Chapter 3: Crick Rock

Chapter 3: Crick Rock

They walked the rest of the way to the North Tower in silence, Lindsay considering everything that had occurred over the last day. Had it only been this morning that she'd woken up in the arms of her husband and wife? It felt like a week had passed since then! Her heart ached for them; for one of Sirix's taunting smiles or the glint of eagerness of discovery in Donil's eyes.

Her initial relief to see Carak melted into quiet discomfort. Though she knew him, in the way one knows a character from a television show, in reality, he was still a complete stranger. He was not some long-missed friend. Truth be told, she wouldn't have chosen to meet him and, if he had met her under other circumstances, she had no doubt he wouldn't give a second thought to killing her. Was that thought in the back of his mind as well? Was he thinking how he'd kill her if she tried to run away?

No, he'd been walking ahead of her. He wasn't worried at all that she would try to escape. Was that because he knew she couldn't? She could kick him above the scar on his leg, make a run for it. She could use her ESP to avoid the first spear, at least. Grab it. Take out the closest guards. Make a run for... where?

The halls were too big, too open. Too many guards. Maybe in the dark of the night she could stage an escape, keep to the shadows. But not now. She wouldn't even know how to get out of the palace from here and it was so vast she could easily get lost in its corridors for hours. How many exits could she even access? This place was built for people who could fly.

"Here, your highness," Carak said, opening the door into a massive, round room.

Light streamed in through a multitude of high-up windows tinted in various pastel shades. A stone staircase followed along the wall, curving upward until it turned into a loft of sorts supported by large arching columns that divided the lower room between something like a lounging room and some sort of garden area beyond, complete with trees, bushes, and a fountain that overflowed to create a stream.

The loft, itself, had columns and walls dividing it in the shades of lilacs and periwinkles. The stairs continued up from the loft, past a balcony and to a second story. It felt like she had stepped into a fairytale. She half expected a deer to saunter across the garden.

"It's beautiful," she said. "Where is my apartment?"

Carak tilted his head in a quizzical manner. "This is your apartment."

"All of it?"

He nodded. "Yes, your highness."

"It's bigger than my house!" she exclaimed, stepping in and turning around in wonder.

"Prince Rivuk will be glad to hear you like it. The North Tower belonged to his favorite grandmother."

Lindsay tried to feign curiosity while looking for a way out. The loft was close to the windows, and there was the balcony, but these were at least a hundred feet in the air. There! Just under the staircase was a door. "Where does that door lead?" she asked as nonchalantly as she could.

"That will be my room, your highness."

Crap. And she was willing to bet he would be able to hear her if she tried to escape. "Don't you have your own room?" she asked, trying not to show her displeasure.

"From today on, this will be my room. My assignment is to guard the newest princess, and I am honored to serve."

He was going to be there all the time, wasn't he? She sighed. Suddenly, she recognized the pressure in her bladder. She hadn't gone to the bathroom since Rivuk had taken her! "Where's the bathroom?"

"The second floor is the bathroom; the bedroom is in the loft. I can leave you to get settled, if you like?"

She looked up, her eyes again tracing the path up the stairs. The second floor. There had to be over three hundred of them! Wings. They could fly. So of course the height meant nothing to them. Probably three flaps of their wings, easier than walking across the room.

This was a nightmare! Taken from her husband and wife, married to a man she'd had sex with once in a dream, forced to live with someone who would literally eat her, and the bathroom was two hundred feet up in the air! Yeah, the last thing seemed so petty compared to the others, but it was still... it was all too much! She was Queen of the Bonat. She could do this... she could... No. No, the tears had to stop. She had to stop them! Why did they just keep coming?

"Your highness?" Carak asked.

"I can't... It won't work." She wiped at the tears, feeling monumentally weak and stupid. "I don't want to climb three hundred stairs every time I need to pee. I need a bathroom on this floor!" She was supposed to be a warrior queen and here she was crying over a toilet.

"I'm certain his grace will be glad to build one for you," Carak seemed to sense the urgency of the situation, "but, until then, you can use mine." He opened the door to his room.

It was way bigger than Lindsay expected, though the ceiling was not even ten feet high. It reminded her of a fancy New York apartment in a sitcom.

"The bathroom should be near the back," Carak said.

