A Midwinter Fantasy - Leanna Renee Hieber [100]
“I was frozen. Like cryogenics?”
“I suppose the crib must have worked in a similar way.”
She heard his words. But that’s all his explanation was: just words. “I don’t remember anything before I went to kindergarten . . .” She curled her fingers into the quilt. “What happened to my mother?”
“She ran away and we never found her. But she was human, Sonja.” Vidar’s grip tightened on her fingers. “She must be long dead.”
Sonja’s gaze lost focus. She tried to imagine her mother living out her life without her husband and daughter. “Didn’t my father try to find her?”
“I’m certain he did. Troy had little power then, but he’s always been determined.”
“And you had me frozen?” She glanced up at him, and he held her gaze, his golden eyes anguished.
“I’m sorry, Sonja.”
She pulled the quilt off the bed, wrapped it around her shoulders, then stood staring at nothing.
“Are you all right, elskan mín?”
“Stop calling me that,” she snapped. “What does it even mean?”
“Sweetheart,” he whispered, gruffly.
Her anger vanished as quickly as it had flared. She wanted to make sense of everything, but her brain refused to work. She wandered around the end of the bed and plopped down on the sofa in front of the fire. She was two thousand years old, and Vidar had frozen her in a Crystal Crib.
He crouched beside her. “I grabbed your Magic Knot when Odin would have crushed it and killed you by breaking the link between your body, mind, and spirit. That’s why I touched it.”
So, he hadn’t even intended to bond himself to her.
“If you hadn’t frozen me, I’d have lived and died centuries ago like my mother . . .”
“Perhaps,” he allowed.
Her gaze left the flames and sought his face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Your father’s known as Troy the Deathless. If you’ve taken after him, there’s a strong possibility you can’t die.”
Chapter Eight
Vidar persuaded Sonja to return to bed with him and try to sleep, claiming she would feel better in the morning. He fell asleep quickly. But even snuggled in his arms she couldn’t settle. She wriggled out from under his arm, then pressed a kiss to his shoulder before climbing out of bed.
Her restless mind turned over what Vidar had told her. She rationalized that as she’d been in stasis during the years she’d spent in the crib, she was really only twenty-six. But she couldn’t get her head around the fact that Vidar had lived in Iceland, trapped by Odin’s ring, for two thousand years. And then there was Vidar’s comment about her never dying.
Sonja pulled on her clothes and went to the small kitchen to fix herself some hot milk. She was pouring it into a mug when a subtle shift in the atmosphere sent prickles racing up her spine. Now that she had her Magic Knot, she sensed the air around her like water, and it had just been disturbed. She gripped the handle of the milk pan tightly to use as a weapon, sucked in a breath, and turned.
She’d expected to see one of Odin’s sneaky henchmen. Air rushed out of her lungs in relief to find her father standing at the entrance to the galley kitchen. His skin glowed pearly white in the semidarkness. His black jacket accentuated the pristine white lace at his throat and his golden hair. The only spot of color in his black and white ensemble was a huge rainbow-hued gem on the gold spike holding up his hair.
“Sonja, my child.” His words whispered around her, quieting her surge of fear.
“I didn’t think you wanted to see me again,” she said.
“I harbored the futile hope that my disinterest would keep you safe.” He stepped forward and his strong fingers brushed the slave ring on her hand. “I was wrong. If we’re to fight back, you have much to learn.”
Vidar stirred in the bed on the far side of the room. Troy’s head turned at the noise. “I need time with you alone,” he said, walking across the room. He threw a bubble of light over the bed, obscuring Vidar.
“Don’t hurt him!” Sonja hurried across to Vidar, a knot