Daughters (Nordic Fairies, #4) (6 page)

The band played a slower version of Cindy Lauper’s
Time after Time
. With his arms around his daughter and her head against his chest, Viggo fought the urge to stroke her hair.

“It’s strange,” she said. “I feel so safe around you. I don’t know why.”

He smiled, not sure how to respond.

“I’m sorry.” Freja wrinkled her nose, and her body tensed. “I didn’t mean to... I know that you’re...” She trailed off. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” He gave into the urge and moved his hand over her long blonde hair. “I’m glad you feel that way.”

She relaxed and wrapped her arms tighter around him. Viggo met Svala’s gaze across the ballroom. She leaned against a parlor under a cluster of balloons, watching them with a weightless gaze.

“Do you feel the same about Brian?” he asked.

Freja paused, as if to think about it. “No. That’s different.”

“What do you mean?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t explain it. I’ve had this feeling about you since I first met you. I really can’t say what it is, but there is something about you that makes me calm.”

“So you don’t feel calm around Brian?” He was pushing it, but he couldn’t let go.

“I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it.” She leaned back. “Why do you ask?”

Their eyes met, hers curious, his worried.

“What?” she urged.

“I just want you to be careful. Brian might not be all you want him to be. You shouldn’t do anything you might regret.”

She frowned and her body grew rigid. “What do you mean? Did Svala say something?”

“No. But Brian’s said some things...” Her eyes widened and he feared he’d gone too far. “You’re way too special for someone who might not fully appreciate you.”

She smiled and evaded his gaze. “You really think so?”

He nodded.

Freja blushed, then looked at him again. “You’re sweet. Too bad you’re...you know.” Her brows arched up.

It was his turn to avoid her gaze. “Yeah.”

Freja placed her cheek against his chest again, but the song was about to end. Brian watched them from the edge of the dance floor, waiting for Freja to return. His gaze held a focused, flinty stare, and Viggo’s stomach twisted. There had to be something he could do to prevent her from sleeping with this jerk.

“Could you promise me something, Freja?” he asked.

“Depends on what it is.”

Her response made him smile. The music faded into the next song, and Freja eased out of his embrace, gazed up, and waited.

“Promise me you won’t lose your virginity to that guy in the backseat of a limo.”

She grinned and nodded. “I promise.”

Present time.

Washington

Emma sauntered down the school hallway in a tight red mini skirt and black tank top, head held high. The usual group of girls followed behind her like faithful servants. Svala watched her from the lockers. She didn’t know what surprised her more, that the girls were so easily manipulated, or that Emma thrived on the false attention. Not one of those girls had a genuine interest in being Emma’s friend. She had to be aware of that.

A few feet from Svala, a freshman girl stood gathering her books. Her thick glasses, bad complexion and braces made her an obvious target. While passing, Emma grabbed the girl’s locker door and gave it a light push. Startled, the girl dropped all her books to the floor. Her face reddened as she kneeled and scrabbled for them.

“Freak!” Emma smirked, and glanced over her shoulder to catch the approval from the other girls.

Svala hesitated at first, but eventually walked out to the hallway to intercept her. Emma stopped and stared at her as if she couldn’t believe the audacity of her intrusion. “What do you want?” She placed a hand on her hip.

“I think you should apologize to that girl and help her get her books,” Svala said.

Emma sneered and turned to her friends. They grimaced and glared at Svala.

“And who are you? My
mother
?” Emma stepped aside to get past, but Svala moved to prevent her.

“Please,” she insisted.

Emma’s jaw dropped. She glanced back at her friends again. “Seriously. What’s your problem?” Her gaze flickered, making it impossible for Svala to establish eye contact.

“I don’t like the way you’re acting. There’s no reason for it. Why are you doing things like that?” Svala nodded toward the girl, clutching her books against her chest, cheeks still flush.

Emma leered, then eased closer until her face was only inches from Svala’s. “Because I can.” Her self-confident smirk lingered as she pushed Svala’s shoulder with force, moving her out of the way. She continued her stroll down the hallway, and some of the other girls in Emma’s wake intentionally bumped into Svala as they passed, mimicking Emma’s smug expression.

“What the hell are you doing?” Sarah hissed behind her in a strained voice. “Why did you have to go and do that for?”

Svala kept her back against Sarah. “Because she was mean.”

“So?”

She turned, but ignored Sarah’s annoyed frown and walked over to the lockers where the rest of her friends waited. Jen offered an impressed, approving smile while Jayden and Noah exchanged a look of surprise. Megan played with a strand of her hair, her gaze darting between Sarah and Svala.

Sarah’s face twisted into a grimace. “I don’t get it. You of all people, who had a real chance of becoming her friend, and you just ruined it. Now we’ll never be invited over.”

“Why would Svala have a better chance of becoming her friend than all those other girls sucking up to her?” Jen asked.

“Because she likes that stuff her mother is into. She would have an edge, something to talk about.”

Jen chortled. “Listen to yourself. Do you even hear yourself speak? Think about it. What does your mother like?”

Sarah shrugged. “I don’t know. Antiques.”

“So, done a lot of antique shopping lately?” Jen asked.

Sarah’s eyes narrowed. Jen smirked, then turned to Svala. “Now, what I’d like to know is why you declined the offer to have lunch with Viggo Storm the other day.”

They had been over this already. Macy Thomas claimed to have overheard their conversation in the hallway, though at this point several versions circulated the school. Emma told everyone that Svala begged to come along, and that Viggo, being such a nice guy, didn’t want to turn her down. In this version, Emma eventually saved the day and told Svala she was out of line for asking, and that she couldn’t come along, thus saving poor Viggo from an uncomfortable situation.

