A Midwinter Fantasy

by Leanna Renee Hieber; L. J. McDonald; Helen Scott Taylor

  A second knock roused her from her indecision, and she opened the door. Vidar stood outside, swathed in a long fur coat, the hood framing his face. With his unusual golden brown eyes and tawny skin, he looked exotic and out of place in this snowy world.

  “Good evening, Sonja. Are you ready?”

  “Yes.” If she were ever going to make her mark and impress her aunt, she must take risks to get what she wanted. And this might be her only chance to meet her father.

  Over her pantsuit, she pulled on her champagne wool coat, then added her pink gloves and matching beret. When she stepped outside, Vidar scanned her from head to toe.

  “You’ll freeze dressed like that.”

  “Isn’t the party inside?”

  He gave her a veiled look. “You’ll still need warmer clothes.”

  She spread her arms and looked down at herself. “I only brought an overnight bag. This is all I have.”

  With a resigned breath, he ushered her into one of the resort’s shuttle carts. He squashed into the driver’s seat beside her. She hugged her coat close, acutely aware of him pressed against her in the confined space.

  The cart headed out of a small gate manned by a security guard and took a narrow snow-covered track into woodland. Sonja peered back over her shoulder at the receding lights of the resort. Apprehension fluttered in her chest. “I assumed the Yule Fest was in the theme park.”

  “Uh-huh,” he said, as if his mind was elsewhere.

  “Vidar!” He glanced her way at her sharp tone. “Where’re you taking me?”

  A wave of reassurance swept through her like a gentling hand smoothing out her worries, even as her mind told her something was wrong. “The Yule Fest is a little out of the way,” he said. One corner of his mouth quirked, nearly making it into a smile. “You’ll enjoy the next part of the journey.”

  He stopped the shuttle and cut the engine. Sonja had been so focused on the resort disappearing behind them that she hadn’t noticed the view up ahead. Her breath caught at the sight of a glittering sleigh harnessed with a white horse. Decorated with golden lanterns and colored bows trimmed with silver bells, the magical carriage rested on a patch of pristine snow.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  Vidar shrugged. “Seen one, seen them all.”

  He grabbed something from the sleigh and tossed it on her lap. She stared at the fur coat with distaste.

  “I don’t wear fur.”

  “It’s not a fashion statement, Sonja. It’s a necessity.”

  “I prefer to stick with my own coat.”

  She was a little chilly, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle for a short while until they got inside. She handed back the fur. He dropped it in the sleigh; then he pushed a fleecy blue coat into her hands. The material felt just like fur. She squinted at it. He raised his eyebrows.

  “Okay, I’ll wear this one,” she decided. She’d never seen a blue animal.

  Vidar checked the harness on the horse while she changed coats. She slipped in the snow when she climbed out of the shuttle, but before she could blink he had a steadying arm around her waist. Her heart skittered as he hugged her to his side and guided her to the sleigh. She could get used to this type of gentlemanly behavior.

  Once she and Vidar were seated, the sleigh glided forward, bells jingling. A thrill zinged through her. “This makes me think of Santa Claus. All we need is a sack of gifts and some reindeer.” She turned to grin at him but found him staring at her, eyebrows drawn together.

  “You missed out on Christmas when you were a child, didn’t you?”

  What was he, a mind reader?

  She shrugged. “I survived.” She pushed down the sharp pang of pity for her younger self and stared at the passing tree trunks as the sleigh slid along the forest track.

  Vidar’s hand covered hers and the guardian angel’s familiar loving presence swept through her like a warm wind chasing away the clouds. She glanced at Vidar, confused that they had both chosen that moment to comfort her. Vidar smiled, the shadows in his eyes disappearing.

  “You’re in the right place to enjoy Christmas,” he said. “Perhaps you should try out some of the rides in the park. Maybe I’ll join you.”

  For the first time in years, a magical anticipation filled the air, as if Christmas morning had arrived and anything was possible. Her fingers strayed to her jacket pocket where she’d stashed the resort button. Maybe dreams did come true. After a lifetime of hoping, Sonja was about to meet her father. She didn’t kid herself he’d be pleased to see her, but at least he might explain what had happened to her mother and why he’d deserted her.

  Tiny flakes of snow swirled around them. The forest thinned and the track became less defined. In the far distance, jagged icy peaks pierced the leaden sky. Sonja’s face stung with the cold, so she pulled the hood of the blue coat up over her hat.

  “Where are you taking me?” she shouted, the wind whipping away her words. Vidar just snapped the reins, making the horse move faster. Out of the whiteness, a deep shadowy ravine loomed in front of them.

  “Vidar, stop!”

  Sonja’s heart slammed painfully, and she snatched panicked gulps of arctic air. She grabbed for the reins but Vidar caught her wrist to restrain her.

  “You’re safe,” he shouted. A whisper of calm stroked across her churning thoughts. “Sit still and hold on.”

  She clutched his arm and pressed her face into his furclad shoulder.

  “I’m not going to kill us,” he breathed against her ear.

  Her rational mind knew his words made sense; her survival instinct wasn’t taking any chances. She dragged her face up and glanced at the rapidly passing ground, wondering if she dared jump.

  “Trust me, Sonja.” His words flowed into her, soothing and reassuring.

  Then the horse leaped over the precipice. Her breath jammed in her lungs. Sonja squeezed her eyes closed. But the sickening stomach-flipping fall she expected didn’t happen. The sleigh shuddered and bumped; then the ride smoothed. After a few frantic beats of her heart, she cracked open her eyes. Instead of falling, they climbed into the swirling cloud of snowflakes.

  With her gloved fingers still fastened in a death grip around Vidar’s arm, Sonja peered down at the snowy valley hundreds of feet below them. She scrabbled to make sense of what was happening. They were at least two miles from the resort, so the sleigh couldn’t be a theme-park ride.

  Shocked and angry, she punched him in the arm. “How are you doing this?”

  A flash of remorse crossed his face. “I live in a different world from you, Sonja.”

  “You’re telling me flying horses are normal in Iceland?”

  “Not horses.”

  Her gaze jerked back to the creature pulling the sleigh and her eyes bugged. A huge white cat the size of a tiger strained against the harness. A little squeal broke from her throat. In Norse mythology, the goddess Freya had a flying carriage pulled by giant cats. Like any sane person, she’d assumed that was fantasy.

  “I’ll stay by your side at the Yule Fest. You’ve nothing to fear,” Vidar promised.

  “The Yule Fest!” They were hanging in the air in a sleigh pulled by a giant cat and he thought she was worried about a party? “I don’t care about the stupid Yule Fest,” she shouted. “Take me back. Now.”

  “Don’t you want to meet your father? We’re nearly there.”

  Her breath rushed in and out, in counterpoint to the thudding of her pulse in her ears. She closed her eyes for a few seconds and tried to calm herself. “Where exactly is this Yule Fest?”

  “My father’s place.”

  His father lived in the freaking sky? “Who is your father?”

  “Odin.”

  “Odin—as in the Norse god?” Sonja wrinkled her cute little nose at Vidar, obviously wondering if he were mad.

  Vidar nodded, wishing he could protect her from the horrors of his world—namely his father.

  While she was here, he had decided to stay out of her m
ind unless he needed to calm her or soothe her fear, but he couldn’t resist slipping into her thoughts to test her reaction as the glittering icy turrets of the gods’ kingdom of Asgard came into view. Her wonder mingled with apprehension, but she didn’t panic. He was proud of how well she coped. But he shouldn’t have expected anything less. After all, she was the daughter of a man notorious for his emotional control.

  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.

  Chapter Three

  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 re
semblance 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.