The Exchange Ch. 03

His father didn't say he couldn't exercise, and Nitishila believed he needed to keep fit. A man should be as strong and capable as possible. Push ups and dips. Jumping jacks and spider lunges. Shadowboxing with kicks. Those sorts of exercises were very helpful to him.

Also, sex tended to be much more enjoyable when one was fit, and Nitishila was looking forward to testing his new bride out.

Teal colored eyes, cushion-like lips, and a curvy body with needy looking flesh.

Such a bewitching bride!!

He was sweaty and not so sweet to the nose when he finally sat down and took a large flask of water to his lips. Mamun soon approached with a light smile. "Your Highness, three merchants are waiting in the reception room."

"Haaaah ... that's good." Nitishila wiped his forehead with a cloth. "Tell the housekeeper they're to be served food and drink, and have a musician play for them. I can't go to them in this form." He didn't want to let the poor men grow bored.

When Nitishila was clean and freshly dressed, his hair dried out and an thick veil over his mouth, he had his presence announced to the merchants, and the music stopped. The prince made sure to make a few false coughs to keep the impression that he was ill.

He drew lots to decide which man got the first opportunity to show off his luxury goods. The Emperor himself had combed through their merchandise to make sure they were of the highest quality. The visit was overall successful. There were certainly a variety of things to choose from. He bought some of them on the spot, even though it was only a week into his month of "illness."

Three ornamental combs, one of silver, one of gold, and one of ivory. Pots of young plants that bore sweet fruit and hearty vegetables. Eight hefty sets of matching jewelry. Several statues of people, animals, and even mythical creatures. Ten meticulously crafted tea sets. Fifteen bricks of tea, each one a different type. Five inksticks of the highest quality. A great box of writing paper. And, of course, a huge collection of beautiful fabrics.

Nitishila was feeling quite proud of himself.

While the purchases were being stored away, and the merchants were given payment, Nitishila went off to a small room to have a snack of dried fruit with a cup of tea. He sat by a heavily curtained window, but he peeled a little of the curtains away to peer through. He had a nice view of one of the gardens.

His eyebrows rose as he noticed two pale woman walking with two other women. The Empress Consort and Princess Inka! And their attendants, naturally. There was a distance, so Nitishila couldn't make out all the details, but he was able to see and hear his mother laugh at something Princess Inka had said, although the blonde woman's face seemed to be indifferent.

And that blonde woman said something again, and his mother laughed again.

It was so wonderful to see his mother getting along with his bride. Nitishila believed this was a sign of good things to come. Princess Inka looked cold and distant, but she was apparently committed to her new life. If she hadn't been walking with his mother, Nitishila would've focused on more carnal thoughts right there.

Princess Inka's gait was dignified, but her wide hips still rocked as she moved, and her breasts were eye-catching. Under her dainty headdress of copper and crystals, her braided hair swung back and forth. Her hands were tiny and bright.

A letter! That's what he could do!!

Nitishila snapped out of his seat, nearly toppling his tea and fruit, and he went off to his office so he could write a letter. Princess Inka needed to be reminded of how splendid she was, and how impatiently he was waiting for the marriage to be rightfully made whole.

***

Dearest Bride,

There is a terrible pang deep in my heart, where you have every right to rest. We should have completed each other long ago, but circumstances have failed us. I've imagined you as a soft, pining fairy, glowing under the moonlight as you wait for more news of my health. Every night, more and more gloom whispers into my ear.

Oh, how I long to run my fingers across your blushing palm! How I burn at the thought of your hair tumbling down pillows as I dare to take in its cool fragrance! Please, sweet Princess, please endure this feverish injustice the best you can. I plan to come to you with fine gifts and a gentle hand.

With Affection,

Your Husband.

***

Inka laid the gently folded letter aside on her little dining table and sighed. Also on the table, there was a package of sweets. At least she knew her husband wasn't losing interest in her. Dey, her newest maid, appeared with a tray of food. Jorun was at her heels, also holding a tray. Dey served Inka a meal while Jorun sat down and served herself. As Dey left, Jorun said to Inka with a cheery smile, "Life here is very easy so far, Your Highness. The Empress Consort adores you, and your husband has doted very faithfully."

Just before taking a bite of food, Inka said, "He likely does so out of guilt."

"Hm?" Jorun's head tilted a little, her red hair falling over her shoulder. "Dear Mistress, how can you think that way?"

