‘Loki!’ Thor shouted as he burst in.

He wore an old tunic, the sleeves of which were too short for him and drips of something brown peppered the frayed embroidery on the front of the garment. Somewhere back out in the corridor, Agmundr, one of the two trainee healers on duty today, urged Thor to keep the volume down. Thor paid Agmundr no heed. Loki wasn’t even sure his brother had heard the trainee; Thor’s focus was on the woven basket in his hands.

‘I have something for you,’ Thor said brightly, then narrowed his eyes. ‘What are you doing? Trying to climb out the window?’

‘I think the elves are leaving. Or some of them at least.’

‘Yeah, I heard they were wrapping up things yesterday.’

‘Come and see. I’m pretty sure the Bifrost is about to open.’ Loki jerked his head towards the open window. He thoroughly hated the children’s ward. He couldn’t stand the dull-eyed pixies and over-sized dandelions painted onto every wall, or the stiff mattresses, or the over-starched sheets, or the constant smell of medication. But the room did offer a good view of the observatory and the bridge that connected it to the city.

‘It’s just the Bifrost,’ Thor replied. Yet he walked over to stand beside Loki and set his basket down on the windowsill. No matter how many times you saw it, you still couldn’t help but marvel at the Bifrost’s bright colours and the sheer magnitude of magic contained within it.

Unfortunately, there seemed to be some delay. Loki could make out the many people and horses milling about the entrance to the Observatory, but not much else. Sighing, he asked, ‘So what did you bring in here? Does it have teeth?’

Thor gave him a bewildered look, which Loki thought was entirely unwarranted. The last time Thor dragged in a basket like that, the basket had held a polecat and the critter wasn’t at all pleased by his confinement. Thor had nearly gotten his nose bitten off when he lifted the lid.

‘No?’ Thor said. ‘It’s just a tray of pastries from the kitchens. An apprentice got distracted and forgot to take them out in time, so they are a bit burned on top. Too burnt to be served, but really, they are barely burnt at all. The cooks said I should take them for you since you’re still not well.’

‘I’m fine.’

‘Yeah, you’ve been saying that for a while now,’ Thor replied, rolling his eyes. ‘Everyone keeps asking how you are, you know. It’s getting kind of irritating. Well, do you want some or not?’

He pulled back the cloth that covered the basket and the sweet scent of freshly baked goods wafted into the air. Loki couldn’t resist the temptation and peered inside. In the basket were seven six-inch-long pear buns, which indeed, did look somewhat singed across the top.

That wasn’t a fatal defect. Loki picked out one and, after pulling off the singed part of the pastry, bit into the bun. It was still as warm as if it had been pulled out of the oven mere minutes ago and the filling was a masterful conglomeration of flavours. Despite the name, pear bun stuffing was actually made by mixing pears with walnuts, raisins, figs and anise.

‘This is pretty good,’ Loki said. ‘So is this what you were doing all afternoon, stuffing yourself with pastry?’

‘Of course not,’ Thor said. ‘They made me peel carrots, scrub pots and all kind of stuff like that. But it’s not so bad. There’s a new apprentice there, Sindri, and he has much the same tasks as I do. We were competing to see who’d finish first. He did, but I think with some more practice, I can beat him. Oh, and then one of the assistant cooks showed me how to pluck a goose. There were so many feathers!’

‘This punishment sounds like a real trial for you,’ Loki scoffed.

The pear bun lost some of its lustre. First, he nearly died because of Thor’s idiocy. Now, a week after his relapse, Loki remained a prisoner in this ward. The last two days, Eir had permitted him to go to a few of his classes: history, mathematics and rhetoric. But he had to be accompanied by one of the healers or a palace guard between the Medical Wing and the classroom. And when he wasn’t in class, he was to remain in the Medical Wing. Meanwhile, Thor was enjoying unfettered access to kitchen stores and tormenting dead birds.

‘Hey,’ Thor said defensively, ‘my hands are all cut up and sore from all that peeling and plucking. And I have all of my maths work to do for tomorrow still. I don’t want to hold a pen, let alone think about formulas and equations.’ He reached for another bun, but then paused and glanced up at Loki. ‘Don’t suppose you’ve done it? You can have one of my buns if I can copy off you.’

‘Just the one? I saved your life and you made the whole thing out to be my fault.’

‘But I shot the bilgesnipe. And I apologised…’ Thor sighed. ‘Fine, two buns.’

‘Deal. But I haven’t finished the exercises myself yet, so you’re going to have to wait until I’m done,’ Loki replied and bit down on the inside of his lower lip so Thor wouldn’t catch him grinning like a fool.

He would let happily Thor copy the work they’d been assigned, but he would also make sure there wasn’t a single correct answer in those workings. Laziness always won Thor over, so there was no chance he would check the answers before handing them to the mathematics tutor tomorrow morning.

Perhaps this was a petty trick, but Loki needed something to brighten his mood.

‘Drink it and then we’ll play,’ Lunda said as she moved the tall, half-full glass of the nutrient replenisher closer to Loki.

