Smitten

by Vivienne Savage

  “Thank you, my love.”

  Ēostre nodded. “They’re in a magical state of sleep, but it won’t last long. Speak fast.”

  Kenneth Palmer stared at her. Once the shock wore away, he turned his glowering face to Max. “Half an hour, you said.”

  “Relax, Kenneth. I’m here now and perfectly fine.”

  “Were you one of those dragons on the television?” Palmer hissed at him. “I can’t believe you chose this moment to disappear. Your security team panicked, the White House has been in an uproar, and you left me here without any answers.”

  “Chastise me later, my friend.” Maximilian smoothed his fingers over his suit jacket and maintained his poise. “Right now, I need a media team ready for a public address.”

  “I’ve had one standing by since this all began. They’re set up in the Oval Office. I have reporters from every station clamoring for news.”

  “They can wait. What are the numbers so far? How many lives lost?”

  “The early estimates are about one hundred and thirty-nine. Sixty unaccounted for. Now tell me what is happening and why there were so many of you there. It was something out of a sword and sorcery movie.”

  “An old friend of mine was buried in Rainier’s magma pool once. He was deceased at the time, Kenneth. Slain by a dragon hunter and completely dead, but something seems to have resurrected him.” The vice president opened his mouth to speak, but Max beat him to the punch, “I can tell you right now that he didn’t cause it, but that volcanic eruption wasn’t natural either.”

  “Shit.” Palmer ran his hand through his thinning hair. “Well, we have too many videos on the internet and news to try and cover up this dragon issue. You have to come forward.”

  “I know. I’d planned on it.”

  Ēostre turned to address the other room occupants in the room, whispering under her breath. Their blank, slack-jawed faces and motionless poses resembled wax figures, but they awakened within seconds, including the one who had gone for his firearm. One by one, they blinked and shook their heads to clear away the fog.

  None of them questioned his unusual appearance among them, and he knew he had Ēostre to thank. A little magic went a long way, but even she lacked the spells to fix the day’s events. Sooner or later, he’d have to answer for their abrupt disappearance and the two hours they were missing.

  One stepped aside and spoke in a hushed tone through his microphone, no doubt informing other agents Max had arrived.

  “Do you want the press admitted?”

  “No. They’ll get their chance soon. For now I need to speak directly to the American public without interference.” They headed down the hall as they talked, where Max noted an increased presence of the Secret Service. One of his own personal protection retinues fell into step behind them. Most remained outside once he stepped into his office, but two men followed inside and took up position by the door.

  “Are we ready, everyone?”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. President.”

  “You can do this, Bel.” Ēostre hugged him tightly.

  “Of course I can.” He cracked a half-hearted grin at her. “I’m the president.”

  Once Ēostre took her place out of the camera’s view, Maximilian settled behind the desk. His fingers automatically steepled and the gravity of the recent catastrophe came crashing down on him at once. He’d never felt all of his twenty-seven centuries before. Never. Now he felt every year.

  Ēostre mouthed, “I love you” from the edge of the room.

  “And we’re live in five, four,” the cameraman said, counting down the final three in silence.

  “This afternoon, the world watched as the United States experienced a horrific natural disaster. In the aftermath of this tragedy, despite the loss of one hundred and thirty-nine lives during the eruption of Mount Rainier, attention has shifted to another development with just cause.”

  He clasped his hands together, palms clammy, and looked into the camera. He imagined the hundreds of thousands of faces staring at their television screens.

  “Tonight, I want to address all your concerns, and to bring you the truth. Supernatural and magical beings of all varieties are real… and I am one of them,” Maximilian said from behind his desk, his stoic features concealing the dismay ruling his thoughts.

  “Paranormal creatures such as the ones sighted above Mount Rainier are known as dragons. I am still gathering the facts about what has happened so that if wrongdoing has occurred, the responsible parties may be punished. The truth is that we don’t know yet why this dragon has appeared. So far, we have no evidence to indicate the creature intentionally executed an act of aggression against the public, and every reason to believe the volcanic activity drew him from a deep slumber.”