A swallow of food, then a sip of water. "He hasn't fulfilled his duties towards his family and me. He wants to appease me, and in the process appease his family."

Jorun gave a weighty sigh and fiddled with some of her food. "I don't have the right to question you."

Their meal was quiet, but Inka was able to have a light conversation with her attendant. Then, as Dey returned to take their dishes, Inka rose and said, "I'd like to continue my work at the loom."

And so, as a maid played on a lyre, and as Jorun sat nearby at a table to practice writing the Gehnan language, Inka worked at her loom. It had been repaired some time ago, and she was trying to make a new tapestry. Her feet labored at the long pedals. Her fingers were dexterous. Bars were loudly clacked. Threads were tightly arranged. When she thought she had some significant progress, a maid entered to make an announcement. The Emperor himself was asking for a visit with her.

"Oh? What an honor." Inka left her loom and asked for a mirror so she could fix her likely strained appearance. Then she signaled to Jorun that she needed to come with her.

In the reception room, Inka and her attendant greeted the Emperor, who was seated in a haughty posture. Inka soon got up after she knelt, and Jorun politely waited to be told to rise.

"I'm humbled by your august presence, Your Imperial Majesty." Inka gestured reached for a pot of tea and refilled a recently emptied cup. "What actions may I take to express my appreciation?"

His large hand lifting the cup, his rings clicking on the firm material, the Emperor gave Inka a calm, knowing look, his eyes a little bit strict. "I've heard you've tried to visit the Empress Dowager a few times since you've arrived."

Inka lowered her head as she carefully set the teapot down. "I've made attempts, but I confess I haven't had any success."

"That's simply how she is," the Emperor said after taking a sip of his tea. He patted at his now slightly wet beard with a handkerchief from a pocket in his vest. "She might tolerate you if you visited with me."

Inka clapped her hands together, put those hands in her lap, and bowed in her seat, her braid of hair partially sliding over her arm. "I'm humbled to receive your aid, Your Majesty."

His lips twitching with a weak sort of amusement, the Emperor waved his fingers at her. "Ready yourself now. We'll leave as soon as possible."

At the Empress Dowager's apartment, the maid let them inside, although she had an awkward sense of guilt on her face as she did it. They met the Dowager in a reception room. A tray of tea with snacks and a deck of playing cards were waiting to be handled.

After giving a short kneel, the Emperor took his mother's hands and gave her caring words. As Inka remained in her own kneeling position, he soon made a calm gesture towards her, saying, "Our dear little princess has arrived in the hopes of receiving more of your wisdom. Would my great, astute mother please lay her benevolence in the princess' hands?"

Her nose high, turning her head away, the Dowager said to her son, "I suppose she's quiet enough. She has my permission to linger."

Inka spent the next hour watching the Emperor and his mother play a card game while she quietly munched. She thought silence would be very, very prudent. It was better to have a grandmother-in-law just barely tolerate you than hate you. Jorun tried to keep her eyes lowered, but she was able to sneak a few exhausted and irritated looks to Inka.

When the visit was finished, the Emperor walked Inka out of the apartment and patted her shoulder. "You've behaved remarkably well. Would you care to accompany me on a visit with my wife?"

Of course, Inka bowed and agreed.

The Empress Consort was the opposite of her mother-in-law. She was effervescent and warm. She showed off some old but beautiful paintings to her guests. Then she had them all join her in a board game that involved dice and spinning tops. After that was done, the Empress had some maids play music so she could teach Inka how to dance beautifully according to Gehnan standards. Poor Inka fell on her backside quite regularly, which had the Emperor laughing. "You body wasn't made for this style of dancing," he'd said, "but that doesn't mean you shouldn't be diligent."

Inka thought her relationships with her in-laws were decent, at least mostly.

***

More men arrived at Prince Nitishila's apartment almost a week before the end of the month. Nitishila was pleased to see them. Still faking coughs, he admired the pretty things that were shown to him. Spools of threads of every color, including metallic and sparkling ones, and a fresh sewing kit with silver chased tools. A box of tiny brooches and long hairpins. A jar of perfumed cream. A few lovely paintings. And more cloth.

Nitishila's favorite bolt of fabric was a thin, gauzy piece with a gradient of rainbow colors. The borders had a lovely white trim with silver and black circles. He thought it would make a beautiful veil. So, he sent Mamun to the Higher Sewing Department to have one designed, but he told him to be secretive about it. The extravagance of these presents were meant to be a surprise for the bride.

