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

Ever since Svala introduced the two of them, Freja had swooned over Viggo like a love-sick puppy. When Svala brought it up, Viggo said she read too much into it, and what she picked up was no different from the connection she too had with their daughter. He told her she was paranoid and if Freja had any romantic interest in him, he’d know. Sometimes he could be so blind.

Freja reached over and fingered the gem stone necklace on Svala’s dresser. “Did you notice how Lori was all over him today?”

Svala shook her head. “No, I didn’t notice.”

That was a lie. She’d picked up on every single movement, every glance that girl offered Viggo. How she bit her lower lip and smiled under those long eye lashes, like the two of them shared a secret. The seductive manner in which she leaned in to read from his book, gently placing her hand on the small of his back, letting her blonde hair intentionally fall against his shoulder. Mostly she’d picked up on how Viggo had done nothing to stop her.

“What? We were reading,” was his defense when she questioned their interaction earlier that day.

She’d grabbed his arm and pulled him aside in the corridor, away from prying eyes, lowering her voice with restrain. “Does reading require touching each other?”

A deep weighted sigh escaped him. “Oh come on, she leaned against me. You have to stop this, honey. First Freja, now Lori. You’re getting paranoid, and there is no reason for it.”

Freja placed the amber stone against the palm of her hand and looked into its glowing center with a soft expression. “Would you mind if I borrowed this?”

“No, of course not. Go ahead.” A warmth spread through her body. Sometimes she couldn’t tear her eyes off their daughter, and it pleased her when she took an interest in her heritage without even knowing it. “You can keep it if you want.”

“No, I couldn’t.” Freja placed the jewelry back onto the dresser. “You love that necklace, you wear it all the time.”

“True, but if you wore it, I would get to see it more often.” Svala got up, took the necklace off the dresser, and handed it to Freja. “Please, I insist.”

Freja accepted the gift with a shy smile, staring at the stone as if she detected something magical in it. Even as a child, she’d been mesmerized by Svala’s amber jewelry.

With the necklace secured in her hand, Freja met Svala’s gaze. “Why are you so nice to me?”

Svala reached out to touch her daughter’s hair. The two of them were so much alike, people often mistook them for twins. “You’re my best friend; I’d do anything for you.”

Freja smiled. “Really?”

“Really.”

Freja closed her hand around the amber stone and shifted her gaze to the floor. Svala’s hand fell back to her side. “Something wrong?” she asked.

With her lips pressed together, Freja shook her head and met Svala’s gaze again. “No, it’s just... “ She frowned. “Never mind.”

“No, what were you going to say?”

“I don’t know. It’s so strange. This. Us. Sometimes I feel like I’ve known you before, like we’re linked somehow.” Her shoulders slumped and she shifted her gaze to the floor again with another frown. “I know, it’s stupid.”

Svala reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. “No, it’s not. I feel the same way.”

Their eyes met again. “You do?” Freja’s brows drew together, but a smile slowly resurfaced.

Svala nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

***

Svala returned from the movies later in the evening to find Trym sorting through their bills by the kitchen table. When she came into view, he glanced at the large, oval clock on the wall. “You’re home early.”

“Yeah. Freja kept talking about Viggo. She wants me to include him more when we do things. I couldn’t come up with any more excuses as to why he can’t come along so I told her I wasn’t well. We really have to do something about this, Trym. We have to find a way to divert her feelings.” She rubbed her temple, feeling a headache approaching.

He leaned back on his chair. “I’m sure it’ll blow over on its own. Give it some time.”

She closed her eyes and leaned against the wall. “It’s been two years now. If anything, it’s getting worse. She never says it straight out, she’s so careful.”

He leaned over the table and placed his pen on the table. “Well, you know she’s got abandonment issues, she told you. It’s not so strange after what she’s been through. She’s probably terrified to put herself in a situation where she would risk rejection.”

The refrigerator hummed through a moment of silence and his intention to help only added to her guilt. Their daughter was scarred because of them.

He searched her gaze. “You’re doing great. She trusts you, and she’s so relaxed around you. Whatever happened in the past you’ve been given a chance to build her up again, show her she can trust people.”

She forced a smile and nodded. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. It’s just... I don’t understand this at all. Is she one of us, or will she grow old and die never to be reborn? It would be so much easier if I knew. If I could tell her what she is. She’s got the heart of a Liosálfar, why won’t they officially turn her? She’s already sixteen years old.”

He exhaled audibly. “I don’t know, sweetie. Every time I bring it up with the High Council, they avoid answering my questions.”

Frustrated, Svala walked over and rummaged through the pantry, finding a box of Twinkies behind Trym’s Wasa crisp bread. She grabbed one and turned it over in her hand. “Did you buy these?”

Trym lowered the pen again, and a line formed between his eyebrows as he stared at the item in her hand. “Yeah.” He reached up to rub his chin.

“Really?” She squinted her eyes, then walked over and took the seat across from him, placing the Twinkie in front of her on the kitchen table.

With his gaze trained on the Twinkie, Trym leaned back on his chair and grazed his lips with his index finger. “It’s the strangest thing, actually. The last five times I’ve been to the store a packet of Twinkies ended up in my basket, and I can’t for the life of me remember putting it there. I’ve put it back on the shelf every time, but this last time I figured I’d buy them to find out if it would stop.” He shook his head.

Svala fingered the end of the wrappers with a subtle smile. “That’s not so strange.”

Their eyes met across the table and the second her expression grew serious, he turned away. “It’s
not
, Trym. You miss him. That’s perfectly natural. Maybe you need to talk about it.”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Why not?”

