A Midwinter Fantasy - Leanna Renee Hieber [84]
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