4. The Taste of Treachery


"You need to think about what you want to achieve as the possible future king of Asgard." Lorelei's robe swished over Loki's ankles as he escorted her into the candlelit ballroom filled wide dresses and looped skirts, worn by duchesses and courtiers alike.

"I'll never be the King of Asgard." Loki felt his lip curl as he escorted the queen to a throng of ladies; they all immediately rushed to greet her with a bevy of various nonsensical statements.

"Such a crush, is it not?"

"What an incredible robe – you put the rest of us to shame."

"We never expected to see you here this evening, Your Majesty!" The last speaker was Freya, delivering her compliments with a toss of blue-black hair over her dark face; Loki thought she looked very beautiful as the color rose in her cheeks. The ice-blue satin she wore only accentuated the shadows in her cheeks and throat.

"I see your new son attends you," Skaði said to Lorelei with a wink. "How does it feel to have such a handsome boy?"

"Tell me, does he need succor in the middle of the night?" another lady added.

"Perhaps he wishes to crawl into your sheets after a nightmare…"

"I would not mind being woken by such a son!"

Their wit flowed on; Loki hid his disgust and beckoned for champagne. A servant popped a bottle open, and under cover of bubbles flowing into glasses modeled on the shape of Freya's breasts according to one cheeky courtier, he managed to make his escape. Only a few months earlier he would have accepted Skaði's come-hither glance and twirled her onto the dance floor with the other merry couples; Frigga's death had changed him into a more serious creature. And so as he regarded the laughing throng, Loki had the fancy he beheld two scenes with one laid over the other like gossamer: a version where he flirted and drank, and the true one with his present self who moodily stayed on the outside of the crowd, regarding the other guests as though they were a different species.

There were the Baldr twins, interlacing their fingers under the table in forbidden caresses as usual.

There was Iduna, displaying her ankles as she circled under Fandral's arm.

There was Ågir, approaching Freya with a hungry look on his lean face.

And Lorelei, who listened to Skaði prattle in her ear with her gaze fixed on Loki.

He turned away and saw at last what he sought all along. Natasha stood by Thor's side, her green eyes peeking from under her red hair like those of a creature hiding in the forest. His heart stuttered in his chest, and he started forward to claim her as his own; he felt as though there was a string between them, taut and thrumming with energy. But the moment was lost as several of the courtiers measured Natasha with sidelong glances; Loki watched one particularly nasty little duke mutter some poisonous comment just loud enough to be overheard. The skin of the huntress turned pale, and with one quick motion Thor compressed his lips and tugged her onto the dance floor and the safety of his arms.

Loki was left behind, gasping with anger. He was the one who should have been holding the flame-haired chasseuse, not Thor, and he watched from behind a pillar as the two swayed and circled in the movements of the dance, imagining a conversation filled with flirtation and heated innuendo. His fingers curled with fury, but he simply couldn't look away.

"Enjoying the party?" Freya handed him a glass filled with some sparkling drink; never taking his eyes off the two Loki tossed it down his throat.

"No." He held out the cup and she refilled it.

"I'm not surprised, since you choose to languish in the corner by yourself. Do you not see there are many who long to claim you as partner, Prince?"

He swallowed the second drink and squinted at her. "Are there?" Perhaps if Natasha saw him dally with some of the company she would appreciate his charms a bit more. Probably he came off as a dull dog – after all, when he went to visit a beautiful woman, he brought a book as a gift. A book!

"Brother."

Thor's voice broke into his thoughts, and Loki scowled. "Is it enjoyable to monopolize the most beautiful woman here?" Thor cleared his throat, and belatedly Loki realized Natasha stood behind him. He shook his head in an attempt to clear the fumes of drink from his mind. "That is, I …" For the first time in his life, Loki felt tongue-tied.

"The Queen approaches. I shall take her to dance. Meanwhile, why do you not show the huntress Fandral's gardens?" Thor winked and slipped away; a moment later Loki heard his brother's laugh answered by Lorelei's crystal tinkle of amusement.

"Are you going to show me the gardens?" Natasha's gaze was very direct. "Or a conservatory, perhaps? I am certain Fandral has a collection of etchings, if you are desparate."

Obviously she divined his intentions. Recovering his smooth manner, Loki held out his arm. "Just come with me for a breath of fresh air. I promise to return you safely."

She ignored his arm and strode out of the room with none of the lilting graces adopted by the women of the court. Loki followed as closely as he dared, and as they passed a wide window he indicated it. "Here. Let us go and stroll on the lawns for just a short time."

"Your Highness, I never 'stroll.'"

"So I see." Loki undid the catch, flung back the shutters, and jumped out of the casement onto the grass below; he held out his hands to catch her, but she ignored him and landed on her own. "By the by," he muttered, "I already asked you to call me Loki."

"Yes, of course you did." Natasha cleared her throat. "The truth is I don't do well in society or court appearances. Perhaps my job of chasing wild creatures has given me a touch of wildness myself, thus to languish inside a warm room with mirrors and candlelight is akin to being locked in a cage."

He allowed himself to imagine her on the hunt, prowling through the trees with sword in hand. The image made the blood rush to his sex, and he turned to hide his arousal. "I find it all tedious as well, but I have no woods nor means of escape. A prince must consider his time as belonging to the people, for them to schedule as they see fit."

Natasha stopped and looked out over the darkened lawns of Fandral's estate, and her firm line of lips softened. "I see. It must be very difficult – the feeling you are imprisoned by duty."

"Exactly." She was intelligent as well as lovely and wild; Loki felt himself sliding as though he skidded on ice and could no longer look at his world in quite the same way, ever again. "Huntress, although we live very differently you and I have far more in common than one would imagine."

