Chapter 38
My mind drifted back to the investigation into Muriel’s killer. I kept wondering—why did he believe the murderer had followed him to Asgard? Earlier, during the strategy discussions, Odin had revealed that all the crucial notes Muriel referenced in his letter were missing. The killer had taken everything useful.
That only raised more questions.
Why had Muriel’s death been so brutal? The other victims had been tortured and killed, yes—but their bodies had been left outwardly untouched. Muriel, on the other hand, had been slaughtered. I’d overheard that the gaping wound in his chest had been because his heart was cut out. Even more disturbing—his own blade had been used. They left the knife behind, but took his heart.
It had to be the same killer from Alfheim. I could feel it. But if it was, why had Loki not recognized the Seiðr trace? He had personally examined the other crime scenes—there had been magic present there, too. So why was this trace different? Was it a trick? Or did it have something to do with the killer’s ability to shift bodies?
We already knew they could take on Aliona’s form.
There were too many questions and not enough answers. How were we supposed to catch someone whose face we did not even know? How could we stop them if they could physically become anyone?
And then— A thought struck me so suddenly I practically launched out of the bed.
My heart raced as a realization clicked into place—something I should have seen sooner.
In my lessons with Loki, we’d studied defensive wards. The really advanced ones, like the ones around the royal wing, were still far beyond my ability to create, but I was beginning to understand how they worked. Most were designed to repel illusion, glamour, or any kind of external magical manipulation. Loki had explained that illusion spells required constant magical upkeep—so the ward could detect that margical energy and react to it.
But shapeshifting? That was different.
You didn’t need to maintain magic once the transformation was complete. It wasn’t an illusion—it became your actual form. There was no active magic running through it. No foreign Seiðr to trigger the wards. From a magical perspective, it was clean. Invisible.
There was only one caveat.
To shapeshift with that level of accuracy—to become a perfect copy of someone—the killer would need access to the original’s body. A living soul had its own innate magic, and that magic resisted exact duplication. The spell would unravel the moment you tried to mimic someone who was still alive. But a dead body? That could be copied without resistance. No magic to fight back. No spirit to protect the shape.
That horrifying detail had been mentioned in one of the advanced texts Loki had once shown me in one of the lessons—warnings written in tight, ancient script. The spell could only succeed if the original form was no longer bound to life.
So if someone at court had been replaced… They were already dead.
The only comfort was how rare that kind of magic was. True shapeshifting wasn’t just difficult—it was nearly unheard of. Most mages never even attempted it. It required innate talent, precise knowledge of transmutation magic, and an inhuman level of control. As far as I knew, only one person in the Nine Realms could do it flawlessly.
Loki.
And that made everything even worse. Because if someone else had that kind of ability—it meant we were dealing with someone terrifying.
“Oh my god, Loki—wake up!”
His eyes flew open and he instantly scanned the room. “What is wrong? Did you experience a nightmare?” he asked, still shaking off sleep.
“Listen—if Muriel’s killer is the same Seiðr user from Alfheim, how hard would it be for them to take someone’s identity here? Someone at court?”
Loki rubbed his eyes. “They would need to observe the person closely to mimic their traits, but with that level of magic, it would not be difficult. So long as they possessed the original’s body, it should pose no challenge to them.”
“Exactly,” I said, my voice rising. “Then what is the point of all the guards and wards? If the murderer can take the guise of a handmaiden—or worse, one of us—then they could go anywhere they want! The wards wouldn’t even stop them—they could just slip through, completely undetected!”
I felt the jolt of realization ripple through him.
He jumped out of bed. “You are correct.”
With a motion of his hand, his clothing changed instantly, and he was already on the move. I followed his lead, dressing with a spell and racing after him. I didn’t care how it looked—me leaving Loki’s room in the middle of the night—we had more important problems to deal with.
He stormed toward Frigga’s chambers. One of the handmaidens jumped as he passed, and I caught up to him just as he reached the doors to his parents’ private sitting room.
