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“You mean he’s not really interested in ‘talking’ at all,” Rota said. “He’s trying to find out if she’s capable of meeting him … and he’ll be watching to see what we’ll do if she isn’t.”

“But he can’t expect Freya to come at his beck and call,” Hild said. “Refusing his summons would prove nothing.”

“He knows that Freya would want to test him as well—to find out what, if anything, he had to do with the protest,” Mist said. “He also knows she’d want to rub his face in the fact that his ploy, if there was one, didn’t succeed.”

“Aesir and their pride,” Rota said, her full mouth stretching in disgust.

“The point is that we can’t let this go unanswered,” Mist said. She tapped the card against her palm. “Where’s Bryn?”

“With Freya.” Rota read Mist’s unspoken question. “No change.”

“Since Bryn’s been acting as Freya’s social secretary these past months,” Mist said, “maybe she can tell us if there’s some significance to this meeting time and date. We have to make some kind of plan in case…”

In case Freya doesn’t recover in time,
Mist thought. Loki couldn’t be allowed to find out how helpless she had become, or he’d strike at the allies when they were both demoralized and unable to call on the Lady’s magic.

“It’s still two days away,” she said briskly. “The council will meet to discuss the problem, and we’ll keep doing everything we can for Freya.”

No one spoke. They only stared at her, soberly considering the alternatives just as she was doing. She didn’t like the solution that was forming in her mind.

It would never work,
she thought. But when she glanced at Konur, she knew that he’d come to the same conclusion. There was something like pity in his eyes.

“You would not be alone,” he said, so softly that only she could hear. “I would accompany you.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” she said.

“I believe I do.”

Then for the sake of every one of us,
she thought,
we’d better hope that Freya regains her strength, magic, and beauty sometime within the next two days
.

*   *   *

“This isn’t a good idea,” Koji said.

Mist cursed under her breath as Rota twisted her dyed hair into another knot. She felt as if every strand was being torn out by its roots, and that was probably going to be the
best
part of the day.

“Why work so hard to fix it,” Mist said, wincing as Rota jerked a little too forcefully, “if I’m going to have to change everything else about myself? Can’t I just make it look—”

“You’re going to have enough to worry about with the coloring and eyes and face,” Hild said, “not to mention the body. The more we can get you to look like Freya without relying on magic, the better.”

“If you’d stop fidgeting,” Rota said around the hairpins poking out of her mouth, “this wouldn’t be so … difficult.”

Not difficult,
Mist thought.
Impossible
.
Crazy
. She still wasn’t quite sure how she’d let Konur talk her into it.

If Bryn hadn’t assured her that Freya had already planned to attend the reception at the Fairmont, Mist would never have consented to such a rash move. She might be her mother’s daughter, but she was most assuredly
not
her mother.

Yet tonight she was going to have to try to be more like Freya than the Lady herself. She’d have to turn on the glamour in a way she never had before and outperform Bette Davis if she wanted to convince Loki that Freya was not only alive and well, but in top form.

“He’ll be watching for deception,” Koji said, standing before her with his arms crossed and an uncharacteristically grim expression on his handsome face. “You’re giving him exactly what he wants.”

“If we knew what he wanted, this would be easy,” Rota said as she pinned up the thick coil of hair. “It’s all a crapshoot.”

“Set your mind at rest, Mr. Tashiro,” Konur said, walking into the room. He stopped abruptly, one brow lifted, as if he was genuinely startled by Mist’s altered appearance. “Mist has not only the use of her glamour, but my guidance as well.”

“But you have no idea if Mist’s glamour will work on Loki directly,” Koji said.

Konur lifted his head, looking down his long and elegant nose. “I have every confidence in Mist’s abilities. At the very least, Loki will be left as ignorant as he was before. He can only guess at our motives.”

“The moment he recognizes her, he’ll make the natural assumption that you’re desperate,” Koji said. He met Mist’s gaze. “You’ll need more than courage and magic. You’ll need luck.” He blinked, and Mist imagined that she saw a flash of silver in his dark eyes. “I’d like to come along.”

Mist tugged at the straps of Freya’s flimsy silk slip. “Konur was originally supposed to escort Freya, and it’ll look pretty strange if her daughter’s boyfriend shows up as her escort.”

