PAPER TIGER, PAPER SWORDS-

BOOK TWO

Five days later I am roused from an uneasy sleep by Sigg, who has adapted to Odin-King's nightmares by completely ignoring my orders that I am not to be disturbed in the morning.

Being cut open in my dreams becomes being shaken in reality. Sigg endures me trying to hex him with rather good sprits. He shouts Odin's name until I understand who he is and quit trying to set him on fire.

"Damn it." I rub my chalky eyes. My nightgown is stuck to my skin in a damp, cloying mess. Thank the Fates Frigga is still sleeping elsewhere. My throat hurts.

"Forgive me, Your Majesty," Sigg pants. He's trembling.

"You know, I've killed men with magic. Try banging on the door next time, or throwing rocks."

"Yes, Sire. No, Sire. I tried knocking and you did not wake." His round young face softens into childish worry. "I beg your pardon. Has Her Majesty our Queen suggested a visit to Matron Eir—?"

"Her Majesty the Queen doesn't know." I wipe dried tears from my face. I can still smell that reptilian stink. My skin is too hot, sticky and stretched out.

"Perhaps—" begins Odin's attendant.

"You are not to tell her."

" . . . Yes, sir. Sir? Princess Freya humbly requests the High King's presence. The Vanir witches have spotted a fleet entering the planet's orbit."

I jolt from the damp sheets. "Chitauri?" A shiver ripples across my back.

Sigg says, "No, sir. A Dvergr fleet."

"Dwarves?" Oh, Fates. It's the second attack. I scrub my face with both hands. "Has Chieftain Aumdyn sounded alarm? Tell Freya to launch all ground-to-orbit—"

He grabs my shoulder. His fingers burn.

I snatch my arm back. "Don't touch me!"

"Sire! They've hailed for landing. It's the warriors. Prince Thor is with them."

For the second time in five minutes the universe collapses under my feet.

Thor? How? What are the Dwarves doing coming to Vanaheim?

I dress in a hurry, ignoring Sigg's protests that there is time yet before I must meet them in the great hall. I slip through the palace to the landing pad as Nibelung's shuttles touch down in fiery blasts. The Dvergr king disembarks, oozing smugness. Thor is right beside him, true enough, dressed for battle—and it isn't just Thor but Frigga's brother, Prince Frey, Lady Sif and the Idiots Three. Chieftain Tyr follows them, and there are hundreds more from the other ships. This is our army.

"Next time, you overgrown breadmonger," Nibelung says as I and a dozen royal guards stride up to meet them, "you give me your bifrost's technology and I will get these suckling babes home to their mothers by supper."

Jane Foster slips past my left side to throw her arms around Thor's neck. He squeezes her in a hug while the two parties—warriors and survivors—commingle in frantic desperation.

"The foul odor in your flagship," Thor says as if he's been dealing with Dwarves his entire life, "makes me fear giving you a bifrost, least you spread your stink upon unsuspecting innocents." He is not looking at Nibelung or Jane, however. His eyes mark my skull a target. He's carrying his hammer.

Thor looks much worse than I remember him. There are dark rings under his eyes. His skin is waxen. He is almost gaunt, somehow, although one would be hard-pressed to ever use that word on him. He meets my gaze and says nothing. I force my attention to Nibelung. Thor won't do anything in public. If he meant to kill me outright he'd have tried already. "Why did you come back? I did not take you for that much of a fool."

The Dvergr smiles. "I am like you, Odin-Asgard. I also do not go back on my word. You may call it pride."

"Alfheim has sided with my enemy. As has Jotunheim. As will Muspelheim and Niflheim. Your pride would bind you to one king against five?"

"For now," Nibelung agrees. He glances at our cohort, and says in an undertone, "You are being direct, so I will do it also. I confess to being somewhat in a corner, Odin Borson. If I chase Alfheim in turning my back upon you why should your enemy trust me, eh? But . . . if I follow you and, when you are defeated by these five kings against your one, your enemy will offer me a place if I too turn my back upon you. Then, and only then, I shall indeed turn my back to you."

I salute the Dvergr king with a psychotic smile. "I am glad we are being honest. I think I like you better this way." Then I call to Thor to head off impending disaster, "Your Highness, I would speak with you alone. I am certain you know about which subject."

