Page 124 of Heart of Mischief

Mason hit the stone wall; he could retreat no farther. Loki came to a stop inches away from him. Earlier, Charlie had thought that they were about the same height, but Loki seemed to tower over her brother now. Had she been wrong before? Or had the god somehow made himself taller?

“You know nothing,” Loki whispered, his voice seething, “nothingof who I am as a father. Of what I’ve done for my children. You know only what the godswantyou to know, and what they’ve wanted—what they’vealwayswanted—is to cast me as the villain. To make the world believe that I am the root of all evil and misdoings, even after everything I did for them. Even after I made them who they are.”

“I don’t—” Mason started.

“You speak of Balder’s murder,” Loki interrupted. “No doubt you’ve heard the version of the story where I trick Frigg into revealing that mistletoe can harm him, and then fool Balder’s blind brother into throwing the dart?”

Mason’s head bobbed in a tiny nod.

Charlie was shocked that Mason knew this much about Norsemythology. She’d thought that she was alone in her obsession, but Mason must have been doing exactly what she was, just one wall over.

“You know what’s so funny about that story?” Loki asked, straightening so that he wasn’t looming right in Mason’s face. “Everyone believes it. Even if they’ve read all the other stories about me, they buy Balder’s death without question.” His voice rose to a high, mocking tone. “Of course Loki did that. Loki is bad. Loki is evil. Whenever something goes wrong, it’s always Loki’s fault.”

He paused, taking a deep breath. When he spoke again, his voice was flat. Dead. “No one ever pauses to reallyanalyzethe story. To pick out the obvious fault in its telling. The thing that makes it different from every other myth.”

“Your motive,” Charlie blurted out.

Mason and Loki startled, looking over at her in surprise. The god of mischief raised his eyebrows, as if to say,Go on.

She hadn’t planned on saying the words aloud. They’d come out of their own accord, spurred on by the memory of how she’d felt after reading the story of Balder’s death. By the discomfort she’d felt. Because she’d been repulsed by what Loki had done, yes, but she’d also been confused. It hadn’t rung true.

Charlie cleared her throat, glancing between Mason and Loki. “In every other story,” she went on, “your misdeeds have a motive. You or the other gods stood to gain something from them. But in the story of Balder’s death, you act without reason. You kill him for the sake of killing him.”

“That’s exactly right,” said Loki, his voice softening slightly. “Tell me: Does that really sound like something I would do? Murder Odin’s favorite son for no apparent reason? Me, who built my life on surviving by being clever?”

Charlie didn’t know how to answer.

“So, what?” asked Mason. “Are you saying that you didn’t do any of the things in those stories?”

Something unreadable flashed through Loki’s eyes. His gaze flitted between Charlie and Mason. At last, he exhaled, turning to continue his walk down the passageway. “I’m saying,” he said, tossing the words over his shoulder, “don’t believe everything you read in storybooks.”

41

When Charlie entered the cavernwhere the Trial was to be held, her first thought was that she was about to be asked to fight someone to the death.

The “cavern” was more like a small underground coliseum, the kind of place that evoked swords and armor. The entrance was a tall archway that fed spectators out onto the circular walkway at the top of the cavern. Below the walkway were twenty rows of benches that wrapped around the room, like an enormous concentric staircase. Unlike the rest of the palace, this room was sandy orange and had a craggy, uneven ceiling. It looked as if it had been carved straight into the earth, rather than built.

On the lowest level, where a dusty arena for chariot fighting should have been, was a floor carved from an enormous tree trunk. It wasn’t a floormadeof wood; there were no planks fixed together, no seams or borders. Instead, there was one smooth, unbroken wooden circle containing so many rings that Charlie wouldn’t dare to count them. It looked just like the freshly sawed stumps she sometimes saw in the forest, except so large that a hundred men could comfortably congregate atop its surface.

Charlie and Mason came to a halt in the entrance, staring down at the giant stump. Henry, who was now perched on Charlie’s shoulder, sent colors of amazement into her mind. From behind, soulspushed excitedly past, hurrying down the staircase of benches to try and nab the best seats. But Charlie and Mason could only stare.

Because there, driven blade-first into the very center of the wood, was a spear wreathed in shadow.

The Seal itself is said to be a physical object. Legend has it that Odin gave up his most precious weapon, the spear Gungnir, for the task.

That’s what Elias had told her, so many weeks before. And there it was. Gungnir, Odin’s beloved spear that he had surrendered to create the spell that would protect humanity.

Thiswas the Seal.

Suddenly Charlie felt lightheaded. She was barely aware of her surroundings as a pair of mare guards materialized at her side, ushering her and Mason along the upper rim of the arena. She barely took in the curving walkway they walked to reach the other side. Barely felt it when they shoved them through a low doorway into a small room lit by torches and furnished with only one low table and a pair of candlesticks. Barely noticed the guards vanishing, leaving her, Mason, and Henry entirely alone.

Henry.

In the chaos of learning she was to do her Trialnow, she’d completely forgotten about him.

Charlie crouched down, looking the vätte right in the brim of his red hat, the spot where his eyes should have been. “Hey, bud,” she said. “Why don’t you run around and explore that arena a bit, okay?”

GO NOW?