Chapter 4 - Servitude


Sigyn knew it was petty of her, but she couldn't help but shed a few tears in the bath the next morning. Fear-sweat and fine perfume were lost alike in the warm soapy water; her curls wilted away in the steam.

Better to cry here than in front of her fellow servants. The palace staff led comfortable lives, hence her access to hot running water and a private bathing room. But after wearing silk and arguing with a prince it was surprisingly difficult to go back to a life she'd always found more than satisfactory.

Sigyn massaged shampoo into her hair, then eased back into the steaming water to let it wash lather and tension away. She ducked her head all the way under to wet her tear-streaked face, then sat up, tipping back her head and letting the water stream down over her back. She wiped her eyes with one hand while blindly groping for the shampoo bottle with the other.

Her fingertips found the crisp stiffness of straight-fiber wool gabardine, and beneath it the yielding warmth of a man's thigh.

Shrieking, Sigyn yanked back her hand and drew herself into a ball in the middle of the tub, staring slack-jawed at Loki, who was casually perched on the edge of the bathtub studying her shampoo bottle.

"Were you looking for this?" he said, offering it out. He was formally dressed, missing only his coat. From his manner, Sigyn might have been dressed in her prison clothes.

Sigyn spoke through a jaw clenched with fear. "What are you doing here! ...Your Highness."

"I needed to brief you before you started work, and you'd be surprised how difficult it is to discreetly speak with a servant alone. How can you bear to live the way you do, packed together like sardines?"

Something about his casual disinterest in her nakedness made her feel absurd about her modesty. There was not a single inch of the palace that was off limits to the heir of Asgard, and so she had no logical grounds to order him away. She tried to relax, as much as she could without uncurling from her fetal position.

"What do I need to know?" she said crisply. If he could affect dignity in his nightclothes, she could pretend it in a bathtub.

"All forty-nine women have scheduled auditions of a sort. It seems we have not one but four sorceresses in our midst, so I'll need you to pay special attention to their activities in the interim. How good is your memory?"

"Good enough. Give me names and descriptions, including clothing if you can." Yes, let us include clothing. Clothing would be very nice, just now.

"Jora, Dagny, Berit, Eydis." Loki ticked them off on his elegant fingers; no gloves today, or if so he hadn't yet put them on. "Jora, in particular, I want you to watch. Jolinn's sister. She has dark skin and long felted locks gathered low on her neck. Dark green dress."

"Wearing your colors already, is she? Presumptuous."

Loki gave her a sidelong smile. "Dagny is extraordinarily small, childlike, carries a fan. Hair almost snow-white, skin the same, ivory dress."

"Does she glow in the dark?"

"She may on our wedding night," he teased, eliciting a disgusted snort from Sigyn. "Berit has a golden dress, a ruddy, freckled complexion, and hair... hm. Somewhere between blood and fire. Strongly built; I suspect she would do well with a sword."

"Let us hope we have no cause to find out."

"And Eydis is tall but slender, pale and raven-haired, dressed in blue to bring out her eyes. Positively drowning in sapphires. Do you think you can pick these women out?"

"I'm sure of it."

"Excellent. Now." He lifted a hand, a light downward stroking motion in the air between them, and said softly, "Close your eyes."

She knew that being blind in Loki's presence was a terrible idea, but she also knew that his tolerance of her was precarious, and so she did as she was told. The moment her eyes closed, her other senses seemed to sharpen almost painfully. Her mouth was dry and bitter; Loki smelled of sweet wine and expensive soap. She could suddenly feel every wet exposed inch of her skin, and she prickled all over with gooseflesh.

After a moment she realized she was holding her breath, and slowly let it out. She wasn't sure what she expected, but it certainly wasn't... nothing. What was he doing?

"May I open my eyes yet?" she asked. There was no response. "Highness?" She waited another moment, then gave in and opened them without permission.

Loki was gone.


The sunroom was so named for its glass-domed ceiling, which not only let in Asgard's brilliant daylight, but was designed in the form of a stylized sun with eight jagged rays. Sigyn had catered events there before - it was just the right size for parties of fifty to seventy-five souls and thus saw use several times a year - but she had never seen it decorated so extravagantly or populated with such a parade of Asgardian beauties.