A late nightingale bubbled with sweet song; two paperwhites glided over the meadow and threatened to alight in Natasha's hair. Gravely she considered him, and after a spell of silence she nodded. "Perhaps we do."

The birdsong died out, and silence surged back in its place – a moment filled with mystery as if they were about to open an ancient chest filled with treasure. Loki's lips parted, his breath quickened, his control fled. He wanted nothing more than to reach for her, to plunge his fingers into those curls, clasp her tiny figure to his, experience the sharp ecstasy of her mouth, the taste of her tongue…

"Loki! My son!" The trilling voice broke into their reverie. Loki groaned as Lorelei tripped across the grass, followed by an apologetic-looking Thor.

"The Queen insisted on finding you," he muttered as they grew close.

Loki's jaw hardened with frustration, and he turned to Natasha. All caution was gone; he was determined to make an assignation among her trees or his books, and there he would kiss her again and again, until they both were breathless…

No one stood next to him. Somehow the huntress Natasha Romanov had flitted away like the paperwhites.

Thus Loki allowed himself to be towed back to the glittering throng with Queen Lorelei and Thor. Someone popped a bottle of champagne and poured it into their glasses; a witty game involving the ladies' necklines was proposed. After several more drinks Loki felt his laughter growing louder and more reckless. The air grew warm and close, and everything whirled into a tumble of candlelight and bawdy company.

As for Natasha, it seemed she had disappeared from the party altogether.


With a loud groan, Loki covered his eyes. Broad sunlight streamed into the chamber, striping the sheets and the legs of the women next to him. He grunted and prepared to fall back to sleep, when …

Women next to him! What the merry devil…?

The prince jumped out of bed and seized the sheet to wrap around his hips. There among the crumpled covers lay the new queen and Freya. Both were asleep, and their faces bore the undignified marks of what must have been a thorough debauch from the night before. With a long stream of curses, Loki backed away from Lorelei's bed, crept out to the hall, and avoided the eyes of the guards outside the door. Praying he would meet neither Odin nor Thor, his footsteps pounded over the flagstones until with a sigh of relief he gained his room.

There he stripped, threw on a robe, and rang the bell for a bath.

As he lay in the warm water, Loki wondered what had happened the night before. After the first few drinks it was all a blur. Had he made a complete idiot of himself? And, worse, had Natasha seen his descent into madness? Or what if she and Thor had… With a strangled roar, Loki surged out of the bath. He toweled furiously, stepped into the first suit of clothes he could find, and strode out to find his brother.

He didn't have to go far. Thor's bellowing laugh was heard around the next corner; Loki ran smack into him and some tall, dark-haired woman who looked vaguely familiar. "Brother, I must speak with you," he began.

"Indeed! First, allow me to present the Lady Sif, here to represent the country of Vanaheim." Thor beamed and the lady bowed slightly.

Loki nodded. He was too distracted to notice much about her, other than her height and general impression of severe strength. "Brother," he repeated. "Alone."

"Very well." Thor murmured something to the Lady Sif and accompanied Loki to a nearby balcony. "What is it?"

"I must ask you what occurred last night," Loki gasped. He was almost afraid to hear the response.

"Ah, of course! I should have told you earlier. The Huntress Natasha felt out of sorts, and so she asked if she could leave early. Naturally I escorted her to the edge of the forest, and she assured me she could reach her house on her own." Thor twisted to his brother, a quizzical look on his face. "Do you think I did wrong? Should I have ridden with her to the place she lives?"

Loki shook his head. "She never saw me? Never saw how I …"

"No, I am sorry. She insisted it was time for her to leave after only one dance."

A glow of relief spread through Loki's limbs. It seemed he had escaped utter ruin; the lady had left before his disgrace and public drunkenness. "No matter," he mumbled. "I should have known better to trust such an important assignment to you."

Thor's response was a long bout of laughter and a clap on the shoulder. Loki left him with Lady Sif, determined to forget the hideous affair.

His satisfaction lasted until after dinner. As he prepared for an early night's rest, determined to wake early and find the elusive huntress, the door to his chamber opened and the new queen entered; with an impulsive movement, Lorelei ran to Loki's side. "I thought the king would never finish his dinner!" she cried before she flung her arms around his neck and pressed her red lips to his.

Loki stifled an oath and disentangled himself from her clutches. "I beg your pardon, madam."

Her eyes widened. "But last night!" she began.

"Last night was a drunken mistake. It is surprising you choose to bring it up at all." He thrust her to arms' length and stared at a spot over her head, hoping she would leave soon. Weariness from the late night and wine poured over him, and he wanted nothing more than his bed.

The wide, innocent look disappeared, and her fine brows puckered. "Should your father hear of this, he would be mightily displeased," the queen hissed.

"Indeed he would," Loki rejoined instantly. "But whom would he punish for it? I might be sent away from court, but an faithless queen is sure to lose her head." With a harsh, sudden movement he turned away, unable to look at her any longer. Lorelei was a reminder of his own indiscretion, lewd behavior symbolized by flesh.

"It is amazing what tales a wife can spin to lead her husband to a desired understanding," the queen began in a heated tone, but Loki interrupted.

"Enough. I am tired of this conversation. If I had been in my right mind, I can assure you this would never have happened."

"No?" Her voice softened once more, and she slid soft fingers around his arm. In his current mood they felt disgusting, like tentacles or slow-worms. "Are you so certain of that? For you were keen enough last night…"

"I said enough!" he shouted.

Lorelei snatched her hand away; he heard her quickened breath heave through her chest. "I see," she hissed. "Very well, I will leave you to your own devices. But if you think all is finished between us, you are sorely mistaken."

The ermine robe trailed behind her as she departed and slammed the door. Silence surged back in her absence, charged with regret and deep disappointment.