"Of course not. Your voice is as beautiful as a chorus of birds in the morning light." He spread out his arms and spun around. He stopped and made a heart shape with his hands.

 

Had she believed his words produced more than empty compliments she would have perhaps blushed. Instead, her eyes rolled as if they had a life of their own. With a rough yank, she dragged him across the room, and set him in front of the chair. A satiny purple cloth lay folded on the cushion. "Undress and lay that on your lap. I’ll turn around."

 

She did as she promised, turning to face the wall. Imagining the amount of stripes that might’ve been used to paint the wall and counting them, suddenly seemed like a fun idea. Unfortunately, it did not in fact distract her enough to block out the sound of his clothes being removed. She made a note to work on thinking through her ‘brilliant’ ideas before making decisions. The kingdom might very well depend on it!

 

"I’m ready, Your Highness."

The purple satin laid across his bare lap. It looked like wine dripping down his crossed legs. Long slender fingers played absently with one end of the cloth as his head was turned to the side viewing the bedchamber. Even the profile of his face was beautiful. Nose uniquely shaped with a rounded bridge. Fingers rested against his sharp jaw. Lips plump and soft-looking. He looked soft everywhere. Down across his flushed chest and pink nipples perked from the chill, over the ridges of ribs pressed against his skin like ripples of water, and his belly which still rolled at his waist and pudged a pinch below his belly button- he was soft.

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair as he turned toward her, "Are you going to start?"

 

A shiver ran down her spine and she jumped a bit in her skin as his black eyes stared piercingly at her. "I'm getting a lay of the land," she pinched her brows together as she moved to her easel.

 

Pearl white teeth glinted at her, "So you didn't get so distracted by my beauty you forgot what you were doing?"

 

"Not at all," a lie. Of course she was distracted, anyone would be. She convinced herself. Otherwise, he wouldn't have such a reputation about him. Women wouldn't pay him if he weren't as beautiful as she found him to be.

 

He was quiet, still, as she followed the curves of his body with the paint brush. It surprised her, having expected him to chatter incessantly. Instead, a perfect porcelain statue sat before her surrounded by fluttering candle lights casting grey shadows against the dips of his slender frame. Only the slight involuntary twitches of muscles, momentary tap of a long, bony finger, and soft slow blinks of long lashes reminded her that the character before her was made of flesh. She wished he would talk to her, maybe the quick thrum of her heart would slow. He must have questions for her. People always got excited when they had a chance to talk to her. More like how he was in her painting room. But less passionate, less… fascinating.

 

As the brush brought life into his skin, she realized he was made of more than silk smooth white pearl. Pink flushed not only his chest but his cheeks, the high points of his shoulders, and knuckles. Purplish veins peeked under his bangs at his temples, across his chest, and through his limbs, protruding along his forearm as if wishing to rip through his skin. The deep purple-blue under his eyes evidence of his sleepless nights.

 

Vergil had such a look that she wondered if her paints were enough to capture the truest essence of him or the emotion that looking at him created. No woman she'd ever eternalized could uphold the standard of intrigue to which he represented.

A small, shy smile pushed up the corners of his lips almost imperceptible but for her staring heavily at him for such a time that her eyes practically embedded themselves into him. The flush of his cheeks spread across his face like water color bleeding through paper, slowly and uncontrolled. The high points of his ears fought to rival the color of her hair. Despite all this, he kept his position, moving no more than shivers along his flesh.

 

"I haven't much left to finish," Amalia said in reassurance.

He snorted as if clinging to his pride as a person not so easily affected. The hard gulp afterwards said otherwise. Though, her own pride had flared knowing she had elicited this shyness in him. Despite all the women he kept company. It was like magic, the colors she was creating on her subject and on her painting.

 

He was the catalyst of her magic.

 

When she was finally done she turned back around for him to cover his nakedness. She missed it. Not in some creepy, mind eaten way, but his vulnerability. After so many hours together, she’d become attached to the feeling of trust that’d formed between them.

 

"I've never wanted to pull my clothes on around a lady so quickly."

 

The amused sound that came out of her throat was probably the ugliest noise she'd ever produced. Yet, when she heard the final rustling of his clothes and turned back to face him, his smile was still as charming as ever.

 

She dropped a bag of coins in his hands and said, "Leave."

 

"How typical," he said, walking backwards towards the window, pocketing his payment. "Kicking me out once I've been used up."