“I’ll stay in the background.”

“Sure. Koji Tashiro, of the San Francisco Tashiros. Not likely. And Loki knows you’re on our side.”

“You notice that he’s never made a move against my family, or anyone connected with them.”

“He still sees you as peripheral in this fight,” Bryn said with her usual bluntness. “If you ever caused him real trouble, he might make some for you in return.”

“What kind of trouble did you have in mind?”

“Try swinging that katana instead of shuffling legal documents,” Bryn muttered.

“Bryn,” Mist said, with a hard glance at her Sister. “I’m satisfied with Koji’s work. If you have a problem with that, take it up with me when I get back.”

With a sharp shake of her head, Bryn subsided. Koji sighed.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I never like seeing you risk your life.”

“I know.” She took his hand and gripped it tightly. “But even if I mess up, Loki’s not likely to do anything dramatic like try to kill me. I may even learn something useful by getting an inside look at Freya’s political and social machinations, not to mention Loki’s.”

“None of which will do us much good if Freya doesn’t recover,” Hild said.

“She will,” Bryn said sharply.

“We’ve done everything we can for now,” Mist said, forestalling another argument. “All our resources are focused on defense. We’ll have to play it day by day … hour by hour if necessary.”

For a time, no one spoke. Mist always wondered if her pep talks really did any good. How could she convince her friends and followers when she couldn’t even convince herself?

Her ineffectual brooding ended when Rota held up the dress—a scarlet, very low-cut, figure-hugging confection with a slit up to there—and grinned at Mist.

“Prada,” the redheaded Valkyrie said. “Just my style.”

It certainly isn’t mine,
Mist thought. But it
was
Freya’s, and that was the only thing that mattered.

Koji gave Mist a last, troubled look and walked out of the bedroom. Konur remained. Mist let Rota slip the dress over her head.

The silk was cool and luxurious on her skin. She felt overexposed and ridiculous, certain that the top, cinched tight as it was, would never hold the thing up over her chest.

“Wow,” Rota said, beaming with admiration and pride. “The alterations are perfect. Fits like a glove.”

“No kidding,” Mist said, tugging at the seams on either side of her hips. “I can barely—”

“Stop that!” Rota said, slapping at her hands. “You’ll pull it all out of shape. It’s supposed to do that.”

“Loki’s piss.”

“If you talk like that, you’ll give yourself away in five seconds,” Bryn remarked.

“I know. But if I can’t let off some steam now…” She sighed. “Look, between you and Bryn and Konur I’ve had all the coaching I can take. If I can’t do it now, I’ll never be able to.”

“Try the glamour,” Konur said.

She did. It felt like a very small shift inside her, nothing like what she’d tried to use in the plaza. She wasn’t moving people around like pieces on a Hnefatafl board or stopping a riot, and she didn’t lose her sense of time. It was only herself she was trying to change.

But the magic must have worked, because Rota’s mouth dropped open, Konur nodded approvingly, and even Bryn looked startled.

“It’s perfect,” Rota said. “You look exactly like Freya.”

Mist reached up to pluck a strand of loose hair from her temple. “Black as any elf’s,” Hild said, taking the hair from Mist’s hand and holding it under the light. “And your eyes are dark, too.” She pursed her lips. “Body’s right. I can’t see any flaws.”

“But do I
sound
like her?” Mist asked, clearing her throat.

“Exactly,” Bryn said. Her nut-brown skin had gone more than a little pale. “As long as you speak the right words.”

“You’ll do fine,” Rota said. “You won’t be leaving for an hour. Use that time to relax. Meditate, or whatever it is you do in your copious spare time. If you need to talk, we’ll be in the living room.”

Mist nodded brusquely, and the three Valkyrie left. Konur lingered to stare at her a moment longer, but before she could ask him what was on his mind, he was striding out the door.

Mist released her breath and looked at her reflection in the mirror. She
did
look like Freya, to a frightening degree. Freya in her borrowed elven body. The makeup, dress, and black spike-heel pumps only enhanced what was already a perfect illusion.

