The book was flying for his head before she acknowledged the desire to punch him. "You're horrid," she hissed out, temper flaring again in her dark eyes, more at the fact that he was laughing at her than for what he said. She couldn't be angry for what he'd said, for he'd done no more than voice her own thoughts aloud. Her father was a fool, although she could never speak those words aloud. He'd been so thrilled when his only daughter had struck up a friendship with the princes, hoping that Sif would bring the connections he feared lost to him when his wife had failed to give him a son.

Sif had been thrilled that she might actually accomplish something in his eyes until she realized that not even in this could she live up to his expectations. This dinner tonight only further cemented that knowledge and she seethed that even Loki laughed at her for trying.

Not to mention he'd brought up one of her sorer spots, that of her flat chest. It was a good thing she didn't wish to be a maiden, for she was sure she'd have no luck at it. The times Loki had compared her face to that of a horse were beyond number and while she appreciated the fact that she hadn't gained any womanly curves yet while she was fighting and cinching into armor, it was something she was self-conscious of whenever she was near other girls her age, like Amora and Lorelei and Brunnhilde. Or whenever her father pointed out her lack.

"I wish you to return my hairpins," she snapped, fingers curling into fists at her side once more as she barely restrained the urge to punch him. "Leave my father out of this. If you're going to return them, then do so. If not... Forget it. I don't know why I bothered. I will see you tonight, Prince." Her voice was filled with temper and disdain as she shot him a look that, had it been a dagger, would have caused him most grievous injury. She spun on her heel, blond braid bouncing against her spine as she stalked back towards the door, fuming with anger and humiliation.