He cringed at the yellowish, frothy liquid. ‘I’ll drink half of what’s left now and the rest after the game, ok? I mean, there’s so much of it still and I ate everything on the plate… not sure I could keep it down.’

She didn’t look convinced, but Loki had lost interest anyway. His father had appeared at the doorway, dressed in his riding gear and carrying a bulky pouch in his arms. After a momentary hesitation, he stepped into the staffroom.

‘Healer Lunda, Loki, how do you do?’ Loki’s father asked.

He glanced about; Loki supposed he had never been in this part of the Medical Wing before. Only healers and trainees were usually in here. But Lunda seemed to guess that if Loki had to stay in the children’s ward much longer, he would find a sharp object and gouge out the eyes of every pixie painted onto the walls, so she had brought him out to eat dinner with her in the staffroom.

‘I’m well, thank you, your majesty,’ Lunda replied. She rose from the table and began clearing the empty dinner plates. ‘I have to check on a couple of things, so I’d best leave you two to chat. Loki, don’t forget that you need to drink that.’

‘No, I think we’d best move to Loki’s room. Why don’t you bring the drink with you?’ Odin replied.

Loki groaned. That nutrient replenisher was the bane of his day. It tasted vile and the texture was oddly gelatinous. Of course, there was no arguing with either his father or Lunda about it — he would only end up receiving enough lecture about how he had already jeopardised his health. He was thoroughly sick of hearing about that. He picked up the glass and followed his father out into the corridor.

‘Lunda and I were just going to play chess,’ Loki said. ‘It’s a Midgardian game rather like Askelvo, but with a smaller board and more rules about how all the different pieces move. Do you know it? It’s pretty fun, but you have to think a lot.’

‘I’m familiar with it. We can play a game or two sometime if you like.’ Odin ruffled Loki’s hair, then his arm settled on Loki’s shoulder.

Loki peered up at his father; he seemed to in be a better mood today than he had been in a long while. ‘That’d be great. But do you have the time? Thor and I saw the Bifrost open earlier. Are all the elves gone now? Is that why you’re here so early?’

‘I’m not early, I’m late. I’d hoped to be done with the elves by the early afternoon, but there was one delay after another.’ Odin lifted up the package he still held in his right hand. ‘Speaking of the elves, this is actually for you from Prince Amhlaith.’

They had reached the children’s ward. Loki turned on the lights and was about to set the glass of nutrient replenisher down on his bedside table, but his father shook his head. He pointed to the glass and then to the pouch. Loki sighed. He tipped the liquid into his mouth, chugging it down in sips as large as he could make them. He willed himself not to gag. One of the trainee healers had tried to explain what was in the drink, but Loki still didn’t understand how something could be too salty and too sweet as once.

‘It’s the foulest thing I’ve ever tasted,’ Loki said as he set the now empty glass aside and plonked down on his bed.

‘Is that so? I remember there was once a period of some months where you developed a fondness for sand, garden dirt and earthworms.’

‘Thor ate an earthworm on a dare only a few months ago.’

His father let out a weary scoff as he handed over the pouch. It was so heavy, Loki nearly dropped it in surprise. The pouch itself was heavily padded to protect its contents. Peering at the embroidery, he couldn’t make sense of it, but then, the elves liked abstract imagery so maybe it wasn’t supposed to make sense. Loki tugged at the crimson thread that fastened the pouch. Inside, he found a voluminous book and a folded letter.

To his royal highness, Prince Loki of Asgard,

It was disquieting to hear of your sudden relapse and your continued illness. I, personally and on behalf of all the people of Alfheim, wish you a quick recovery. In the meantime, perhaps this small gift will bring you a measure of diversion. A sickbed can be a dull and dreary place.

I hope we will have an opportunity in the near future to renew our acquaintance.

With the warmest of regards,

Amhlaith, Crown Prince of Alfheim and First Duke of Skorsfjord

Loki handed the letter over to his father to read and turned to the book, which was a good two inches thick, with a dark-grey cover and the title Alfheim and Asgard: A Multi-perspective Analysis of Three Millennia of Turbulent Relations printed across the cover in a slightly darker shade of grey ink. Loki ran his thumb across the pages and saw only endless inches of small text flick by as the pages slid under his thumb.

‘It’s kind of him to send a gift,’ Loki said. His thoughts of Prince Amhlaith were mixed. The elf had thoroughly entranced him with his illusions back in the training room, but Loki was also certain Amhlaith had been the one to tell his father that he had been out of bed that night. It wasn’t that hard to figure out — no one else had seen him out and about. ‘This seems like an informative read.’

Loki’s father turned the letter over as if he expected to find some cryptic message on the blank side of the paper. ‘I wouldn’t be so sure that kindness was the motivating factor here.’ He must have caught Loki’s confused look because he went on, ‘Elves are a wily lot. And Amhlaith’s older sister died in peculiar circumstances not so long ago. It’s best not to take anything he does at face value.’

You ’d think that he was up to something, he would’ve picked a book that isn’t going to send me to sleep in the first five minutes.