“Are both of my parents inside?” he asked sharply. One of the handmaidens nodded.
Loki knocked quickly, and when Frigga called out for him to enter, he pushed open the doors. I followed right behind.
Odin and Frigga were seated near the fire, a drink between them. They both looked surprised.
“Mother,” Loki began, “Aurora has made an important observation. We must strengthen security immediately. If the murderer is the same one responsible for the crimes in Alfheim, then they are not merely using illusion—they possess true shapeshifting abilities, like my own.”
Frigga stood, her expression turning grave. She began to pace. “But how are we to protect against that? The guards cannot distinguish a shapeshifter by appearance alone, and the wards would do nothing to stop them. We cannot track every soul within the palace at all times.”
“I believe I have a solution,” Loki said. “We could erect an additional ward—one designed to scan for a specific and unique magical signature. I would craft a temporary rune, infused with a minor, random spell—say, a healing spell—and mark each individual who requires protection. The ward would permit entry only to those whose rune bears my precise Seiðr trace. Even if the murderer could replicate the rune’s shape, they would not be able to mimic the magical signature within it.
“At the very least, it would protect our private quarters,” Frigga replied, already thinking it through.
Loki nodded. “Precisely. The rune would be harmless and temporary—placed somewhere on the body that is hidden from view.”
Frigga shook her head. “But the power required for a ward over the entire royal wing—and the royal guest quarters—would be immense,” she said. “I could assist you, but it would leave us both significantly depleted. That would be unwise at a time like this.”
“That shall not be necessary,” Loki said, glancing toward me. “Aurora will assist. In Alfheim, I discovered I could draw from her Seiðr. Our magic is similar enough that I can access it with ease. There is minimal energy loss.”
Frigga looked at me, eyebrows raised. I nodded.
“Yes,” I confirmed. “He can do that. I do not know why, but sharing my Seiðr with Loki does not drain me much.”
Odin stood at last, his expression grim. “Then begin. I want this complete before nightfall. I shall gather everyone who requires a rune in Frigga’s sitting room. Go at once.”
Loki gave a crisp nod. “I will begin with the outermost rooms and work inward. Once the wards are set, I will prepare the runes. Please ensure everyone remains within this wing. I shall ward it last.”
Odin agreed, and Loki turned to me.
There was a soft tingle at the back of my neck.
“Aurora, I wish to begin at the far end of the royal wing, but I would try something different,” he said. “Instead of depleting myself and waiting for you to replenish me afterward, I wish to link our Seiðr beforehand. If we combine our magic before I cast the wards, they will be stronger. Would that be acceptable to you?”
“Of course,” I replied, matching his pace as he swept through the halls.
It didn’t take long before I realized where he was going. Within minutes, we reached the guarded door to Muriel’s former quarters. Loki motioned to the sentry, who stepped aside, and we stepped through.
Once inside, Loki motioned for me to come closer. "I am going to place the runes on us first. Otherwise, we would not be able to leave the room after we ward it."
I nodded, though I kept glancing toward the bedroom door, trying not to think about what lay beyond it. Loki caught my look and pulled me into a reassuring hug.
"I am sorry for dragging you here, but it is the first place we must protect. There may be more evidence, so we must preserve the room."
"I understand," I said. "Don’t worry about me—I’ll manage. Let’s get this over with."
Loki pulled back slightly to look at me. "Where do you believe the best placement for the rune would be?"
I thought of the formal clothing in Asgard and Alfheim. "Lower back," I said. "It’s always covered by dresses or long coats."
He nodded and stepped closer, slipping one arm around me and placing his hand gently on my lower back, pressing me against him.
"I will mark you now. As a test, I am going to try linking our Seiðr before placing the rune. It is a simple spell, so we will see if the connection works without causing either of us fatigue. It will also create a dual signature—yours and mine—which would make it nearly impossible for anyone to replicate without both of us."
I nodded, and I felt Loki’s magic reach for mine. I allowed mine to flow into his, surrendering control and letting him guide it. A tingling warmth spread across my lower back, and I could feel the rune take shape.