  Max ignored the staring faces in his office and continued.

  “My fellow Americans, I have dwelled in this country since its inception, long before its Founding Fathers first signed documents creating our nation. The United States has long been a melting pot of many cultures, and I want you to know nothing has changed since our emergence.”

  The faces continued to stare. Gaping mouths, wide eyes. One of the Secret Service agents assigned to his protection looked like a fish. He felt their condemnation and judgment piercing him. Their apprehension.

  “I will hold a press conference tomorrow evening to address questions from the American public. It is my hope that in the coming days, we are able to pull together as a nation of many cultures, races, and now, other intelligent non-human species. In closing, I want to say here today, in the office you elected me to represent, that no matter your skin color, race, religion, or species we are all equal in this country. I ask you to give me a chance to prove that you have nothing to fear from us. Like you, we learn, work, and love. We are people. Thank you.”

  The light on the camera went dark.

  “And we’re off the air.”

  “You’re all staring at me,” Max said quietly. “If any of you have any questions, speak them now.”

  The young cameraman opened his mouth to speak, then snapped it shut without voicing his question. Instead he busied himself with breaking down his equipment.

  A fresh-faced Secret Service agent assigned to Ēostre spoke up when everyone else failed. “If you’re magical, sir, what about the first lady? Does this mean we’re no longer needed?”

  “I am also magical,” she replied gently. “But your presence makes me feel safer just the same.”

  Max shook his head. “I’m not bulletproof, and you’re not out of a job. None of you are out of a job until they’ve kicked me out of this office. As far as I can tell, you’ll be needed even more in the coming days if any dragon-hunters decide it’s time for me to make a hasty exit from office. Using the full extent of my abilities to protect myself would only terrify the world at this point.”

  “Dragon-hunters?” This time the cameraman found his voice. He looked over with wide eyes and pale cheeks. “You’re a dragon? Like the thing we saw flying above the mountain on the reports?”

  “Indeed,” Max replied. He let his gaze turn to every man and woman in the room, meeting their gazes. “I know it sounds fantastical, insane even, but every word is true. We didn’t disappear and give our security the slip in Hawaii to avoid our responsibilities,” he spoke, addressing the agents currently assigned to him. They’d been giving him funny eyes since his return. “We took action before the volcano could claim more lives. We, along with several other dragons, hurried to Rainier and stopped it.”

  Ēostre joined him behind the desk and took his hand. Years ago when they first concocted their crazy plan to strive for office, he never imagined she’d stand beside him as his wife. Now he couldn’t imagine being without her.

  “If any of you choose to step down, I will understand. It will not be held against your service record, and you will be reassigned to a position of equal esteem and salary.”

  No one moved, though there were a few uncertain glances.


  “You did well, Max,” Palmer said kindly. “I suspect I’ll receive a lot of questions asking if I’ve known all along about this. I’ll tell them I only ran with you because you were a dragon and had to have better economic skills than our last big spenders.” The vice president shot him a grin.

  Max chuckled weakly. “I should show you my hoard one day, my friend. You guessed right. As for the rest of you, I ask you to keep what was said here off camera between us and key members of the service staff until tomorrow. They deserve to know the truth.”

  “Of course, sir,” the same agent said. “As for requesting a transfer, you’ll have to fire me to get me out of here now. My kids are going to lose their minds once they find out their dad is assigned to protect a dragon.”

  ***

  “What’s happening back at Saul’s estate? Have you called since we left?” Max asked while unknotting his tie. He fumbled with uncooperative fingers until Ēostre stepped in front of him and deftly removed the knot. “Thanks.”

  Ēostre smiled and kissed his lips tenderly. “Nothing to worry you just yet. They said Fafnir has spent the entire day coiled around some of his old treasures and counting the additions since he left. Saul removed Astrid to Leiv and Mahasti’s cabin, of course, as he mentioned before.”

  “And Chloe?”