But she hated it. She wanted her jeans and boots and leather, her familiar braid, the face people said was beautiful but had always seemed comfortingly ordinary to her.

Even if she succeeded tonight, would she have to keep playing Freya indefinitely, just to hold Loki at bay until the Lady came out of her stupor?

She reached up to twist the braid that didn’t exist, remembering at the last moment that she was about to muss her artfully tousled hair. “If it falls down, you’ll look even more alluring,” Rota had assured her.

Alluring. Gods help me
.

Turning her back on the mirror, Mist sat down on the bed—carefully, so as not to split any of the seams—and kicked off the pumps. She tried to meditate as Rota had suggested, and didn’t realize she’d lost track of time until Konur knocked lightly on the door.

He was impeccably dressed in a formal suit, his long hair drawn back in a neat ponytail, his handsome features solemn and quiet. She stood and stepped into the pumps, patting her waist in search of Kettlingr’s comforting weight.

But even in its knife form, the sword would never fit in the tiny clutch purse with its spray of minuscule diamonds.

“Are you ready?” Konur asked.

“I assume that is a rhetorical question,” she said as she took Freya’s evening coat out of the closet.

“Not at all,” Konur said. He took the coat from her and helped her into it, making her feel even more foolish.

“It’s what Freya would expect from her male escort,” he said when he was finished.

Let this be the one and only time,
Mist prayed as Konur followed her outside.
And let me not decide to bash Loki’s face in with my spike heels when I see him
.

By prior arrangement, only Bryn waited at the curb to see Mist off. But as she climbed into the rented van, she saw Anna striding across the street, her arms folded across her ribs and her chin pressed to her chest.

Mist couldn’t imagine that Anna had seen anything incriminating, so she pushed her brief concern aside and settled into the driver’s seat. When she and Konur reached the apartment Freya used as her “headquarters”—luxuriously fitted out to entertain potential contacts or allies—they would make the switch to the Lady’s Maserati, the gift of one of her more amorous associates.

“Keep a close watch on Freya,” Mist said to Bryn as she started the engine. She realized she wasn’t going to be able to drive with the heels, so she pulled them off and stashed them behind the seat. “Call Konur if there’s any change.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Bryn said. Her gaze was distant, as if she didn’t really see Mist at all. “I’ll take very good care of the Lady.”

“Then wish me luck.”

“
Lykke til
,
min venninne,
” Bryn said. But her voice was as remote as her gaze, and Mist found herself shivering as she pulled away.

*   *   *

“There’s always a chance that something will change,” Vali said. “But Loki didn’t extend this invitation to Freya just to find out what’s happened with her. He means to keep her and Mist too busy to interfere when he sends his people after Sleipnir. And that’ll keep him focused on other things while we carry out our raid of his mansion.”

Perched on Asbrew’s long-unused counter, Orn stretched out his wings and flapped them irritably. “Laufeyson knows where the horse resides, but neither you nor Anna can tell
me
. How did he learn this?”

“You know Loki doesn’t always confide in me. He obviously didn’t think that was important for me to know. And I’m sure that Anna did her best. She was able to confirm that Freya was still in seclusion as of this afternoon, and that tells us a lot.”

“It does not tell us the state of her health, or of her magic.”

“Loki will find that out at the party, and then we’ll know, too.” Vali kicked at the floor to dislodge a crust of mud acquired from the wet street outside. “If Loki manages to steal Sleipnir, I’m sure I’ll be able to learn where he’s hidden the horse.”

“Laufeyson forgets who Sleipnir is,” Orn said. “He may have given birth to the Slipper, but Odin’s mount will not go willingly.”

“And it’s possible that if Freya or Mist figures out he’s trying to distract them, they might get to Sleipnir in time to stop him.”

Orn cocked his head, eying Vali appraisingly. “
Can
Mist stop him?”

“We still don’t know exactly what happened at the protest.” Vali stroked the side of his beard in a nervous gesture that belied his calm demeanor. “Even though Loki tries not to let it show, he’s a lot more worried about her than he used to be.”

“Then he will be more cautious,” Orn said, pacing up and down the length of the counter.

“Maybe. But as long as he’s got Dainn and the kid, he’s going to believe he has good odds of winning tonight.”