"Aurora, now place your hands on my lower back," he said through our bond.
I did, mirroring his earlier gesture.
"I am going to try channeling my magic through you now. I want to see if I can direct it to pass through your hands."
The sensation was strange—his Seiðr weaving through me and out of my fingertips. I was used to offering my magic to restore him, not acting as a conduit for his. It took every bit of control not to instinctively wrest the flow back, but I trusted Loki, and I managed to hold steady.
When the energy finally surged out through my hands, Loki smiled.
"Thank you," he said into my mind. "I could feel how hard it was for you not to intervene. It means a great deal that you trust me this much. Now, stay connected with me while I begin the ward."
I nodded and leaned my head against his shoulder for support. Loki worked for about ten minutes, layering intricate magic into the air. The energy draw was minimal thanks to our shared strength, which was good—there were many more rooms to go.
Once finished, we stepped outside and asked the guard to test the ward. The moment he tried to cross the threshold, he was blocked by an invisible force. Loki calmly explained that only those with a rune would be able to enter, and that if anyone appeared in the guise of a royal but failed to pass the ward, they were to be apprehended immediately.
"Even if the person looks like the Allfather himself," Loki added.
The guard nodded, albeit looking slightly shaken. Loki then instructed him to pass the message to the rest of the guards assigned to the royal wings and Muriel’s chamber.
We moved next to the guest wing where King Merinor and his party were housed. As expected, the rooms were empty—Odin had ensured that. One by one, Loki and I placed wards and tested them with guards, relaying the same instructions.
It had been nearly forty minutes of nonstop spellwork. Though I could feel the tug of fatigue, the shared magic helped keep it manageable.
Returning to the royal wing, we checked in with the guard stationed outside the entrance. He informed us that Odin had gathered everyone: the royals and nobles in one room with Frigga, and the essential servants and handmaidens in another.
Loki led me into his chambers to place the final ward.
As I once again leaned into him, I could feel the magic humming between us.
"Aurora," Loki said, "this close contact—like hugging—makes the Seiðr connection easier, but I think we should use a more formal gesture when we are in public."
I nodded.
"So, while we place the runes on the others, I will take your hand, and together we will press our hands to the lower back. That should still allow the rune to be infused with both our signatures. It will be a little more draining, but manageable. If anyone asks, simply say we are combining Seiðr to strengthen the rune."
He always thought of everything. The way he protected our secret bond… he truly lived up to his role as my guardian.
The final ward took longer—unsurprising given the size of the royal wing—but we managed it. I felt the drain more this time, but still nothing that left us incapacitated.
With the wards in place, we moved on to rune placement. We entered Frigga’s reception room. As expected, she and Odin had already explained the purpose of what we were about to do to everyone, so there was no need for further introductions or delays.
We started with Frigga, Odin, and Thor. Then came the Elven nobles. Lady Faelyn stood perfectly still as we placed the rune. Lord Evindal hesitated—clearly displeased—but a single sharp glance from Merinor silenced whatever protest had formed. The king himself was last, offering no resistance as we marked him.
With every rune placed, Loki explained that the wards would only permit access to those marked—and that the location of the rune should remain secret. When the Elves returned to Alfheim, the runes would be safely removed.
"So you and Loki managed to ward every chamber and place every rune in under an hour?" King Merinor asked.
I smiled. "Yes. Loki did the heavy lifting—I just followed instructions. He deserves the credit."
Merinor shook his head. "But it was your observation that caught the weakness in the first place. That deserves credit too."
I nodded. "It just came to me. I could not sleep, and my thoughts kept circling back to the murders, the magic. Then I realized… shapeshifting isn’t detected by wards. That changed everything.”
He gave me a thoughtful look. "Well then, let us hope your insight continues to guide us. Because it may be our best chance of catching whoever did this."
“It seems that you are very in tune with him,” Merinor said, glancing toward Loki. “I have never seen two people work magic together with that level of skill or ease.”