"Thank you!" Lindsay wasted no time in finding the room and throwing open the door. She slammed it shut and was on what was probably the toilet in seconds. Oh thank God! she thought as her bladder emptied. It was only after she began to look around the room.

Like everything else, it was large. At the center was a round tub as big as the hot tub at her gym, in the middle of the ceiling above it was a large, round, golden disk with holes in it. A shower. A real shower. Not like the ones at the Bonat camp with pipes made of hollow cane stalks. And past that there was... another shower? She squinted at the tall glass wall. No... There was no shower head anywhere. And there was something else there...

She stood and walked over to the glass. She placed her hands on the wall and peered in. "Oh!" she cried. The panel under her hand shifted from the pressure. It was one of those push and open doors! She opened it and poked her head inside.

It was a shallow coral-colored stone basin filled with some sort of white powder. She picked up a pinch of it and rubbed it between her fingers. It was extremely fine and smelt almost like flaxa flowers with a hint of something musky. Talk about a Powder Room, but what was it for? Why would anyone want a tub full of powde- A dust bath! Like for her brother, Charlie's, old parakeets!

Again, the wings. Everything was designed with them in mind. Even the toilet was more a freestanding wide-rimmed golden bowl on a pedestal than a normal toilet. How did they even flush this thing? She saw a foot pedal at the base of the pedestal and pressed it. There was a flush and the bowl refilled with water. So, there was no shortage of water here, even in the desert. She washed her hands in the coral-pink sink and opened the door.

Actually, the whole room was decorated in corals of different shades, from orange to pink to blue like some expensive Virginia Beach hotel, or some cheap Jersey Shore one. It was strange to picture Carak living in a room like this. And then she remembered this wasn't his room. This was the room for Rivuk's grandmother's servant. It wasn't meant for him at all, a fact which became abundantly clear as he stood in the doorway, the top of his bald head almost brushing the frame.

Her servant would have been a true Nobillo, not one of the Children of the Immortal.

"Will you be needing anything else, your highness?" Carak asked.

"No. Carak?" She wanted to ask him if he'd ever lived in a room this nice, if any Children of the Immortal did. But she couldn't think of a way to say it.

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

"Of course. Should you ever need to use it, I will leave my door open to you."

He would eat her, she reminded herself. If they said the word, he would murder her and eat her. He was kind to her because they'd ordered him to be so. Because she was a princess of the Nobillo. But if she weren't... In her mind, she saw Kadax lying against the wall, throat gone, spine visible from the front. She heard Rivuk's voice in her head, "if you make the mistake of believing any kind action is proof of goodness, my family will eat you alive." She had to remember that. She had to.

"If you wouldn't mind, I think I'd like to be by myself for a while," she said.

"Of course," Carak bowed, lunging forward on his right leg and leaning the trunk of his body over it like Rivuk and she had done. Straightening, he spoke, "If you should need me, there are call buttons in every room. I am at your command." Stepping into his quarters, he closed the door.

Call buttons. She wouldn't need him, though. She could manage just fine on her own.

She mounted the steps, counting two hundred fifty-three to the loft. It was an apartment in and of itself with large parallel panel walls of differing lengths creating the illusion of rooms but never actually meeting. Things had been there once, but not anymore, not even the shadow of them to give her a hint of what they were for.

At the front, overlooking the main floor, was a low-backed couch the size of a queen-sized bed with a multitude of pillows laying against the armrest and a lavender blanket lying carelessly on top. Behind that was a large bed recessed into the floor. It could fit her and her spouses with room for Nol and Veralosa! With its thick, sumptuous bedding it reminded Lindsay of a nest. A warm, cozy nest. She desperately wanted to lie down in it and cocoon herself in the blankets.

No. She didn't want Rivuk to find her that way. Didn't want him to feel like he was being invited into something she had no intention of giving him. She'd wait for him on the couch. ...After she checked out the bathroom.

One hundred more steps. The door was carved with pictures of flowers she'd never seen before, the petals inlaid with something like ivory. She ran her fingers against their smooth, polished, white surfaces.

She shuddered. She knew that look, that shine, from visits to the seafaring museums of Baltimore and Nantucket. She'd know it anywhere. Whale teeth. More likely, Desni teeth. The most intelligent species on the planet and they'd killed one and smashed its teeth into a door. Even the golden door handle was inlaid with them. She pulled it open.

