Truths, Lies and Bilgesnipes [Complete]

Chapter 7

Loki grabbed onto the door-frame and leaned out until he could see down the hallway. No one there. He peered over the edge of the door; no one coming up from the other end of the hallway either. This was his chance.

He moved as quickly as he could. He had no idea if his father was already abed, or still working somewhere in the palace, or on his way back to his suite at this very moment. Loki hoped it wasn't the latter; the last thing he wanted was to encounter his father at this hour of the night.

The Norns were on Loki's side — he got to the little side corridor that ran off the main hallway and led to the service staircase without encountering so much as a mouse.

'A sec, or maybe two,' Loki mumbled under his breath.

Safe in the seclusion of the side-corridor, which was little-used even during the busiest hours of the day, he came to a stop and sucked in several long breaths. Today had been Loki's first day back to his lessons proper and Caunas had been right to caution that just sitting in a classroom would be a shock. The aching in his legs was decidedly more pronounced than it had been over the entire past week.

Loki attempted to lightly massage his left thigh, but that only exacerbated the pain. Still, he wasn't a coward and he wasn't about to give up because of a lingering ache. No longer so concerned about being caught, he set a more casual pace for himself. And, conceding that he was quite tired already, he dropped the concealment spells over himself. Using magic always drained the sorcerer to some degree and with no one around to see his face, there was no sense in keeping up the spell-work.

There were two places in the palace complex where Loki and his class typically had their combat lessons. The first, and almost universally, was the courtyard. When it snowed or rained too heavily even for Leifur to tolerate, they trained instead in one of the smaller arenas that belonged to the palace guardsmen. The main arena was reserved exclusively for the actual palace guard at all times. There was, however, another place right in the heart of the palace where you could practise. Few knew of it. This training room had been built for old King Bor's personal use. Loki's father preferred to train with the palace guard or the Einherjar, so he had no need of the space. The room was made available to any guests of the palace on the off-chance they preferred to work on their skills in private, but few took up the offer and most days, the room stood empty.

From the side-corridor, it was also only two flights down the service stairs. Loki's legs might have protested every step and he sweated profusely, but he was determined.

Just don't think about the climb back up.

The door was ajar. Wiping the beading moisture off his forehead, Loki peered through the gap between the door and the doorframe. The training room was already occupied. A tall man with snow-white hair, which fell down to the small of his back, stood in the centre of the room, his ribcage heaving in sharp bursts. A toppled manikin lay at his feet. Slowly, he turned around and offered Loki a lop-sided smile.

'Good evening. Come on in, no need to be shy,' he said. His voice was soft and sonorous, almost seductive — a counterpoint to the long dagger the man held in his hand. 'Prince Loki, is it not?'

Prince Amhlaith. It was only when Loki turned to shut the door behind him that his mind caught up. To be fair, he had met the Crown Prince of Alfheim only once before and that had been at a feast where Amhlaith had been draped in layers of silk and sable. Now he stood bare-chested and barefoot.

Loki jerked his head forward. 'It is, your highness. How do you do.'

'I think I'm satisfied I vanquished the manikin. Would you like to take a turn?' Amhlaith slid his dagger into the leather holster strapped around his hips and set the manikin upright.