"Stay with my mother," Thor orders his mortal. He trades her embrace for Frigga's, momentarily caught up by the happy reunion, but by the time I reach the empty palace steps he's on my trail. Frigga tries to go after us, but Thor waves her back with an angry scowl.

He follows me into an abandoned corridor. There, before I can say anything, he seizes me by the neck and hurtles me into a wall.

Plaster crunches. Dust showers my hair and face. "Have some sense!" I sputter. "My chamber is just ahead—"

"Drop the disguise!"

"Let us not fight in public!"

He charges me. I pivot to one side but he hooks my arm and smashes my head into the plaster. Twice. Three times. Four. Supernovas erupt in my skull. He leaves me dizzy, lets me slide to the floor, tangles one hand in my official robes and lets his weight crush the air from my lungs. Blind, dumb, I hold out an arm as his hammer raises. Blue sparks ignite around us.

"Turn back! I will smash your head!" Mjolnir is a double image above my bleeding face. "Do not make the mistake to think me jesting. Turn back, or I will kill you."

"Ergh, your breath smells like Dvergr scorpion bread."

He shoves me. I claw at his arms, struggling to pry myself out from under him. Thor is much stronger than I. He keeps me in place with no effort at all. "Turn back."

I drop my Odin Mask.

Thor's eyes get huge, although he had to know what he'd find. His teeth grind together. He reaches for my face—then lowers his hand.

I say, "How did you come to realize?"

"Elegant," he grates out, like a curse. "When the Elves betrayed us. You are lucky none know you so well as I. Who but Loki would ever praise his betrayer? Certainly not our father."

"'Elegant'?" I don't remember blurting that into the audio pickup.

Thor grips my collar with his free hand. Not to hurt, but the threat is there that he can strangle me if he wants. "Where is our father?"

"You mean your father? I killed mine, or have you forgotten?"

He slams me into the floor. I feign a stunned slump to curl under his guard—then spring left, aiming for the gap beneath his left arm. His fist plows into my ribs as I roll upright and the hall spins on its axis. I twist to compensate, lurching away from him. He's got me by one shoulder. Through sheer accident my right fist collides with his left cheekbone hard enough to knock his head sideways. Thor swings with Mjolnir—

The cosmos sears white. I split my lip on the floor at his feet and shove myself upright, but my left arm collapses under me and I crack my forehead on the adjoining wall. Thor grabs my robes and drags me round onto my back. He kneels on my chest, hammer raised for a second blow.

I move to shove him off. My left arm won't obey. It's a dead heap at my side.

"Where is Father?" Thor rages.

"You broke my arm!" I yelp.

"Tell me, Loki, or I will break your skull."

"That really hurts!"

He shakes me. "I loved you once. No longer. You—"

"I've hated you for centuries—"

"No more tricks!" The hammer cocks again, threatening to redecorate the corridor with my brains. "Where is Father?"

"In the Void. Verifying that I am not the worthless liar everyone thinks I am." Fresh panic unrolls at the base of my throat following that assertion. At this point, honestly, I suspect Odin is dead.

Thor clenches his fist around my jaw and smashes me down again. He searches my bleeding face. I keep my expression impassive, although I'd like nothing better than to wipe that self-righteous look from his eyes.

What's the first rule? Play dead. You know how to survive a beating.

Thor is silent. He's waiting to see if I'm going to start cackling or—I don't know—confess to his face that I've murdered his father in the King's own hall and taken the throne for laughs. Evil is as evil does, I suppose. When he does relax his grip, I shove his fist from my jaw with my good hand and make to sit up.

He pushes me down.

Thor's watchful expression sharpens to edged steel and something dark, unpleasant flickers in his eyes. "I thought you dead."

"Funny how I keep disappointing you that way."

His teeth grind. "Why have you done this?"

I sneer. "Someone had to lead Asgard, and since you'd rather play with your mortal wife than uphold your grandfather's empire—"

He squeezes my shoulders as if he can force me into a different shape by brute strength. His eyes are glassy with hatred. "You stole Father's crown!"

"I offered you the throne and you refused it!"

"Liar!"