 

It made her wonder. She didn’t know much about his family other than that his father had been a wealthy merchant. He should have left quite an inheritance for his family. She couldn’t imagine he’d left his wife and three sons to figure things out by themselves. It made little sense that Vergil had need of making money in such an unscrupulous manner. Maybe she was overthinking it and it was just an odd hobby of his.

 

She cleared her head as she assisted him out the window. There was no point in thinking about it when it wasn’t like she was going to get any answers any time soon.

 

"And do be careful, follow the same path you did coming in." She reminded him of the directions to which he nodded disinterestedly like a child receiving a repeat of a lesson. "It would be oh so inconvienant to me if you lost your head."

 

"I know. I'm the most fascinating conversationalist you've met," he finished by sliding quickly down the rope. She panicked as she tightened her grip on the rope that threatened to fall out the window after him. A blown kiss from the ground was the response to her angry glare down at him.

 

"A beheading is the least worrisome way he'll get himself killed," she mumbled to herself. 

It wasn’t until she saw his small silhouette hail and board a carriage that she stood up away from the window. A feeling of ease and peace washed over her now that he’d finally left. Though she was grateful for his agreeableness she was ready for the night to be over. The canvas stood dead center of her room and would be seen immediately upon entry, she groaned. She quickly hid it away behind some dresses in her closet making sure that the wet paint was neither touched by the wall nor the dresses.

 

Once that was taken care of she put him out of her mind. She slipped into her nightgown and readied herself for bed. Dreamland drew closer as she sighed underneath her covers. It was so close, the warmth surrounded her. A tapping at her window had her eyes shooting open. She swung out of bed, frustratedly pulled her shawl around her shoulders and went to the window. She pressed her hand to the glass and peered out. Vergil was standing there staring up at her, hand lifted ready to throw something. He dropped it upon noticing her at the window. With a roll of her eyes, she grabbed the rope and threw it down for him.

 

When he safely had two feet on the floor she said, "What are you doing here? Did you want everyone to find you throwing rocks at my window?"

 

He bit his lip, avoided her gaze, and rocked back and forth on his heels. Finally he looked at her, eyes brimming with worry. Her heart swooped in concern. "It’s my brother," he said, hand coming up to pull the hair behind his ear. The nurturing side of her disregarded her own worries about what he might say to place a comforting hand on his arm. He relaxed, leaving his hair to hold her hand. "Mama said a knight came by to pick him up saying it’s for something small, but that he was suspicious. He’s still not back and there’s been no word."

 

She looked toward the door. Earlier, while she was readying for bed, the guards had been making noise. It sounded like something serious, but she had been too tired to consider it at the time. She turned back to him, rubbing his arm, she told him, "I’ll see if I can find out anything."

 

She left him, fit her feet into her slippers, and went out of the room. She walked down the hall and slipped outside, the chilled wind made her shiver and she pulled her shawl tighter. Light was pouring out over the sky in an array of colors. There she heard voices down by the knights’ meeting area. Looking over the railing, her father was there, sat down in his high backed chair at the head of the table. They were in the midst of discussion.

 

"Your highness?" A night guard bowed his head. "What are you doing out so early for?"

 

"I heard a commotion, woke me up. Do you know what’s happening?"

 

He shifted, looked nervously over to the king. She clasped her hands in front of her and stared into his eyes. He gulped before answering. "I was informed that the dragon’s presence has awakened the wyvern from a local cavern near a small village. A group of knights including your friend was sent to do damage control."

 

Amalia grabbed her chest, her heart hammered against her hand. "Ethan was? Is he, what’s…"

 

"He is well, your highness. Forgive me for worrying you," he bowed low. "From what I’ve heard his companion was injured so he personally brought him home."

 

She took a deep breath in, eyes closed, and breathed out. As she ran her hand through her hair she looked over at her father who mirrored her. Elbow dug into the table as he clenched his bangs to his head. His brow was tense. She clasped her hands under her chin and sent her positive energy his way. He looked up as if sensing her and relaxed, smiling. She blew a kiss in his direction and he caught it to bring to his chest.

 

She scurried back to her bedchambers after getting the directions to Timothy’s home.

Vergil was sitting at the seat he’d been in so little time before, bent over and head in his hands. He looked up as she walked in.

She told him where Ethan was and he jumped up and pulled her in a tight hug. He smelled of lavender and was so warm, she felt her lost sleep gently coming for her. She hugged him back, her hands feeling the slight ridges of his spine.

 

Excitedly, he bid her farewell and left out through the window for the last time that night. The lavender scent was still lingering on her clothes as she crawled back into bed.