  “She won’t leave, but the…” She swallowed and struggled to maintain her reassuring smile. “The sword is in her possession. Just in case. As she’s currently pregnant, she should be able to use its magic again.” She returned to taking her accounting of the belongings in their bedroom as well as those in the rest of the Executive Residence. Somehow, in the span of hours during their wedding, every possession had been unpacked and placed as if she’d done it herself.

  Max’s figurine, the one he’d crafted and pieced together tenderly with love, had been placed on the stand located on her side of the bed. She liked it there where she could admire his talent.

  “I understand,” Max said. “It won’t come to that, Ēostre. It won’t. Fafnir loves his son, and he’d never do anything to make Saul hate him. Despise Chloe, he may, but hurting her and an unborn child is simply beyond his capability.”

  Ēostre whirled to face him. “The things he said, Bel. He ordered Saul to kill her.”

  Max shook his head. “He had to know Saul couldn’t do that. When I look at your son and his wife, I can sense the soul bond surging between them, just as he could sense the bond uniting us. Do you see? It was talk. Foolish words said in the heat of the moment and anger, nothing more.”

  “Perhaps.” Ēostre remained unconvinced. Quietly, she settled on the edge of the bed and gazed out the window. Their new but temporary residence didn’t yet have the feeling of home despite the nights she had snuck in to sleep beside him. Making it official hadn’t changed things.

  “Will you be all right here while I handle this disaster?” Max asked.

  “I’ll be fine,” Ēostre assured him. “This is home for us now, and I know where to find you. Go.”

  “Are you—”

  “Go.”

  Max nodded his head and stepped from the room, leaving Ēostre to her own activities.

  How could this happen? For over a hundred years, I’ve wanted nothing more than for you to return to my side, and now… our time is over, Fafnir. Ēostre traced tiny circles over the smooth comforter. She tried to estimate the thread count of the cotton blend beneath it, and focusing on the trivial matters helped to blot out the horrors of the day.

  “This wallpaper is hideous,” she muttered. She stood from the bed and strode over the cream carpet to the window, lush fibers shifting beneath her bare toes. “And I miss my balcony.”

  The petty complaints brought a smile to her face and grounded her back to the reality of being America’s first lady.

  With a view of the south lawn and Constitution Avenue ahead of her, Ēostre plucked the mobile phone from her purse and dialed Saul. He picked up promptly, startling her with his speed.

  “Is everything all right?” Ēostre asked. “Where’s Chloe?”

  “In our bedroom resting. Why?”

  She exhaled a relieved sigh. “I worried a little, is all.”

  “Father would have to go through me to harm a single hair on her head. We’ve been talking.” Ēostre heard the hesitation in her son’s voice, as he whispered, “I don’t think he meant what he said, but I don’t intend to trust him with her either. Would you like to speak to Chloe?”

  “No, I won’t disturb her.”

  A quiet, peaceful silence fell between mother and son. She stood by the window with the phone cradled between her shoulder and ear, gazing out over the immense stretch of manicured lawn.

  “This will all sort itself out, Mother. Have faith in that.”

  “Saul!” Chloe’s voice echoed through the manor, reaching Ēostre’s ears through the line.

  “Ah, she must be awake.”

  “Must be,” Ēostre replied dryly.

  “She’s surprised me a time or two. With this pregnancy, she has nightmares. Nothing about it is the same as when she carried Astrid, and once again, we have only her and Marcy’s experiences.” He paused as Chloe called for him again. “Give me a moment—”

  Ēostre chuckled. “No. No, go find out what your wife needs, and call me if anything happens with your father. I love you.”

  “And I love you. Pass my regards to Maximilian.”

  Ēostre pressed the little red button to end the call and set the phone on the desk in passing. Not a fingerprint on the polished surface. The writing desk, like all other facets of the master bedroom, appeared entirely brand new from top to bottom without a sign of its previous occupants. If she reached down deeply and felt with her magic, she could find the soul of the room and feel a glimmer of the people once there. Their sorrows, their celebrations, and the events that shaped each presidential era, but even her fine dragon’s sense of smell couldn’t detect a whiff of their predecessors.