"After you left Svartalfheim and abandoned me to rot on the sand, I went to get Father!" I make sure to use the term Father but it takes effort. "I told him about Thanos. Yes. I told Thanos I would retrieve the Tesseract for him, but I betrayed Thanos by ensuring your precious Avengers took me captive instead. Father went into the Void to see if I spoke truth. The next morning you sought an audience with the King. It was I who gave you the throne."

The hammer wavers. His breath hitches. "You gave me—"

"Your father granted me the hearing you did not, when you so proudly marched me home as a common criminal. Or didn't you notice that I had not been myself during our little adventure on Midgard?"

Thor's horror is too little, too late.

I bare my teeth in a ghoulish smile. "It seemed the things I had to say proved worthwhile, after all. Fancy that. In exchange for my warning about Thanos's plans Father allowed me to go into hiding, but he banished me forever from Asgard. Haha—I suppose that isn't such a great loss now, is it?"

Thor's fist explodes into my head. I feel my nose crunch. "You mock me with your blatant lies! You stole Father's image to bring horror upon our people!"

"Why should I do that?" As bones and blood realign themselves I snarl, "Think! For one Fates-damned moment in your life, think!"

Thor draws back his fist.

I hold up a hand for peace. "True, I was supposed to leave Svartalfheim and not come back to Asgard, but I—hem. I wanted to see my funeral. Call it a guilty pleasure. Don't tell me you've never wanted to see the entire realm sob over your valiant corpse? Nobody sobbed for me, as it turned out. I suppose I shouldn't be shocked."

"No," Thor growls.

That hurts.

"No, I have never wished to see anyone sob over my corpse," he clarifies.

I shrug, one-armed. "It's not all it's cracked up to be. You, though—" I add bitterly, "they would fling themselves to their deaths over the rimfall with you. Your funeral would be a national holiday to be mourned every year for all eternity. Because you're the precious perfect—"

"Enough of your blithering," he says. "Where is our king?"

"I told you. In the Void."

"Why, now that Asgard is fallen?"

I curl my lip. "What's this, are we asking Nameless questions now? Has anybody bothered to ask my opinion on anything before I put on a different face?"

Thor's brow knits, as if now that I'm back he can close his eyes and send me away again. He is no longer poised to crack my head, which I suppose counts as a small victory, but he does not let me up. He sets his shoulders. "Does Mother know?"

"Of course she does. Do you think I could fool Mother? Even if I could, I shudder at the trauma from keeping up his marital duties—"

"Then she has allowed you to rule while disguised as our father? I do not believe you."

"The Queen has appointed me Councilor Regent," I say. "The enemy will not forget that I cheated them on Midgard. For now, we are all in this together."

Thor glares me in the eye.

I relent, and explain what has transpired between his mother and I.

Thor bows his head. His grip tightens. "If ever I have cause to think that you led Asgard into a trap, I will cut out your serpent's tongue and let it flap in the dirt while you watch."

"If I had led you into a trap," I point out, "I could have teleported from the city when the Chitauri fleet arrived. I would hardly have waited around days after for you to cut out my tongue. I've been enduring the privy council's wanting to return to Asgard. I think a good tongue-cutting would be less mind-bogglingly stupid. I gave a speech to the public, you know. I did a good job. People cheered."

Thor's eyes darken but he releases me. His icy frown is still a hundred degrees from trusting, but he seems to weigh his words with great care before saying, "Loki, I do remember you warning us about the bifrost before Daina's legion disappeared. I apologize for asking but I must know. Did you steal the Casket of Ancient Winters? Chieftain Tyr believes that the Jotnar are working with Thanos, and I believe that he is correct, but you would have been on Asgard when the vault was plundered and considering your past dealings with that weapon . . ."

I put on a big cheery smile. "Yes, Thor. I stole the Casket. Byleistr and Helblindi Laufeyson would both benefit from a deal with Thanos, but I wanted to show my loyalty to the monsters who left me to die in the snow as an infant by stealing the damn thing for them. Gee, I hope they'll forget that I was the one who slew their father. Do you expect they'll forgive me?"

Thor reaches out to help me to my feet.

I can't let him get away that easy, not if I really were outraged. I accept the hand up, shove my palm into his sternum and force him backwards. Thor stumbles but keeps his footing. I push him again. "I have sacrificed more for Asgard than anyone! I have bled for our King! I would have died for our King. I would rather have killed myself than shame him."

