“Wha—”
But as she spoke the bird flew through the sheer curtains surrounding her bed and departed through the hospital’s only exterior door. A door she knew had been shut before the healers left for the evening. Vali was the only other soul in the room, resting in a bed he had pushed next to hers as his body sprawled like a sea star beneath the covers. His snores muffled the sound of the bird’s flutter.
The bird danced through the entry, hopping on its talons as it peeked around the door.
Just what I need—anotherdamn bird’s attention.She fell back onto the pillow and pressed her eyes shut, determined to ignore the falcon and the attentive eyes disturbing her rest.
Until it snagged her exposed side with its sharp beak.
She jerked against the pinch, and Vali choked as she roused him. She glared at the bird, but it only fluffed its wings like a shrug and quietly flew from the room in the same direction as before.
Once the elfin had soothed back into a steady, albeit noisy rhythm, she gathered a thin blanket on top of the bed and wrapped it around her shift. If there was no chance of getting rid of the little beast, she would just have to see what it wanted. Whatever concerned the falcon, it obviously did not desire to include Vali in their private meeting.
The nights were colder in Alfheim, even colder than in Jotunheim, as the sun drifted far from the Highest Branch. Her breath fogged white against the star filled night as she stepped onto the balcony overlooking the western side of the castle. The tile was damp with dew from the sudden change in temperature, from the warm day to the freezing night. Ailsa crossed the balcony in search of the falcon, realizing too late the bird was not a bird at all.
Cold fingers wrapped around her mouth to muffle her scream.
“Hush, it’s all right. I’m not here to hurt you, Ailsa. I just want to speak in private,” a voice dripping with venom spoke in her ear. The sound was convincing enough to cease her struggle against the solid body subduing her thrashing.
With his hand still over her mouth he asked, “If I remove my hand, do you promise not to scream and wake up Vali? I have something very important to ask you—and you alone.”
She heaved a flustered sigh and nodded. Her assailant slowly peeled his fingers away from her lips as she spun around, placing a face to the voice. It was a man slightly taller than Vali, with fair hair long and slicked back, bound in a low ponytail. His eyes were a fierce green, bold and cunning. A thin smile slithered across one cheek.
“It is a pleasure to meet the cause of all the gossip in Asgard.” He gave a small bow. “I am Loki, god of—”
“Odin’s fucking eye,” Ailsa gasped.
Loki’s stoic expression crumbled in perplexity. “Um, no. Not quite. I was going to say god of mischief but—”
“I know who you are,” she laughed, silencing the sound with a hand over her mouth. Her laughter died when she noted the nick on her hand. “You made me bleed.”
“Well, it’s hardly my fault you sleep like a troll.” He leaned against the glass railing tinted a seafoam green. “And sleeping quite close to Odin’s least favorite son, I see. He will not be pleased to hear of this recent development.”
“I thought the Allfather could see everything. This should hardly surprise him.” She leaned over the railing some feet away, staring into the sky and wondering if he was looking down on them even now.
“You are the one thing in all of creation he cannot see. The gold witch made sure he could never find her magic, not by his own means anyway. That is the greatest power of all, if you ask me.”
“To be concealed?”
“To hide. Just as Fenrir has hidden from him all this time somehow.”
Ailsa wrangled against the smile forming on her face. “You mean you wish you could just do this sometimes?” She made an obscene gesture toward the sky and Loki’s eyes lit up with delight.
“Oh, I’d do that to his face,” he said, mimicking her offensive sign. “Followed by a few words not appropriate for your delicate, feminine ears.”
Her breath sang between her teeth in pretense. “I have words in my vocabulary that would make even your greasy hair curl.” She cleared her throat to end the banter. “Why are you here, Loki? And why are you wearing a coat of feathers?”
He regarded his cloak made of the same feathers as the falcon. “Oh, this? This is Freya’s coat. Allows the wearer the ability to fly anywhere in falcon form. I’m quite envious of it.”
Ailsa’s brows kissed. From the legends, she was told the god could shift into anything he desired. “Can’t you just shapeshift into a falcon?”
He rolled his grassy eyes, like this wasn’t the first time he had been asked such a question. “Yes, I can, but it’s not the same, and I enjoy taking things from Freya. Speaking of the goddess,” he reached into his coat and pulled out a glass jar topped with a lid. Inside was barely a gulp full of a golden liquid. “I also brought something else of hers.”
Ailsa stepped closer to look at the jar. “Is that—”
“Freya’s tears, straight from the source.” He winked before tucking it safely back in his coat pocket.
“What are you doing with her tears?” Ailsa asked warily. She took a guarded step back.