A Midwinter Fantasy - Leanna Renee Hieber [95]
He leaned his forehead against hers. Her eyelids fell as the familiar comforting sense of him swept through her, calming her fears and smoothing her worries. His lips brushed her forehead.
“There’re things I need to explain, Sonja. Things you have a right to know.”
Vidar rose, and she immediately missed his touch. He fetched a small cream silk bag from a shelf before returning to the bed. After unfastening the drawstring, he upended the bag over his palm. Three linked blue crystal rings dropped out—similar in shape to a Celtic knot.
“This is your Magic Knot.”
He rubbed a finger wistfully across the rings then placed them in her hand. A shimmer of awareness spread across Sonja’s skin before stirring through her. The air around her subtly shifted, and she felt she could reach out and touch the layers of light and warmth. She held up the strange jewelry. Flickers of firelight danced within the crystalline structure as if the rings themselves contained fire.
“The three rings of your Magic Knot hold the essence of your mind, body, and spirit,” Vidar said. “Keep them safe.”
Sonja turned confused blue eyes on him, and Vidar’s heart went out to her. Why hadn’t he refused when his father demanded he involve her in the feud with her father? She didn’t deserve to be tangled up in the conflict. But even as the thought passed through his mind, a selfish part of him admitted that he wanted her here.
He shifted closer to her and brushed his fingertips around her palm, circling the three crystal rings. The urge to touch her rode him like the need to breathe.
“Is the Magic Knot really magic?” she asked.
“I suppose it sounds like it to you, but it’s simply a part of life. Humans have them as well, but they’ve internalized them.”
Tiny lines appeared between her eyebrows, and his fingers itched to stroke them away.
“You’re saying I’m not human?”
Vidar almost laughed. “Sonya, ástin mín, you’ve met your father.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Point taken.”
“I’m not human either.” He gave into temptation and smoothed the pad of his thumb over her cheek.
“So if these stones really are part of me, why did you have them?”
“It’s complicated.” Vidar rubbed a hand back and forth over her quilt-covered legs, soothing. Explaining what had happened to her when she was a baby without freaking her out was going to be difficult, if not impossible. She had coped with so many revelations in the last few days; he didn’t want to shatter her perception of herself any further. Yet he owed her the truth.
He was damned if he told her, damned if he didn’t.
He rose and went to stare out of the small diamond-shaped panes of glass in his door. On the icy terrace outside, Gleda lay curled in a tight furry ball against the blast of snow-laden wind sweeping up the ravine. This lonely life he’d tolerated for so long would be transformed if Sonja stayed.
She came to stand beside him and squinted out through the window. “Where are we?”
“In the uninhabited interior of the country, where nobody can find us. I have an apartment at the resort, but this is where I retreat for privacy.”
For long minutes she stared outside, gnawing her lip. He gave in to the need to touch her again and smoothed his palm in comforting circles on her slender back. The touch seemed to rouse her, and she turned to him. “Tell me the full story about this feud between our families, Vidar. I need to understand.”
Should he tell her the whole truth and watch her world crumble around her? Or should he lie and protect her feelings—and his own? He sucked in a breath. “Go and sit by the fire.”
He followed her to the sofa and sat beside her. He sent calming thoughts along their mental link, wrapped her in his strength so she could cope with his revelations.
“Our families had a falling out.”
With a frustrated breath Sonja said, “Don’t talk to me as though I’m a child.”
Vidar fought against his instinct to protect her. “Okay, here’s the short version—Troy’s father killed my brother.”
Sonja pressed a hand to her mouth. “My god. I’m sorry. When?”
“A long time ago.” He couldn’t bring himself