Loki strode down the long lavish corridor, smiling to himself. He was dressed in a ruffled white silk shirt and a long black coat that all but trailed the floor, the high collar rising to encircle his slender neck. His hair had been adorned with several braids. One of his arms was extended, and his fingertips were running across the sparkling mica wall. His thoughts turned to the previous night. He grinned with delight, turning delicately on one foot, improvising a dance as he continued down the shimmering hallway.
He came to a halt outside of a closed door. Intricate carvings of flowers festooned the polished surface. He reached out and wrapped softly on the wood.
After a few moments of silence, the door opened slowly to reveal a small woman standing in the threshold. She had long brunette hair that trailed down past her shoulders, and bright emerald eyes that regarded him kindly.
"Dimitri, you're back." A smile lit up her features. "Come inside, love. Tell me, how was your trip?"
Loki stepped into her room, twirling around once more before taking a seat on the edge of her bed.
"Well, you seem to be in a good mood," she observed as she closed the door and came to sit beside him.
"Oh, Maeve," he breathed. "It was marvelous." His smile widened, but his gaze was locked in some memory. He shifted it back to her. "I met someone."
"Oh? And who might that be?" She smiled expectantly.
"Israel," Loki said reverently. "He was so beautiful." He smiled at her, taking her hands in his. "Oh Maeve, you mustn't tell anyone!"
"You have my word, Dimitri. So tell me…who is this young man?"
"Emperor Israel Chaim Yazid of the Tellurian Empire," Loki recited swiftly.
"That's quite a title," Maeve mused. She seemed to hesitate. "But Dimitri…do you think the Judicium would approve?"
Loki tilted his head to the side curiously. "What do you mean?"
Maeve shifted. "Well…if I may presume to inform, it goes against their laws to take someone who is not of kindred blood to be your consort…"
"So that means," Loki continued dramatically, "that there will be terrible consequences if we're found!" He grinned at her.
"Dimitri. That's not funny. You would be endangering yourself along with everyone else here."
"Maeve…" He took her face in his hands. "Please. We'll be careful. They won't know." His eyes pleaded with her. "I promise…no one here will be harmed."
"My Prince, are you sure about this?" Maeve asked apprehensively.
Loki closed his eyes with a sigh. "Maeve…if you'd only seen him. He's worth it." Loki smiled. So terribly worth it…
Maeve sighed, defeated. "Please be careful, love."
"Oh, I will." He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "Thank you, Maeve." He sprang to his feet and skipped towards the door. He hesitated. "Promise you won't tell the others?"
"You have my word, Dimitri."
He flashed a dazzling smile and dashed out of the room.
Israel dipped the tip of his paintbrush into ivory tinted paint, and then carefully brought it across the canvas. The details of Loki's face were nearly perfect. Israel had been unable to forget the seductive features of the gorgeous vampire. He could clearly recall his raven hair, dark, but all too inviting eyes, and overly sweet smile. That face was lodged in his memory like a knife.
He laid the brush on the tray of the easel and closed his eyes, picturing the scene from only a week before: a perfect, gentle Loki, leaning over him lovingly. The memories of that night flooded back to him. He was so amazing…, Israel thought. He fell back on the blue satin sheets of his bed and sighed.
"Emperor Yazid?"
He snapped out of his daydreams and jumped out of the bed. He quickly, but carefully, threw a paint-stained cloth over his masterpiece, and swiftly ran to the door.
"Yes, Duke Destan! I'm coming!" He opened the door and faced a tall man with graying navy hair. "What is it, Uncle?" he asked tentatively.
"Dinner is prepared, Emperor Yazid," Cresswell stated bluntly. His dark teal eyes and questioning stare made Israel shift nervously. "Exactly why are you still up here?"
"I…just lost track of time, Uncle. I'm sorry. I'll be down shortly." He went back into his room and grabbed his coat. He pulled it on and straightened his clothes in his mirror.
Cresswell leaned against the frame of the door and watched him. "And why were you late getting back to Telluria? Did you also lose track of time in Europe?"
Israel stared down at his feet. "I guess so. I was distracted by some of the…sights there. Before I knew it, it was too dark to fly back." He walked past Cresswell and headed for the dining hall. "Will you be eating with us, Uncle?"
Cresswell nodded, looking Israel up and down. "I cannot help but notice that you seem different lately, though. This entire week, ever since you returned…"
"I haven't the slightest idea what you mean," Israel answered. "Maybe you're simply imagining things. You shouldn't be so overprotective, Uncle." He flashed Cresswell a smile and started walking down the corridor.
"…Perhaps…" Cresswell's eyes narrowed slightly as he followed.