He avoided her question, nodded to the Twinkie and lifted a single eyebrow. “You’re not seriously thinking about eating that, are you?”

She smiled. “Maybe we should save them, until he comes back.”

Trym pressed his lips together, frowned, and returned to sorting his bills. “Yeah, maybe.”

It never occurred to Svala until now, after Alrik’s visit, that it wasn’t Trym’s subconscious that insisted on placing the Twinkies in his grocery cart. It was Alrik, trying to tell Trym he was still around, keeping an eye on them.

Svala released the Twinkie and bit her lower lip. “I should probably just confront her. Ask her straight out. She’s been tip toeing around the subject, asking if he’s taking anyone special to the prom.”

“Right, the prom.” Trym simpered and looked up at her. “You’re not going to that, just so we’re clear.”

“What?
Why
?” Her voice pitched. She didn’t really care about the prom as such, but she and Viggo had already talked about how special it would be to finally go together. “I need to keep an eye on Freja,” she argued.

“And Viggo, right?” Trym looked up at her and shook his head. “No. Definitely no.”

“But he already asked, and I already accepted. Wouldn’t that be breaking a promise?” She met his gaze with mischief. “You always taught me never to break a promise.”

He held her gaze and she could have sworn a smile lingered at the corner of his lips.

“We promise to behave.” She leaned in over the table with a pout. “Please, Trym.”

Trym sighed and pressed his lips together. “I’ll think about it, but I won’t promise you anything I won’t be able to keep.”

1982

New York

Svala motioned to the beige velvet couch in the living room. She’d invited Viggo over earlier that day, saying they had to talk. Viggo scanned the typical 1940’s British design in the high ceiling living room. Floral wallpapers in muted green covered the walls and the decorations sparsely spread through the large room in Trym’s meticulous fashion.

“Honey, you better sit down for this,” Svala said.

Viggo frowned. “Why?”

Trym stood by the cream colored bookshelf a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest. Judging by the strained expression on his face, Viggo couldn’t tell if he was upset or amused, or both.

Svala reached out and offered Viggo’s hand a light squeeze. “Just sit down, honey.”

Trym’s gaze followed the movement of their hands, but he made no attempt to prevent the interaction. Viggo was surprised Trym allowed him over in the first place, and when Svala called, he’d assumed she’d be alone. Their odd behavior made his stomach tighten. “Did something happen? Is this about Freja?” he asked.

Svala held onto his hand and urged him to sit on the couch. He obliged, but his patience was running out. “What’s going on?” He shifted his gaze to Trym. “Why won’t you tell me?”

Trym cleared his throat and lowered his gaze. Viggo discerned a smile but it dissolved before it fully registered. The silence lingered, so Viggo turned to Svala, annoyed. “Could you tell me already?”

Svala studied him in silence, as if considering a good way to present the information. “I talked to Freja the other day.” She paused and took a deep breath. “She confessed she’s in love with you.”

Viggo froze with his mouth dropped open. Svala had argued Freja’s romantic interest in him for two years but he didn’t see it, and Freja’d never said anything to confirm it. Besides, his daughter was different, she didn’t care about boys like that.

Svala placed her other hand on top of his, clutching it between both of hers. The color drained from Viggo’s face as her words slowly registered. Over by the bookshelf, Trym lost the fight over his smile, and Viggo turned to him, lips tightened. Trym struggled against his reaction but failed, and Viggo controlled his annoyance by ignoring Trym, and turning to Svala. “Are you sure you didn’t misunderstand?”

“I know it’s awkward, Vig, but I
did
warn you. You’re always so nice to her, and you’re... well, you’re kind of good looking...” She moved closer on the couch, her cheeks flushed.

“Hey!” Trym stepped forward. “Back to the subject, and no more hand holding.” He gestured to their enjoined hands.

Svala pulled back. Viggo’s head throbbed as fragments of his conversations with Freja over the years revisited him.
How much was he to blame for her infatuation? Had he encouraged her?
He winced when he considered some of the things he’d said to her, and how she’d reacted. He never once thought about it as romantic interest.

“What do we do about it?” His voice didn’t hold.

Svala pressed her lips together and lingered before she spoke. “I’m afraid there is more.”

Trym fought against his smile, and Viggo turned to him. “What? You find this amusing?”

Trym shook his head, his eyes betraying him. “No, not at all.”

Svala offered Trym a silent warning, then reached out for Viggo’s hand again. “The thing is...she wants you to ask her to the prom.”

Viggo’s brows drew together; he’d expected something far worse than that. “So? That’s not so bad. I could do that.”

“No.” Svala shook her head.

“Why not? It’s just a dance. If it’ll make her happy, I don’t see the problem.”

“Come on honey, you can’t do that. You’ll only get her hopes up and she’ll think there is something wrong with her when she finds out you’re not interested. What will you do when she tries to kiss you?”

“She wouldn’t do that. She’s not like that.”

Svala sighed.

“She’s not.”

She held his gaze. “I don’t know if I should tell you this...”

“Tell me what?”

“Well.” She squeezed his hand tighter. “Don’t freak out, but when she told me all this, she confessed that she’s hoping for something more to happen. On prom night.”

Viggo didn’t follow. “What do you mean?”

“Something she wants to lose?” She tried.

“Lose? Why would she want to lose something?”

Trym sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Her virginity. She’s hoping you’ll...take it.”

Viggo stood swiftly and raised his voice. “She’s hoping for what?”

Trym covered his mouth with his hand, and Viggo turned to him. “Oh, don’t you dare smile.” He turned back to Svala. “She’s
sixteen
years old. She shouldn’t be thinking about having sex.”