“What is this madness?” Thor demanded as they followed their escorts down the hall to their chambers. Loki was struggling to keep up—even with the spikes on the bottoms of his boots, Loki found it hard to find his grip on the ice floors. “Those Stones do not belong to Alfheim, or any other realm. They belong to Asgard!”

“Technically, Nornheim,” Loki replied.

“A province of Asgard.”

“Yes, I heard you the first time. Good to know you listened to the first five minutes of our geography class. Your tutor would be so proud.” Loki’s feet slipped on the ice floor and he skated a few steps, nearly toppling over. Thor grabbed him, hauling him upright, though the thoughtfulness of the gesture was undermined by the tightness of the grip and the glare that accompanied it.

“Don’t test me, Loki. I am not in a sporting mood.”

“You seemed to be feeling very sportsmanly as you rubbed yourself all over the elvish royalty.”

“I was being friendly.”

“You were being informal. Didn’t you read the brief from the librarian?”

Thor made another growling sound and swatted the air like he was batting that sentence away. “I do not have the time for reading.”

“I know, necking with Lady Sif between the stacks must take so much out of you.”

For a moment, he thought Thor might slam him into the wall, and wondered if that would count as an interdimensional incident or a domestic one. Did a squabble between brothers mean more or less of a crisis if it took place off their own world? Thor had shoved him plenty of times without it inciting some sort of war.

“My lords,” one of the guards interrupted, and Loki realized they had stopped in front of a door.

When the guards let them into their room, Thor stomped past them without a word and Loki followed, sparing the men a brief nod of thanks. The room had the same angled ceiling as the banquet hall, though the walls were smooth and lined with thick tapestries. Loki imagined this must be the room for guests who were not accustomed to the cold. The beds were layered with snowy gray pelts, with a window built into the wall across from them. Thor flung himself onto a bed, ignoring the thump of his head hitting the ice headboard. Loki didn’t dare hope his brother had actually knocked himself out and he would get some peace to think. He crossed to the window and looked out over the courtyard and the guards patrolling the grounds below.

“Wasn’t this meant to be simple?” Thor asked suddenly. “Father said this would all be simple.”

Loki replied without looking, “There are no simple assignments from Father.”

“Not when you’re involved there aren’t,” Thor snapped.

Loki’s eyes flitted to Thor. He knew his brother well enough to discern when Thor was being mean simply for the pleasure of getting a rise out of him, and knew the most infuriating response he could give in return was a calm, even tone. “You mean because those assignments don’t involve punching your way out of trouble?”

“I have...other skills!”

“But using multisyllabic words isn’t among them.”

“Then you can be the one to return to Father and tell him in as many syllables as you choose that we left with instructions to articulate a plan of reclamation and returned with an interdimensional war,” Thor snapped.

“You’re so dramatic.”

“What will we tell Father?”

“We needn’t tell him anything if the Elves agree to drop this ridiculous proposition on their own accord.”

“And how do we convince them to do that?”

“We prove their Prism is nowhere near as safe as they claim.”

“Their Prism?” Thor repeated.

“The center of the palace—the most secure location in Alfheim. Its magic is used to power the entire court and creates heatless light. Really, at least skim the briefs, won’t you?”

“And how do you propose we make our way into the Prism chamber?”

“Let’s start here.” Loki reached into the pocket of his coat, withdrew a set of heavy keys, and tossed them onto the bed beside Thor.

Thor sat up, staring at the keys, then looked up at Loki. “Where did you get these?”

“They were a gift.”

In truth, when Thor was putting on his show at dinner, Loki had waited until the guard had passed behind his chair before starting to make his exit so he could smash straight into her. She was high-ranking—she had a plume on her helmet that none of the others wore, and the hilt of her sword was more ornate. When they collided, she was distracted with apologies and keeping her balance and the Elves’ natural distaste for physical contact. Loki had taken the keys he had seen bulging in her pocket and replaced them with his cutlery set from the feast table so their weight wouldn’t be missed. He wasn’t certain when their absence would be noted, but so far no alarm had been raised. She’d probably be too embarrassed to admit the oversight for at least another day. She’d make her fellows use their keys, search clandestinely. If Loki was feeling generous, maybe he would plant them somewhere to be found later and the guard would never have to admit she’d misplaced her keys.

The moment Asmund turned the talk against them, Loki had begun to plot what they could do next. Thor might not have seen the turn coming, but Loki had felt it brewing in the air. The Elves wouldn’t hear their arguments and were clearly using the missing Norn Stones as a means of starting a fight they had long wanted to pick with Asgard, so the only way to stop them would be to prove their shortcomings. Force them to retreat quietly without his father ever knowing there had been rumblings of an insurrection.

He could not afford to fail this assignment. Perhaps Thor could, but Loki had far too much to prove, and far fewer chances to do so.

“We can continue our negotiations tomorrow,” he said, “reach a tense impasse with the Prince-General, and return to Asgard to tell Father that we allowed the Prince-General of the Ice Elves—a man whose entire puny kingdom could barely fill a closet in the Asgardian palace—to push us around, and also there is apparently some sort of inter-realm coalition forming against Asgard’s ability to keep its relics protected, calling into question our authority across the universe.”

“Or?”

“Or we prove that, even at their best, the Ice Elves’ security pales in comparison to what we have on Asgard. They could not protect the Stones—let alone any other relics—the way we can. Asmund is put in his place, and we return to Father with the compliance of the Alfheim Prince-General in assisting in finding the Norn Stones.”

Thor didn’t answer.

“But if you aren’t willing to take control of the situation,” Loki prompted, “that’s fine. Perhaps your next assignment will be more negotiations with the Ice Elves. Though I imagine Odin will oversee them this time, as we failed alone. But Father will stand with us. For us, actually. We probably won’t be permitted to talk, since we mucked this up.”

Thor kneaded one fist into his open palm. Loki swore he could hear him thinking—it was a rusty, crunching noise. “Stop baiting me.”

“I’m telling you the reality of the situation,” Loki replied. “Those Stones are the property of Asgard. They are powerful and dangerous, and should not be in the care of a court whose captain of the guard doesn’t notice her keys have been taken from her own pocket. So if not us, who will be the next thief to gain access to them? If the Ice Elves had a set of the Norn Stones, they’d be on the black market of Svartalfheim before the next feast day.”

Thor snatched up the keys, tossed them in the air once, and caught them. Then he smiled at Loki—certainly the first smile he’d given his brother since they’d arrived. Probably in longer than that. “This was supposed to be an easy assignment.”

Loki pulled his fur cloak back over his shoulders. He could feel a spell sparking at his fingertips. “But wouldn’t that be boring?”