that they have become closer since her awakening.” He paused and tilted his head, inspiration brightening his green eyes until they flowed like emerald fire. “Talk to the crone. I’ve heard quite the juicy rumor regarding a certain collection she’s amassed over the centuries. One treasure in particular should interest you deeply.”
“What sort of treasure?”
Loki clicked his tongue at her. “Tsk. What fun is there if I tell you everything right away?”
“How would you know what Agnes has in her hovel she calls a home?”
“Your jealousy is showing, my dear. The witch owns half of the antique galleries in the country and has come across all manner of things, many of which I have bartered for.”
“So you’ve laid eyes on this one object?”
“I watched her acquire it.” A slow smile gradually transformed his face into the picture of mischief, resembling the Cheshire Cat. “And it rankles her to no end, knowing I witnessed one of her greatest crimes. Tell her Loki has called in her aid, and together, we will punish Belenos for his transgressions against us.”
“But Loki, he hasn’t done anything against her. The hag wants to come out in the open, remember? What will make her help us when she wants what he does?”
“Because,” he answered while circling his thumb over one dusky nipple, “if our brethren were to discover what she possesses, she would suffer a fate worse than any mortal death. They would hunt her to the ends of the earth.”
“You make it sound as if she has a dragon sleeping in her cellar.”
“Not quite, but close enough.”
***
“What do I wear?” Ēostre wondered out loud.
Since returning from her hibernation, she’d received frequent lessons from her new daughter about modern-day fashion. Chloe loved to dress her, and the only thing she loved more than dressing Ēostre with her choices of wardrobe was introducing the dragoness to favorite stores and watching her acquire a style of her own.
Ēostre had developed a true love for leggings and oversized shirts when the mood didn’t call for a sophisticated wardrobe.
“Is it too warm for leggings? No, it’s never too warm for leggings,” she determined. She imagined the outfit she desired and pictured the dresser drawer in her mind’s eye. The folded pile of quicksilver material appeared in a flash and landed upon her open palms.
After showering away the day’s stress, she wiggled into the leggings and wore them with a mid-thigh-length white tunic. She even traded the day’s earlier choice of fancy pumps for flat, roman-style sandals. With her hair worn loose around her shoulders, Ēostre admired her reflection with a smile.
“I look magnificent,” she spoke to the air. Perfect for the cameras and paparazzi who would no doubt photograph them together. Before the dragoness could take a step toward the door with her purse, her tablet rang with an irritating notification to alert her to an incoming Facetime request. She checked it.
“Hello, Astrid my love, what may I do for you?” she asked the girl.
“I want to talk about boys,” Astrid said bluntly, wearing a stern expression on her youthful face.
“Oh?”
“Yeah,” she replied. “They freaking stink.”
This should be a good one, Ēostre mused. She listened intently to the start of Astrid’s next points, and it didn’t take long before she was chuckling through the video call.
“So he isn’t your friend anymore because he ate the turtles?” Ēostre asked to clarify.
“He’s an ass, and I don’t really want to visit anymore, but Mom and Dad said I have to.”
“What other mean things does he do?”
Astrid sighed. “He pushed me over on the beach with his dragon form and rubbed wet sand all over my hair,” she complained. “And then he wouldn’t apologize when Aunt Marcy told him he had to do it. Aside from that, he never wants to visit here. He never comes away from his stupid island. I don’t want to go see him tomorrow and they