Page 2 of Heart of Mischief

For the most part, his plan worked. He kidnapped Lou, got the riddle out of the Fenrir, and made it back to Helheim alive. The only downside was that he hadn’t actually gotten to murder anyone.

Not for a lack of trying, though.

And now he was in a funk, and so, apparently, was Loki.

Over on the dais, Loki was watching the ash wives dance with about as much enthusiasm as Elias would have felt if someone had suggested they go rescue a sinking ship filled with orphans. Which was to say, none. The god of mischief was deep in thought, his brow furrowed beneath the salt-and-pepper hair he usually chose to sport. Given that Loki was an immortal being who could shape-shift into literally any form—male, female, young, ancient, strong, wiry—Elias sometimes wondered why he spent the bulk of his time as a middle-aged man. Loki was so vain naturally that Elias would’ve expected the god to keep himself free of gray hair and wrinkles for all of eternity.

As Elias considered this, Loki’s expression shifted. It was subtle but clear: a loosening of the forehead, a clearing of the fog in his eyes. The god had made some kind of decision, and whatever it was had led him to scan the crowd.

To his surprise, Loki’s eyes locked on Elias.

Elias stiffened. He fought the urge to avert his gaze, worried the god would think he had been staring. Which… granted, hehadbeen staring, but there was no reason Loki needed to know that.

After a beat, the god lifted one hand and crooked his finger in summons.

Elias’s heart picked up speed. He thought he’d somehow slid past any repercussions after the fiasco in Silver Shores, but maybe his time had finally come. Inhaling, Elias pushed the women off his lap, rose to his feet, and started through the crowd.

When he reached the dais, Loki clapped twice.

“Ash wives,” he called, “you are dismissed.”

The tree spirits stopped dancing at once. They bowed low before swaying off into the party, leaving a trail of twigs and leaves in their wake.

As Elias watched them slink away, he couldn’t help but compare them to the ash wives he’d met on Asgard. Outside of the underworld, ash wives were fearsome creatures to behold. They were theguardians of the eight realms, the protectors of Yggdrasil—better known as “the world tree,” a white ash as big as the universe itself, upon which hangs every known realm. Living ash wives would never dance for someone else’s entertainment. Not even a god’s.

But this wasn’t Asgard. This was Helheim, the underworld, the home of the dead, ruled over by Loki and his daughter. Down here, you listened to your rulers, or you suffered the consequences.

Once the ash wives were gone, Elias bowed to Loki and Hel. “Your Majesties.”

Hel didn’t even grunt in response.

Elias straightened in time to see Loki shoot his daughter a stern look, then wave over a soul servant holding a huge bronze pitcher. “More mead!” he called, a smile curling his lips for the first time all evening. “My daughter’s cup is empty, and it’s making her churlish.”

Hel pursed her lips—or, more accurately, half pursed them, as only half of her face had lips to begin with—and said, “It isn’t the lack of mead that’s bothering me, Father.”

Loki ignored her. As his goblet filled with fresh mead, he studied Elias. The attention made the mare want to squirm, but he kept his gaze steady.

“Thank you for coming,” Loki said at last, waving away the soul servant. “I have a mission for you.”

Elias’s eyebrows rose. “A mission?”

“Yes.” Loki took a sip from his goblet. “I need you to head to Alfheim.”

Alfheim?“But I just got here.”

Loki laughed. “That’s hardly true, my boy. You’ve been on leave a full three weeks. Haven’t you had enough drinking and dancing yet?”

“One can never have enough drinking and dancing, sir.”

“On that we agree.” Loki winked. “But I need someone to make a discreet visit to the realm of the elves.”

Inwardly, Elias groaned. He had no interest in visiting Alfheim, a realm so hideously peaceful that any mare worth their salt feels sapped of energy the moment they set foot on its repulsively beautiful meadows.

Unless, he mused,Loki is sending me there to sack the capital, Ljósborg.

Now,thatwould be a mission he could get behind.

Greatly cheered, Elias puffed out his chest. “What’s the assignment?”