace. “I’m taking you back to Santa’s world.”

“How are you involved with me and my father?”

When she tried to turn around and look at him, he held her tightly against his chest. He should have prepared for this question. “You’re cold and tired. Let’s talk when we’re back in the warmth.” After he’d had time to come up with an answer.

She didn’t object as he hustled her past the sleeping snow cat and into the sleigh. At a word from him, Gleda stood and stretched, flicking her tail. He pulled back on the reins. They reversed off the ice platform and headed toward the woodland where he’d left the theme park’s shuttle.

Sonja huddled deep in the fur coat he’d disguised as a thermal fleece, staring at something in her hands.

“Are you all right?”

When she didn’t reply, Vidar clasped both reins in one hand and used his fingers to tip up her chin. He’d thought
she might be crying, but she stared at him dry-eyed, the same guarded expression on her face that Troy wore so well. She’d arrived at his office earlier that day excited and enthusiastic. In a few short hours, he’d killed her excitement and drained her enthusiasm.
Bloody good job, Vidar
.