“That thing has already been blown out of proportion. It’s best if I don’t entertain any more rumors,” Svala said.

Jayden studied her.

“Well, did you beg to come along or not?” Sarah asked.

Svala sighed, and met Emma’s gaze at the end of the corridor. The girl offered a nasty smirk before she turned to disappear around the corner. It hurt to see her grandchild dislike her so.

“Are you deaf? She doesn’t want to talk about it,” Jen snapped.

“Hey,” Sarah said. “I think it’s interesting to know if she did. She keeps pretending she isn’t even interested in him. A good friend would be honest. Unless she has an agenda of her own.”

Svala sighed and turned to open her locker. People could talk all they wanted. Rumors annoyed her but seldom upset her. What bothered her was her grandchild's odd behavior. Something wasn’t right. As half Liosálfar, Emma shouldn’t be acting this way. If only she could get to Viggo and find out what he knew.

***

Trym sat in his study when Svala came home from school that day. She planned to walk past his door with every intention to continue their ongoing charade where both pretended nothing was wrong. As she passed, catching a glimpse of Trym sitting by his desk, she changed her mind, and went back.

Engrossed in something on his laptop screen, Trym didn’t look up when she came into view. She crossed her arms over her chest, leaned against the doorframe, and waited a few seconds before she spoke. “We need to talk.”

Trym lifted a finger, his gaze still trained on the screen. “Give me a minute, I’ll be right with you.”

Svala sighed, audible. Trym looked up and frowned, then returned to the screen, clicked a few times on his mouse and lingered for a few seconds on the screen before he looked up. “So, what’s going on?” he smiled.

Her brows drew together and a snort escaped her. “Seriously, we’re doing this?”

Trym leaned back in his large chair, confusion on his face. “Doing what?”

“This thing where you pretend everything is normal. Well, it’s not and I won’t do this anymore. I want you to give me my phone. I have to call Viggo.”

Trym’s expression wavered between a frown and a smile. “Excuse me?”

She extended her hand. “Give me the damn phone, Trym. I’m sick of this game. I have to call him and find out what’s going on.”

The black leather chair squeaked as Trym got up. He circled the desk. Svala waited, her hand still outstretched, but her eyes betrayed her insecurity. He leaned against the massive oak surface and rubbed his chin. “You expect me to give you the phone when you admit you’ll use it to call him?”

“Yes.”

Trym studied her for a few seconds. “What is this about, Svala?”

She lowered her hand. “I have to know what is going on. You won’t tell me anything about what you know, or what you and Viggo talked about in the garden that night. I can’t stand not knowing anything. I’m going crazy.”

“Sweetie, I’m only trying to protect you.”

She snorted, and as Trym shifted his feet in silence she turned, ready to storm out of there and up to her room and slam her door shut. An appropriate reaction to his treatment of her. She was almost out the door when he broke the silence.

“I told him to stop.”

She paused, then turned. She hadn’t expected him to answer.

“I told him he is gambling with the most valuable thing he’s got, and that nothing could possibly be worth it.”

She met his gaze.

“I told him to stop. Whatever it is he’s doing, before he loses you.”

Trym extended his arm and Svala walked up to him. She accepted his gesture and fell into his embrace. Trym rested his chin on the top of her head, one arm around her small frame. “I told him he can’t begin to imagine how much it will hurt to lose you, and that if he misses you now because of three years apart, it’s nothing compared to how much he’ll miss you when he can never get you back.”

Svala’s throat tightened. Trym never talked about losing Alrik, and it killed her to think about what she knew about him. Trym eased away and offered a meek smile. “Then I told him I’d hurt him if he ever forced you to go through what I’ve been through.”

“Trym... I’m so sorry. I’ve been so insensitive.”

Trym put both arms around her and pulled her in again. It was ridiculous he should have to comfort her under the circumstances.

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

He kissed her temple. “Don’t be sorry, be smart.”

She leaned back with a confused frown. He smiled. “You’re the strong one, and you know it. You can’t give in to temptation. I know you miss him. Believe me, I know, but you have to fight it.”

Her face twisted into a grimace. He was wrong. She wasn’t strong, not like him.

“I would never do anything to hurt you,” Trym said. “I know it’s difficult to understand sometimes, but I’m only trying to do what’s best for you.”

She closed her eyes and thought of everything she hadn’t told him. About Viggo’s suspicion, the envelope, visiting Freja in New York. Meeting Alrik. “Trym, I need to ask you something.”

Their eyes met. Trym nodded, urging her to continue.

“Did you visit Freja when we were in New York for the premiere?”

He held her gaze for a few seconds, then nodded.

“Why?” she asked.

He paused again. “I wanted to make sure she was okay. I’ve checked up on her over the years. Made sure she was taken care of, financially. I’m sorry I never told you, it’s just...I knew I could look her up without anyone suspecting anything. I knew I was the only one who could.”

“Did you send her the painting?”

A subtle smile surfaced on his face. “Yeah. I found it on a flea market in the eighties. I couldn’t believe it. I went down to the Hamptons one weekend, and there it stood, leaned up against a wall. I kept it in a safe for years before I sent it to her. I never dreamed...”

Svala reached up and caressed his cheek. “Thank you.”

He met her gaze. “For what?”

“For looking out for her.”

He shrugged. “I’m afraid I might have done more harm than good over the years.”

She thought of the envelope, then the car accident and shook her head. “No. You did everything right.”