"You murdered hundreds of innocents in your quest for domination!" Thor hauls me aside. "That was not for Asgard. Loki serves Loki alone."

"Truly? Than why have I stayed?"

He burns me with a flat stare. "You stayed because you knew I would kill you if you fled." Then he strides forward, forcing me to walk backwards ahead of him or be run over. I move to dodge left. Thor blocks me in. "Now I will lock you in a cell, where you belong."

I wheel around. "What would you do now—?"

He throws me ahead of him.

"Say you take command," I protest, "just until our father returns. Vanaheim has offered us shelter—ouch—but it won't last." I plant my feet. "The people are rattled, pushed to the brink—"

"Move, Loki."

"—salivating for revenge."

He shoves me with Mjolnir, which is unwarranted. I stagger. Thor grabs the back of my neck and pushes me onward.

I stammer, "What's left of the Red Council has been pressuring me to retake Asgard. Supplies have been sorted, but we have a sudden influx of warriors. Nibelung means to stand by our side—for now. What's Thor-King's next move?"

"Find the Chitauri." Odin's son throws me around the corridor's bend and drags me toward the main hall by my collar. "The Chitauri will lead us to Thanos. Before you try bargaining for your worthless life with me, I will tell you that our own witches have found evidence that the Chitauri have left Asgard and are heading for Jotunheim. I intend to present this to the Council."

"Wrong."

"Be silent, Silvertongue!"

"I can't because my fate is tied up with yours. The Chitauri are drones, you buffoon. They're not running the game and neither is Thanos. At least, he isn't yet."

Thor drives me into a wall. A howl races up my healing left arm. He says, "And if I ask how you know this you will give me an explanation that makes perfect sense but ends with you crawling from your chains yet again. I think not."

"You would doom all our people for the chance at punishing me? Oh, so noble. My heroic brother!"

"And I am certain you are upset on their behalf," Thor hisses.

"No, I'm honored. All this time I've been trying to earn father's affection. All I needed to do was let you walk off a cliff and I'm the good son by comparison."

He visibly wavers.

"The assault on Asgard was clever, wasn't it?" I say. "I don't think I could have orchestrated better. Now listen, because this is important. Our enemy is smart and a smart enemy won't enjoy being yoked to an imbecile such as Thanos. Why, I bet you my life that the being who commands our enemy's forces will wait to break Thanos's prison until the last possible moment. She—or he, I suppose—will want time first to set the gameboard in her or his favor against the day when a power struggle comes between them. Will you take that bet? My life . . . in exchange for what? Let me think. Oh, I know! The spear, Gungnir. When you come into your throne, having vanquished our enemy, give me the True Spear."

"You presume that you will be alive and free when this war is over," Thor says. "I would not make that assumption."

"Just suppose. You can do that, can't you? Use your imagination. Suppose I am alive and suppose your father pardons me. Either way, right now you are in a very perilous situation. And yes, even more so than mine. You have much to lose. I have . . . nothing. Except my life. Brother, all of your usual methods of war will fail. You are dealing with an enemy unlike any you have faced before, save one. Me."

Thor mutters wordlessly.

"So I will make you this bet:" I say, "I will help you against her—or him—and if I mislead you you may take off my head. If I prove right, however, and it is through me that the Mighty Thor saves our people, give me Gungnir for my own."

Thor says, "You keep saying she. You think you know the identity of this enemy."

"Yes. Isn't it obvious?"

He blinks. "Smirna?"

"Yes. So. What was it you were saying about following the Chitauri to Jotunheim?"

"We must find Smirna," he says, instead.

"Yes. And how will you do that, O brother mine?"

"I will ask Heimdall."

"I already tried. Our enemy has hidden herself from him, just as I can. Smirna is no sorceress; I suspect she has found some ally through her new master. Probably the Other—a sorcerer with whom I, as it turns out, am intimately familiar."

Thor sighs. "I don't suppose Smirna is on Jotunheim."

