He could swear his heart grew thricefold. “You never have to ask. Hugs are always welcome.”
She launched herself at him then, almost knocking him over. With her little arms wrapped tightly around his neck, and her face pressed against his throat, she was choking him, but he could not care when she was giving him such delicious, wet kisses.
He returned her embrace, inhaling her little-girl fragrance of soft skin and the honey she must have eaten recently. Standing with her still in his arms, he turned to see Ianthe approaching.
“Oh, Sidroc, she is adorable,” she said, placing a hand on his arm and smiling up at his daughter, who was enjoying the height. He knew that Ianthe was barren, and seeing his little dearling must evoke pain in her. He reached out and drew her closer for a quick kiss on the top of her head.
He thought he heard a gasp, but when he turned to take Runa and Ianthe with him over to the bench, he saw that it was empty. He’d forgotten in the excitement of meeting his daughter for the first time that Drifa had been there, in the background.
But now Drifa was gone.
Some swearwords survive the test of time...
For hours, Runa led Sidroc around like a puppy on a leash. First he had to see the new kittens in the stable. Then her bedchamber, where she showed him her collection of colored stones. Then the pond, where there was a bullfrog that she described as huuuuuggggge!
Another hour or more was spent with him showing her the presents. A set of carved wooden farm animals. A miniature longship. A Greek girl’s gown with butterflies embroidered along the edges. A small box of marzipan candies. And a rope of colored stones, recommended by Ianthe; it could be wrapped around the neck as jewelry, or used as a belt. Runa was wearing it now across her forehead, tied in back, with tails hanging down past her neck.
The whole time he was getting acquainted with Runa, he kept looking for Drifa. She should be sharing this experience with him.
After that, King Thorvald enticed him into the great hall, where numerous toasts were being made to the heroes of the day. Not that Sidroc considered himself a hero. If he’d killed his father, deprived the earth of his cruel being, mayhap that would have been heroic, but all he’d done was slice off his father’s ear.
Dinner was about to be served when he’d had enough.
“Where is Drifa?” he asked the king.
“Is she not with Runa?”
Sidroc shook his head.
“Mayhap she went to the garderobe.”
“For four hours?”
The king shrugged. “One never knows what women do in there.”
He stomped off and saw Ianthe, who was just coming downstairs from the chamber that had been assigned to her and Isobel. “Have you seen Drifa?”
“I have not seen her since we arrived. She was standing on the shore last time I saw her,” Ianthe said.
“Nay, she was in the garden when I first met Runa. Remember?”
She shook her head. “I did not see her there.”
Sidroc was starting to get a bad feeling.
“What? Why do you have that odd expression on your face?” Ianthe asked him.
“Vana hinted that I might have done something to make Drifa jealous.”
“Jealous? Of what?”
He ducked his head sheepishly, then set his gaze on her.
“Me?” Ianthe squeaked out.
“You and Isobel.”
“Why would Drifa be jealous of ... oh, can you be such an idiot? Drifa was expecting you to come for her, wasn’t she?”