It wasn't a bathroom; it was a goddamned spa! A gold-veined blue pool sat to her right, easily twenty-five by fifty feet, a tall fountain in the corner acted as a waterfall and behind that (there was a behind that!) there was a little, private, partially submerged grotto. She could just see the bench seats of blue, white, and gold tile. A thin wall separated the pool-bath from a steaming tub burbling away like a hot spring.

Then there were two large tables, at least fifteen feet long, with a comfortable looking bench between them. At the edge of each table was an assortment of oils, brushes, and cloths. Lindsay was momentarily perplexed. They seemed a bit long for massage tables. She sat down on the bench between them and thought for a moment, then spread her arms out imagining they were giant wings. It was a wing preening station! Of course, royalty wouldn't do something so taxing as that on their own.

Beyond that was a similar station, but this time the tables had a deep basin carved in them which held a powder very similar to what she'd seen in the servant's quarters, though with a rather different aroma - something floral she'd never smelled before. Of course, flaxa was a common flower. Whatever this was was probably rare and expensive. And heaven forbid a queen roll around in a tub of dust like a servant!

There was a nail station, a massage table, a sauna-like steam room, a make-up station which still had many bottles and differently hued powders of its own. Her brow wrinkled. How long had his grandmother been dead if all of this stuff was still here? And why, then, was the loft emptied out but not the bathroom?

She saw a door and opened it. It was a circular room at least thirty feet in diameter and walled entirely with mirrors. Again, a bench sat in the middle. An opening in the wall led to... the lights came on at her entrance. It wasn't a closet; it was a whole boutique! An airy blue dress hung in front of her with a note attached. She read it.

Wear this.

Rivuk

So, he knew the Bonat language and how to write it. That was... weird. If the Nobillo were intent on painting the Bonat as savages to be killed, it didn't make much sense to bother learning their language.

She pulled up the edge of the dress, it was smooth as silk. It was backless and cute and clearly in her size. Actually, looking around, so were all of these clothes. He'd planned it all! Every step of the way! That's why the bathroom was ready for her! Though why he'd bothered with the powder and oil tables she couldn't guess. The same with all of those backless dresses. She didn't have wings so why not have a few shirts or dresses with backs?

Wear this.

Yeah, he could screw all the way off.

She picked a yellow dress from one of the hangers. She might need a bath and a change of clothes, but he wasn't going to dictate her choice of what to wear.

She went back to the pool. She noticed a towel and some glass bottles filled with oils and fragrant bars of soap sitting on the ledge. She pulled off her old t-shirt and blue leather pants. As she reached to undo her bra, she caught sight of the blue skin on her shoulder. Donil's handiwork. A skin graft from where a Child of the Immortal's talons had cut her. A piece of the Bonat she carried with her.

She lovingly trailed her fingers over it, savoring the slight tickling sensation. Bonat skin. Her skin. She remembered the sensation of Donil's tender lips kissing it, of Sirix's wicked tongue tracing the contours of her shoulder.

She felt the telltale aching dilation of her vagina. Her heart ached with it. She wanted her husband and wife! She needed them!

Her hand traveled to her breast, still resting comfortably in her bra. She began to massage it, rubbing gently in circles. Not her hand, Sirix's. She found the nipple and began to tease it with her thumb. Her other hand moved up her abs and began massaging the other breast. Mmm... Donil. Lindsay could practically see her gorgeous face.

She unhooked her bra, letting it fall to the floor, then she slid off her panties. She was wet. She could feel it between her labia. She sat on the edge of the pool and laid back, resting her head on the towel. She spread her legs over the edge, one in the warm water, one on the smooth floor. She shut her eyes.

Her hands traveled from her breasts to her thighs. Sirix's hands. Too rough from training to be Donil's. He was rubbing her breast as his fingers dipped inside of her, pushed in deeper. She moaned, feeling her own wetness, the pulsing of her vagina on her fingers. They moved up through her labia to her clitoris, making circles around it as her breathing quickened. In her mind, she could see Sirix above her, his wide smile showing off his overly large canines - at least twice as wide and fifty percent longer than a human's - his eyes filled with love for her and lust for her body. "Oh Sirix!" she moaned.

