"As much as you like, min hvite sommerfugl." Loki smiles, a warm thing that turns sharp at the edges. "You were jealous, I think, when you felt hurt. No one has been jealous over me before. Well. That I know of."

He might invite any number of feelings in others, but he rarely knows which for certain until they're being hurled at him. "I know you trust my skill and judgment.

What will you do with your days, with both of your gentlemen gone to Wycome?"