  Will it be like this for us? Never really feeling at home? Leaving no imprint of ourselves when we leave?

  The thought was a lonely one. Before her wistful mood made the full transition to melancholy, Ēostre broke the cycle by snooping through Max’s things. She found the bulk of her belongings stored within a walk-in closet behind a hidden panel. There, she continued her accounting of her personal effects, only to come upon a strange chest at the rear of the room.

  “That isn’t mine.” She furrowed her brow and found a note taped to the lid.

  Do not open, by order of President Emberthorn.

  Ēostre sniffed daintily and popped the ancient lock with magic. The aged wood creaked, smelling of old saline and memories of the sea. She flipped open the lid. Instead of finding pirate booty, she revealed a treasure trove of sweet cakes, protein bars, jerky, packaged tuna, and sardine cans. “What in the name of the Ancestors is this?”

  Some dragon had a lot of explaining to do.

  “Trash. All trash. Is this what he eats at night?”

  Leaving the closet behind, she stepped from the bedroom into the casual west sitting hall. A wide, central hallway connected it to the east sitting hall, stretching from one side of the grand residence to the opposite side where historic bedrooms awaited with priceless relics from another era.

  “There you are!” came an enthusiastic cry from Ēostre’s rear. She turned to see Max’s personal maid, Lynette, emerging from the second floor kitchen to greet her.

  “Were you looking for me?”

  “Not exactly, but I was hoping to run into you. It feels like forever since we’ve talked.”

  “Darling. We see each other almost every day.”

  “But it isn’t every day that you’re the first lady of the United States,” Lynette said teasingly. Then her bright smile dimmed and concerned touched her brown eyes. “What’s happening? Is Max in trouble? Ever since his speech, the staff have been speculating about what’s happened and whether it’s safe to continue working aroun
d all of this. I’ve been picking up tidbits here and there, I heard one of the housekeepers whispering to another in the linen closet a moment ago about being afraid.”

  Ēostre’s heart thumped in her chest, a miniature explosion of anxiety slamming her ribcage. “All of them?”

  “No, only a few,” Lynette clarified. “I don’t think they’re all afraid. The head housekeeper asked me if I knew all along though.”

  “And what did you tell her?”

  “I said hell yeah. I also said he’s Tolkien’s inspiration for Smaug the Great and Terrible. I don’t know if that helped.”

  “Lynette—”

  “I’m joking. The head chef though. He was having a real tizzy, except, I don’t think it was an angry one. He’s freaking out about how to feed not one but two dragons. He was rambling about raw steers or something when I passed by.”

  “I haven’t eaten a raw steer in… well, not since Leiv asked us to cull his herd of the older animals.” Ēostre pressed her lips together and glanced into the wide-open space behind Lynette. Like the rest of the residence, it had been styled to his personal tastes shortly after his inauguration, and the large sitting room window at its end shed abundant sunlight into the furnished corridor. “Wait, how does the chef know?”

  “He’s an executive chef, Ēostre. That makes him senior staff. Besides,” Lynette paused and gave a nervous twist of her hair. “Gossip actually spreads pretty quickly through the staff, but it never goes beyond these walls from what I’ve seen this past year.”

  “Should I go speak to him?”

  Lynette thoughtfully pursed her lips, then nodded. “I would. We all know you from your visits here as a guest but… you’re a fixture now. Let them see you’re more than what the stories say. That you’re a woman who loves stir-fried rice and sesame chicken as much as the next person.

  “I really do,” Ēostre admitted. “I could go for a large order now, even if Max claims it’s never spicy enough.”

  The young woman nudged her in the ribs with her elbow. “Then get it done, missy.”

  They embraced like old friends, much to the surprise of a passing housekeeper tidying a nearby picture frame in the central hall. When they separated, Ēostre drifted to the middle-aged human woman and flashed a friendly smile. “Hello,” she offered.