I shrugged. “He is my magic teacher and best friend. I trust him completely, and he taught me everything I know about magic. He has guided me from the very beginning, so I think it is only natural that we work well together.”
Merinor studied me for a moment. “Did Muriel object to your friendship with Loki when you two were still together?” he asked suddenly.
I blinked, caught off guard by the question, but chose to answer honestly.
“In the beginning, yes. I was friends with Loki first, and I made it clear to Muriel—even before we began seeing each other—that if he and Loki couldn’t find a way to get along, there wouldn’t be a future for us. I know they used to be close, though I never learned what drove them apart… but for a time, it looked like they were willing to set it aside. They agreed to a kind of truce.”
I smiled faintly. “For a while, I even thought they might become friends again. Before we left for Alfheim, they were getting along better than I ever expected. But after the breakup, that vanished. Loki took my side.”
Merinor looked at me thoughtfully, and I could sense that my answer confirmed something for him.
“Thank you for your honesty, Aurora. I had a rather heated discussion with my son after what happened in the garden. I will not go into the details, but I questioned him about the breakup. That was when I learned he had hurt you… and that you defended yourself with magic.” He paused, his expression troubled.
“I had assumed it was something more petty—that he lost interest, or that you caught him with someone else, and returned his gifts out of spite.”
I opened my mouth to object, but he raised a hand.
“I know now that was not true—and I was wrong to go after a woman he clearly had deep feelings for. I cannot change what I did. But I am sorry he hurt you, and that you had to protect yourself from him. If I am to be honest… I fear much of his anger stems from my own past mistakes. I feel responsible for the way he turned out. I am grateful you have Prince Loki to watch over you. From what I have seen, he truly has your best interests at heart. That gives me some peace.”
“Thank you,” I said gently. “I’m really sad that I’ll never get the chance to talk things through with Muriel. Looking back, I don’t think we would’ve worked as a couple—but I do regret, deeply, that I’ll never have the chance to process what happened between us. Maybe, with enough time, I could’ve worked through the hurt and—eventually—found a way back to some kind of friendship.”
I blinked hard, trying to keep the tears from spilling. “I don’t even know if I could ever truly forgiven him… but now I’ll never know. That future’s gone. And it hurts more than I expected.”
Merinor’s grief echoed my own, and when he spoke, there was a raw weight behind every word.
“I understand, Aurora. I carry many regrets now that he is gone. There is so much I should have done differently. I know Muriel took the ambassador’s role to escape me—and now, I will never have the chance to repair what was broken between us.”
He exhaled slowly, his voice quieter. “The painful truth is that we must never take for granted the time we have with those we love. Our lives may stretch on for thousands of years… but even so, they can end in a single breath.”
”I heard quiet footsteps behind me and turned to see Frigga and Loki approaching. They had clearly heard the last part.
“Those are beautiful words, Merinor,” Frigga said gently. “Words we should all take to heart. I am glad you and Aurora can share in your grief.”
Merinor inclined his head. “Let me say that I now fully understand why you welcomed this young woman into your family. I do not know how Midgardian succession works, but I can say honestly that she would make an excellent queen.”
Frigga smiled as I flushed. “It seems we share the same vision,” she said, and gently took Merinor’s arm to lead him away.
I turned toward Loki, still blushing.
“It seems you have another admirer,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with amusement. “Everyone seems determined to make a queen out of you.”
I scanned the room and noticed Lord Evindal’s hawk-like gaze fixed on me. The intensity of it made me uneasy—he did not share Merinor’s opinion, that much was clear.
“Well, not everyone agrees,” I murmured, opening our bond as I let Loki feel my discomfort. “Lord Evindal gives me the creeps.”
Loki followed my line of sight. “I know little of him. He was not at court during my stay in Alfheim all those years ago. But from what you show me, I get the distinct impression that he is a manipulative rat. It feels as though he would do anything for power.”