"Please. Whatever would she need go to Jotunheim for? The Frost Giants are already Thanos's bedfellows. She's won the first battle. She'll expect that we honorbound Asgardians will blindly traipse after her minions straight into another trap, and she'll give the Frost Giants their revenge in the process. I bet the sons of Laufey are all but wetting themselves in anticipation for your fleet. They're probably setting their ambush now, preparing to slaughter what's left of us when you lead your army to Jotunheim hoping to find Thanos."

He glares.

I give him time to surrender with dignity.

Thor says, "And what would the Nameless One have us do?"

"Find Smirna. Obviously. I'd go to the Fringe. I've got connections there. You remember. I know people who can put me in touch with other people who breathe secrets in my ear. For the right price. But—oh. We can't go as ourselves, of course. You can just imagine how the ruffians of the Fringe would take to Shining Prince Thor and his supposed-to-be-dead companion. But again, I can help you with that."

Thor frowns at the floor—then at the ceiling. Anywhere that he doesn't have to look me in the eye.

"Don't despair," I say around the wall pressing against my left cheekbone. "There is an art to defeat. And from art, beauty. I should know."

"How?" he snaps. "You have never been defeated."

That makes me laugh. "War Academy, Two Flame Valley, the Rainbow Bridge—"

"I stopped you. Believe me, you would know the difference. You wouldn't brag of real defeat." Thor broods into space. At last his shoulders sag. "I will tell the War Council of our plan. Tyr will be in charge while we are gone. I will enlist a warband from the most elite warriors we have to guard you while we—"

"Good idea. The War Council will kill me and arrest you for helping me. Smirna will be terrified to hear of our downfall. I expect she'll turn herself in."

"Shut up."

"You know I'm right."

The rusty gears in his mind work overtime. He scowls at Mjolnir for a while before nodding to himself. "I will tell the Black Tower Guard. They do not report to Chieftain Tyr."

I snicker.

"Shut up."

"I didn't say anything."

Thor glances up and down the corridor. Oh, is the situation finally starting to kick in? He should have let me do this in my private suite, where no one might happen upon the Crown Prince plotting secret schemes with the deceased Nameless Traitor. Thor murmurs, "All right. Why not the Black Tower?"

I tell him about the spy. Neglecting the part where a spy would have fled Asgard before the Chitauri appeared.

Thor sighs again. "And why should I not tell the Vanir?"

"You may tell the Vanir."

A triumphant smile surges across his face.

"—If you want them to go scurrying to Odin-King and, in his absence, the War Council."

Thor gives a grunt of disgust. "And the Dwarves? Let us be thorough, since you have evidently spent a great deal of time preparing to trap me in a corner."

"Now you're just being irritating. Why do you think you shouldn't tell your instant new best friends the Dwarves that Thanos's missing lieutenant is alive?"

He glares.

I smile.

He looks away.

I say, "I will leave Tyr in command with the instructions—"

"I will leave him in command."

I pantomime a shocked councilman: " 'Why is Prince Thor ordering the War Council, and not his father? Oh, wait, Your Highness—what's that you say? Where is your father? Do you mean to tell us it's all a lie, and we've been taking orders from someone who isn't the Allfather, and you're planning to conspire with the Nameless—' "

"Shut up!"

We consider each other in angry silence.

I say, "If we leave Mother in charge—"

Thor says, "If I leave Mother in command—"

"—and give her specific instructions not to let Tyr follow the Chitauri to Jotunheim—"

"—I shall ask her to keep our people safe until I return—"

"—nobody has to get rearrested or dishonored."

At last he lowers his hammer.

I show my not-brother a hearty smile. "So! Are you ready to venture forth into terrifying unknowns in absolute secret with only a dangerous madman at your side?"

"No," Thor says.

"What? Why?"

Thor says, "First we are going to Midgard."

"Oh, I see. To deposit your mortal somewhere safer?"

He drops my arm. "Because I need help controlling you. And the mortals are not of Asgard."

"Mortals . . . which mortals?" This is turning out better than I hoped. I make dawning horror lurch up my face. "But—no. You can't. To the Fringe?"

"Yes."

"We're going to take your mortal warband to the Fringe? On Niflheim? A fog enshrouded realm of murderers and anarchy? The Avengers would sooner kill me than help us—"

"I will not let them," he vows.

I believe him.

Thank you, Thor.

. . . because now I have a group with a vested interest in keeping me alive.