Loki idly flicked through the book again until the book fell open onto the inner title page: A Practitioner’s Guide to Advanced Illusions and Deceptions.

Oh. I see now.

Loki snapped the book shut and peered up at his father. Thankfully, Odin was rereading the letter and hadn’t noticed Loki’s eyes, which had to be as round as saucers. If this book was what the title promised, there was no way his father would let him keep it.

‘So did elves all go back to Alfheim now?’ Loki wrapped his arms around the book and pressed it to his chest.

‘I believe three remained to finish off some work. But I think we’ve had more than enough elves lately, haven’t we? There are some other things I wanted to speak to you about.’

Cold dread settled into the pit of Loki’s stomach. The evening his father had brought him back to the Medical Wing, he had said they would talk later about how Loki hadn’t said anything about his aching leg or his nausea. He’d certainly brought up the matter since, but he hadn’t focused on it the way Eir or even Lunda had. Loki had quietly concluded that his father had decided his imprisonment in the Medical Wing and the healers’ nagging were substitute enough. Except, apparently not.

Loki relinquished his hold on Amhlaith’s book, pushing it well out of his father’s reach, and squared his shoulders. ‘All right.’

‘I thought this was worth a measure of forewarning,’ his father said. ‘I’m in the process of selecting a new combat-master for you. I’ve pared the list of candidates down to four and I think we should have the right person chosen in the next few days.’

‘For me, as in for the class or just for me?’

‘For you to work one-on-one with.’

‘On top of the normal class?’

‘Instead of,’ his father replied. He pulled the end of the bed neighbouring Loki’s forward and sat down across from Loki. ‘At least for now. If in the future you want to devote some extra time to your combat lessons, we can discuss it and see what arrangements can be made. In the short term, once Eir believes you are recovered enough, you’ll have private lessons with the new instructor during the aftern—’

‘Can’t I have lessons in the morning, before other classes instead? Then I can attend the ones with Master Leifur too.’

‘If you want to get up early, that’s fine. But you won’t be returning to group classes until Eir and I are certain you won’t hurt yourself trying to keep up with the rest of the class.’

Loki ducked his head low so his father wouldn’t see his face. His father, however, wasn’t fooled. ‘Loki,’ he said in a slow and patient tone, which just sent Loki’s stomach twisting. The way his father spoke, it was like he thought Loki was about to burst into tears. ‘Child, listen to me. This is not a punishment nor is this an arrangement to be ashamed about.’

‘How is it not? You don’t think I’m good enough to keep up with the others!’

‘That’s true, you can’t. I think you know that as well as I do.’

Loki had to swallow the painful lump in his throat before he could reply. ‘I’ll keep trying until I can.’

‘I know you will,’ the tone of his father’s voice sharpened. ‘Norns be gracious, child, you’ve never done anything by half-measure. I just don’t want you to maim yourself or one of your training partners in the trying. I repeat — this is not a punishment! Many soldiers work on their form away from their peers for a time when they recover from injury. I’ve done it myself. And if you don’t like the new combat-master, I’ll arrange for someone else to work with you.’

‘I bet I’ll hate him,’ Loki muttered.

‘We’ll see.’ His father chuckled. ‘But there’s something else too and perhaps it’ll cheer you up.’

Loki couldn’t see what could cheer him up. His father had just admitted that he thought Loki too incompetent to even train alongside his peers. He just wanted to yell at his father to go away and curl up in his bed. Or perhaps to kick some of those demented pixies until they weren’t smiling anymore.

‘You’re not curious at all?’ his father pressed.

‘No, not really.’

‘You sure? Well, I suspect I’d best tell you anyway – your mother will return from Adra Taeral tomorrow morning.’

‘What? A-are you sure?’ Loki asked, but he couldn’t contain his grin even as he spoke.

‘That’s what she told me.’ His father said. ‘And I had a thought. Since you and Thor had been on your own so much lately, why don’t you both take a day off your lessons and spend the day with your mother? She’s missed you both a great deal.’

‘Will Eir let me out for the whole day?’

‘Don’t worry about that. I’ll speak with her.’

Loki leapt up and wrapped his arms around his father. ‘Thank you!’

His father drew him closer and next Loki knew, he sat in his father’s lap with his father’s hands firmly wrapped around him. Loki’s heart pumped out of sheer excitement. He would have to wait an extra day before he got to see how things played out when their mathematics tutor saw that Thor had given the wrong answer for every question in their homework, but it was nothing. He hadn’t seen his mother properly in so long; even the new combat-master seemed only minor annoyance all of a sudden.

Loki’s father sighed and ran his fingers through Loki’s hair. ‘I think now everything should get back to the way it was. Or at least it will very soon. That’d be good, wouldn’t it?’

Loki’s thoughts flashed to the raised patches of skin across his legs where scarring from the bilgesnipe spurs still remained and, if the healers were correct, would take years to fully fade. But he didn’t want to think about bilgesnipes or his injuries tonight, not when he had so much to look forward to tomorrow.

He just nodded eagerly. ‘It’d be great.’