As she'd suspected, snowy-haired Dagny was the easiest to spot; she flitted from group to group like a butterfly, gossiping and giggling and befriending everyone with no apparent bias. Sigyn took care not to dismiss her completely, but she did not waste much time eavesdropping on her conversations, which contained about as much substance as the elegant gestures she continually made with her lacy fan.

When Sigyn spotted Eydis, she almost choked with laughter. In describing her, Loki had failed to mention how very like him she was. One of Asgard's greatest beauties indeed. She had a shrewd, clever look about her, so Sigyn tried to work her way gradually closer to hear her conversation, bearing a tray laden with goblets of red wine. Most of the women took wine from the tray as she passed without even glancing at the one who held it.

As Sigyn neared the raven-haired beauty, she was distracted by the sound of Loki's laughter. She glanced over to find him lounging at ease in a velvet-upholstered armchair, one leg slung casually over its arm as he leaned his elbow on the other. Three voluptuous women hovered near him, cooing and fluttering like doves, and his gaze roved well below the level of their eyelines.

Ah, troll's breath, was that - no. She hadn't glanced at his lap. She hadn't seen - no. She certainly wasn't going to look again to confirm how very interested he seemed to be in the conversation, she was not - oh heavens, there was no mistaking it, the plump strawberry-blonde in front of him had his full attention.

"Watch out!"

Sigyn looked toward the warning too late to avoid a collision. As though some cruel sorcery had slowed time, she watched in horror as the goblet closest to the edge of the tray wobbled, rotated elegantly on its slender stem like a pirouetting maiden, and then... pitched over the side to drench the front of Eydis's blue dress.

"Milady!" Sigyn gasped. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry!" She cringed, expecting harsh words or even a blow. When she looked up she saw worse: the woman's pale eyes had filled with tears. They were so like Loki's, though more blue-gray than green: a cloudy sky, now raining. The sorrow in those eyes wrung Sigyn's heart.

"Oh no," Eydis cried, stricken. "Oh no! This is my only dress!"

Sigyn thought of the one she'd worn, a similar shade and now useless to her. They weren't the same size, but possibly - no. She didn't dare draw attention to herself as a former guest; she'd already failed badly enough at invisibility. She ducked her head and stammered a few more apologies, but Eydis had already moved from grief to anger, her eyes going ice-hard.

"I'll have you sacked!" she threatened. "You incompetent little- What is your name!"

"My lady, my lady." Loki was there before Sigyn could answer, his hand gentle on the woman's wrist. "Shhh."

Eydis looked up at him, tears like diamonds on her sooty lashes.

"Dear, clever lady," said Loki soothingly. "Wine cannot douse your light; your treasures are found here." He tapped a fingertip gently on her forehead, and the sun came out from behind the clouds in her eyes.

"Ahh, my prince," she sighed. "You silver-tongued rogue, you."

"Come with me," he said. "You're of a size with my mother; I'm certain we can find you something suitable to wear."

Sigyn hardly had time to process the look of stunned incredulity on Eydis's face before Loki had taken her arm and whisked her out of the room.

With the prince absent, the very walls seemed to emit an exhale of relief. The women set to chattering animatedly at one another, picking him apart, analyzing his flaws, joking about him in tones that ranged from lewd to downright disrespectful. Green-clad Jora, Sigyn noticed, did not seem inclined to join in the talk and merriment; she was seated by herself, nursing a glass of wine and staring dully at the wall. Berit's conversation, on the other hand, carried all the way across the room.

"Oh I doubt he's interested in any of us," she was saying. "From what I hear, he's already given his heart and his cherry both, to someone with a very. Big. Hammer." She punctuated each word with a crude thrust of her hips, sending the girls around her into a frenzy of scandalized giggles.

"I'd be happy to entertain the both of them," one of them said breathlessly.

"I know a woman who makes some very interesting toys," Berit boasted. "If the crown prince wants me to tie him face-down and show him some thunder I'll be happy to oblige."