“I could not agree more,” I said. “I think I will steer clear of him. Merinor has been kind, but I have reached my limit with new people. I just want some peace. Nothing distressing for the next hundred years, if I can help it.”
I felt Loki’s worry stir at my words. “Do not worry,” I added gently. “If not for the promise I made to your mother, helping her with Merinor, I would have locked myself in the library with a book and a hot drink for the next month.”
Loki grinned. “You paint such pretty pictures. Be careful, or I might lock us both in the library and throw away the key.”
I smiled. “You be careful, or I might let you.”
“You two appear to be amusing yourselves,” came a sudden voice beside us.
I hadn’t noticed Lord Evindal approach. His tone immediately set my nerves on edge.
I glanced at him and replied politely, “I am simply enjoying my company.”
He studied me, his voice sharp beneath a veneer of civility. “Yes, it does appear that you have a talent for surrounding yourself with important company.”
I stiffened. The implication was clear—he was suggesting I had deliberately attached myself to powerful people, that my place among them was earned through manipulation or charm rather than merit. His words were a veiled accusation, one that questioned my integrity without saying it outright.
“I suppose I have been very lucky,” I replied coolly, forcing a polite smile even as my stomach turned.
“Luck has nothing to do with it,” Loki said, his tone perfectly measured but edged with frost. “Those who lead with sincerity and integrity tend to inspire loyalty. It is unfortunate that such virtues are often dismissed by those who imagine power can only be gained through cunning alone.”
His gaze met Evindal’s with poised intensity—civil, but unmistakably cold. The tension between them hung sharp in the air.
“Oh—look at the time,” I said lightly, forcing a breezy tone in an attempt to cut through the rising frost. “Forgive me, but I really must get ready for the banquet.”
The others seemed to take the hint, and the small gathering began to disperse. Loki turned to me, but instead of heading for my chambers, he glanced toward the adjoining room.
“We still have work to finish,” he said. “The staff and handmaidens are waiting.”
Right—Frigga had explained earlier that only the most essential and trusted members of the palace staff had been chosen to remain. They were waiting in the next room to receive their runes, allowing them to pass through the new wards.
I gave a small sigh and nodded.
As we walked side by side toward the room, I glanced up at him with a faint smile. “You know, you really don’t have to start a war with everyone who doesn’t like me. You’re already my knight in shining armor. Don’t get yourself in trouble on my account.”
Loki arched a brow but smiled, a glint of mischief behind the formality. “You forget—it is my role to protect you. Not only because I wish to, but because I must. You are my friend, and I am your guardian. And let us not forget—I am the mean, terrible son of Odin. It would be a disgrace to my reputation if I started behaving cordially. Imagine if I simply stood by while someone dared to speak down to you.”
I chuckled despite myself. “The horror.”
His smile deepened, and we pushed open the next door, ready to finish what we started.
After what felt like an endless string of wards, runes, and people, we were finally done. The moment Odin dismissed us, I made a direct line for my room, eager to get away from the tension and emotion that still clung to every corner of the palace.
As I entered, Yara was already waiting. I let out a long breath and made straight for the bathing chamber. The hot water worked wonders, easing muscles I hadn’t realized were sore. For the first time that day, I felt myself begin to relax.
Afterward, Yara helped me into another dark purple dress—this one clearly leaning more toward Asgardian style. She selected the jewelry she deemed appropriate, and I concentrated on the stones, shifting them to a deep, nearly black violet hue. The dress had wide outer sleeves and a second tight layer beneath, so we decided to skip the bracelets tonight. Just the small crown, a hair comb, a necklace, and my earrings would suffice.
As Yara styled my hair, I let myself melt into her touch. I’d never been to an Asgardian-style memorial before, so I asked her what to expect. She told me it was much like any banquet, only centered around sharing stories of the deceased and raising a glass in their honor.
I couldn’t help but smirk. Leave it to the Asgardians to make drinking appropriate for any occasion.
Once we were done, it was still early. I curled up on the sofa with a book, telling myself I should try to relax. I really meant what I’d said to Loki earlier—I wished we could just hide away in his library for a month. The peace, the quiet... the safety of being next to him.