The tightness in her hips and thighs grew. He was there with her. She could feel the electricity of his touch jolting through her. "Oh!" It was so good. "OH!" Her legs began to shake uncontrollably as her hips moved quickly up and down. "OHHHHHHH! Sirix!" she howled as her mind went blank.

Gold-rimmed indigo eyes. Did they see her?

It was just a flash. She'd never been able to hold an orgasm long when it was self-administered. But still, she'd seen him. She had to believe he'd seen her, too. Sensed her, maybe. Reaching out to him.

She slid into the pool, closing her eyes, resting her head against the ledge. "I'll find my way back to you," she said. "I don't care how long it takes. I'll come back to you."

She took a long, cleansing bath, letting the waterfall act as a shower for her hair. It was nice to have a real bath again. She hadn't had one since Reno. That was almost a year ago. She slipped on a pair of panties from the closet and searched for a bra.

What she found was not quite what she had in mind. It was two pieces of fabric, belted at the waist, that seemed to tie at the neck and crisscross at the breast. Rivuk hadn't skimped on them, he'd given her quite a variety to choose from. Some were skimpy, some more modest, a few were clearly meant more for decoration than purpose with gold chains bedecked in jewels instead of straps and ties. It didn't seem worth bothering, she was just going to relax anyway; it was nothing Rivuk hadn't seen before.

And then she thought of Carak. She didn't want him to see the shape of her nipples under the silky fabric of her dress. The thought of it made her shudder. She quickly picked the most conservative bra she could find.

She passed by the make-up and picked up a brush. It had been ages since she'd worn any real make-up, just a pretend make-up party she'd had with Donil using flaxa fruit juice and charcoal. She missed the way she looked in it. Red lips, a smoky eye, no freckles to be seen, a well-timed toss of her hair and she'd have no trouble finding someone to take her home at the club. But then, sex was the last thing she wanted tonight. Well, sex with anyone except Sirix and Donil.

Her fingers automatically found the gold veined indigo eyestone tied around her wrist. A gift from Sirix to help her focus her powers, a tool that had allowed her to spy on the Nobillo attacks against the Bonat... at least until Rivuk caught her. It was smooth and cool as it had always been.

Wait.

If it had allowed her to spy on Carak, why not to see her spouses? At least to know if they were ok. Maybe they would even sense her watching them, know she was ok, too. Well, not ok. Alive and safe for the moment, which was a lot more than they knew now.

She walked down the steps to the loft and stretched out on the couch. It'd been a while since she'd done this. She pictured Sirix in her mind, took a few deep breaths, and looked into the stone.

For a moment, she was nowhere. Then the darkness cleared and she was in the woods overlooking a campfire. Sirix was sitting on a large dead branch in front of it watching as two tiktiks roasted over the flames on long sticks. She wanted to sit next to him, to lean against him, to feel his warmth. Not that she could do any of those things, she wasn't even really there, just watching as things happened. She was less than a ghost.

She heard a rustling and turned to see the tent flap open, revealing Donil. She looked tired; her eyes rimmed in gold from crying. "I wish there were some way we could know she was alive."

"She's alive," Sirix said, turning the sticks over.

"How can you be so sure?" she took a log and put it on the fire.

"If Rivuk wanted her dead he'd have killed her. He'd have killed all of us. He planned the whole thing to get us out in the open and then he didn't kill us. I have to believe he had a reason."

"What if it was only so they could sacrifice her to the Immortal?"

"Then the royal family would already be raining down pieces of her body on us to show she was dead like they did with the last Bona Serat Corsar."

Donil frowned and sat next to him. "I miss her, though."

"I know. I miss her, too. But, right now, there's nothing we can do. We knew this day would come, eventually. She's alive and we have to have faith she'll come back to us. I just wish I'd prepared her better."

"What if..." Donil said, tentatively. "What if she doesn't want to come back? What if she falls in love with the prince and decides to stay?"

"That's crazy!" Lindsay cried, not that Donil could hear her. "I'd never leave you!"

"If that were to happen, then Rivuk will have a gained an extraordinary wife who will, perhaps, turn their wrath from us. But I wouldn't worry about that. I'd worry more that she'd bring him with her and we'd have to share our bed with a Nobillo."