The girls shrieked fit to bring down the glass ceiling, and then shushed each other frantically as Loki and Eydis returned. Eydis was pink from her forehead to the low neckline of her new teal-green dress, and Sigyn didn't care to speculate as to why.

Once again the room's conversations became appropriately decorous, and Loki circulated politely. When the time came for the cleaning staff to set up the stage for the talent presentations, Loki excused himself from the room again - alone this time - and Sigyn found a shadowy corner from which to watch the proceedings.

"Did you discover anything?" said Loki's voice just beside her ear. She startled, and turned. She saw not Loki, but a nondescript male servant leaning against the wall next to her.

"Beg pardon?" she said to the servant.

"Don't waste time gawking at my tricks," the man said impatiently in Loki's voice. "Report."

Sigyn gave one last bewildered glance to the door where Loki had just departed. "I haven't had enough time yet to form strong opinions," she said, "but your absence certainly helped. Jora seems to be genuinely numb with grief; she hardly said a word to anyone. Berit has appetites to match her hair and not a hint of decorum. I seriously doubt little Dagny is our culprit; she's got a head full of fluff."

"Perhaps that's how she avoids suspicion. Any thoughts on Eydis?"

Sigyn slanted him a look. "The one you whisked away to undress?"

"The one you tripped over."

"Do you have any particular thoughts? About her appearance perhaps?"

Loki looked at her blankly. "Should I?"

"At the opening ceremony, you picked her out from the crowd in a matter of seconds, did you not?"

"If you have a point, my ugly little duckling, I'd strongly suggest you arrive at it before my patience runs out."

"Highness, she could almost be your sister."

Loki smiled, but there was no humor in it. "That, I severely doubt. But I thank you for what I assume is a weak attempt at flattery."

"And you'd know nothing of flattery, Sir Wine-Doesn't-Douse-Your-Light?"

"I am Loki of Asgard. I invented flattery."

"How much skill does it really take to compliment women such as these? When faced with a true challenge, I've noticed you abandon honey in favor of vinegar soon enough."

"Your hair is a lovely color," Loki said blithely.

"Oh, honestly." Sigyn puffed out an annoyed breath, turning away. "It's blonde."

"Pale, but hardly a hint of gold in it. Like saltwater taffy, or - cream, with just a splash of coffee."

"All this tells me is that you skipped breakfast."

Loki was silent for a moment, and when he spoke again it was at half volume.

"There is the most perfect shape, like the furled petal of a moonflower, in the valley between your collarbone and the slope of your shoulder. When you bathe, water collects there like dew on a chilled glass." He leaned in and, barely above a whisper, murmured, "How fortunate, the man who might bend to that cup to slake his thirst."

The air thickened in Sigyn's lungs; blood rushed to her face. She tried to form a response, but her tongue seemed to cling to the roof of her mouth.

Loki leaned back against the wall. She couldn't look at him. If she saw his smug expression she would fly apart completely, and so she fixed her gaze on the far side of the room. Eydis was there, in her new blue-green dress, but - something was the matter. Dagny was hovering over her and fanning her; Eydis seemed flushed and distressed.

"Highness," said Sigyn sharply. "Look to Eydis. Something is wrong."

A green shimmer passed over Loki's illusory form, and the black-haired prince strode out from the shadows. No one seemed to notice anything amiss about his sudden appearance; all eyes were on Eydis now as she let out a cry and put her hands to her head.

Loki swept past the women crowding her. "Give her some air!" he ordered.

"I was trying!" cried Dagny.

Loki gently helped Eydis from her chair. "What is it?" he asked, his eyes searching her face. "Come, let us go to the balcony."

"My head..." she gasped. "Ah, it hurts! I, ahhh!-" She stiffened briefly in Loki's arms, her face going blank; then Loki supported her weight as she drooped limply against him.

"Someone fetch the healers!" the prince barked, and a guard took off running. Loki cradled Eydis, looking down at her. "Help is coming," he said, but Sigyn knew by looking at the woman's face - and at Loki's - that the raven-haired beauty was already dead.