I scolded myself. I had a good life, more than I’d ever thought possible. There was no point in brooding over the responsibilities that came with it.
Still, I couldn’t focus. My eyes kept drifting over the same lines of text without absorbing a word. Without Loki to snuggle against, reading felt oddly hollow. His presence had become such a comfort—like a shield I didn’t know I needed until it was gone. Was it strange to miss him like this? To crave his warmth, his voice, the way he made the world feel just a little more manageable?
I shook my head. I was being ridiculous. He probably saw me like a sister—just like Thor did. I’d never sensed anything else from him, not even a flicker of deeper interest. And I would know. With my empathy, it would’ve been impossible to miss. Every time he touched me, every time we talked, I would’ve felt something… something more, if it were there.
But I never had.
That truth always settled like a stone in my stomach. Loki had comforted me, protected me, laughed with me—but it was never laced with desire or romantic warmth. Just steady friendship, unwavering loyalty, maybe even love—but the kind you give to someone you’ve sworn to protect or a family member. Nothing more.
I hated that it hurt. I hated that I wanted more. And most of all, I hated that I couldn’t seem to stop.
I remembered how horrified he’d been when he realized we’d had sex. How quickly he’d pulled away, afraid he’d damaged our friendship—or worse, that he might’ve hurt me. That said everything, didn’t it? He hadn’t treated that night as something meaningful, something to treasure. To him, it was just an unfortunate mistake, a moment blurred by magic and emotion—one he feared had crossed a line he never meant to breach.
He’d made a few jokes about it since, lighthearted and teasing, but I’d never felt even a hint of longing or desire from him. If anything, it seemed like he’d gone out of his way to forget it ever happened.
And that was fine. It really was. I should want that too. I was lucky, in a way—that I only remembered the facts of that night and not how it had felt. I knew it had been good—very good—but not remembering the details of the feelings was a strange mercy. It spared me the ache of missing something I couldn’t have again. I should’ve been glad that things weren’t awkward between us. That we could still laugh, still work together, still sleep curled up without tension. I should have been grateful.
But instead, I kept wondering what it might be like if he did feel something. If he looked at me and saw more than a student or a best friend. If he touched me and didn’t pull away. If he kissed me—not by accident, not through magic or grief—but because he meant to. Because he wanted to. Because he longed for it.
I squeezed my eyes shut. Stop it. He doesn’t. He never has.
I shoved the thoughts to the furthest part of my mind—something I’d gotten very good at lately. Just in case the bond flared open unexpectedly, I couldn’t risk him feeling any of it. I couldn’t risk ruining the only closeness I had.
It wasn’t fair—I knew that. He couldn’t sense me the way I sensed him. But I couldn’t stand the idea of him knowing just how deeply I felt… and it ruining everything between us. Yes, I wanted more. But sometimes I forgot how incredibly lucky I already was—having him as my guardian, my best friend. I would do anything to protect that. Even bury this crush so deep it never saw the light of day. For me, maybe… but more so for him. Because I knew he needed me as a friend, and I would never risk that. Not for anything.
A knock pulled me from the spiral of my thoughts. I saw Yara move quickly to answer the door.
Loki stepped inside, and I set my book aside, smoothing my expression into a careful smile. I imagined every flicker of emotion tucked neatly away, like it had never existed. I could feel my Seiðr respond, quietly helping, and I was grateful for it.
“I hope you do not mind me escorting you,” he said, offering his arm.
“Don’t you always?” I asked, confused but already rising to take it.
He grinned. “Yes, but knowing there may be a murderer in our midst, I feel even more protective.” Then, in a mock-formal tone, he added, “I hope you will also allow me to escort you back to your room tonight.”
I grinned. “Well certainly, my prince. Who am I to object to such chivalry?”
“It has nothing to do with chivalry,” Loki said with a sly smile. “It is pure selfishness on my part.”
I laughed. “Still no objection on my part.”