Some minutes later, a maid went bowed to him and gave him a letter. It was from Lataa. He waved the maid away and read the message. It was rather ... whiny. "Have you recovered yet? I want to play games soon." It was that sort of thing. Nitishila quickly wrote a short reply confirming that he was still ill, and once he was better he needed to give his attention to his bride. He didn't think that would make Lataa very happy, but there was nothing he could do.

***

"If he's so unwell," Lataa hollered as she crumpled her brother's letter up, "then why did he have merchants and artists visit his apartment?!" She tossed it against a wall, knocking over a painting. A maid hurried to put the painting back on the wall.

One of Rahki's lower eyelids twitched as she answered, "I'm not sure, Mistress."

Throwing a pillow across the room, Lataa screamed, "Well, change that!! Find out everything you can!!" As if she had every right to know what her brother did in his private quarters.

Rahki tried to get more information. She honestly did, but for a while everything was dry. It wasn't until around a week later that she was able to find some gossip. It made her feel even more nervous, sadly, because the gossip came with a great number of seemingly random gifts from the prince, along with a message saying, "Here are some things I thought you might like."

It was early in the morning, so Lataa was already in an unpleasant mood. She liked to sleep in. When she opened each package to coo at all the pretty things, Rahki knew it was only the calm before the storm. The gifts were lovely. Some bangles, a statue of a woman, pretty muslin, lovely things like that. But suddenly, as if the gifts reminded Lataa of her desire for the truth, she turned to Rahki with an icy glare.

"Rahki, you're plucking threads off your sleeve."

This was unfortunately true. Rahki swiftly folded her hands, but it was a futile effort. "I ... I hope that Your Highness will be kind enough to forgive my lack of protocol."

The princess' voice rose. "What news do you have?!"

Best get on with it, then. Rahki took a step backwards and said, "There are voices floating in the pond." That meant there were rumors. "It seems that His Highness was never truly ill, and he lied to have more time to find gifts for his bride." Another step back. "After seeing his bride for the first time, he was so enamored with her that he decided the gifts he'd previously ordered were not good enough."

A pause.

Rahki swallowed a lump, preparing her muscles to run.

Lataa kicked the statue of the woman over, breaking one of its arms in a cruel manner. Then she shrieked, "HE DARED TO GIVE ME THE REJECTS?!"

The princess put her anger to every one of the precious gifts. If she couldn't damage something with her bare hands, then she'd look for something heavy to bluntly strike it with. Rahki was relieved to know all the negative energy would be given to the gifts and not herself. When Lataa was damaging the last unmarked item, she ended up braking one of her long fingernails, which led to her crying and shaking her limbs like a toddler. Rahki sent a maid off to find some water, ointment, and bandages.

Princess Lataa didn't like it when she wasn't the center of attention, and she really didn't like it when another woman close to her age received anything superior to what she had. That was why she'd been so happy with the alliance made with Eiragla. It meant that Jaya had to go away. However, Lataa hadn't thought very much about the fact that a new woman would come. She'd only assumed it would be some ugly foreigner who likely didn't bathe often. But this new Princess Consort Inka was truly biting into her nerves. She couldn't stand it.

***

The sky was clear. The air was windy. And the sun was vicious. Inside his palanquin, Nitishila pulled some of his curtains away. Seemingly floating in the air, there was a giant butterfly with stiff pink wings. He needed three seconds to realize it was actually a kite, likely made of painted silk and bamboo. The string was hardly visible.

He was certain that it was coming from his bride's apartment. That was fine. He was actually curious about what the woman did for fun.

The palanquin stopped at the main outdoor entrance to Princess Inka's apartment. He didn't have his attendant knock on the door. He simply led him around a corner, through a gate bordering Princess Inka's yard, and to an area where a bunch of women stood.

Quickly and quietly, the prince had Mamun hide behind a flower bush while he stayed behind a thick, flowery tree. The women's curious faces were pointed at the sky. One of them held a parasol over Princess Inka's head, another over Jorun's head.

Holding the spool with two hands, Princess Inka guided the string with a very subtle smile on her face. It put more roundness in her cheeks and softened her jaw. Her teal eyes were warm and relaxed. The sight put a flush in Nitishila's face, palms, and feet.

Suddenly, there was a severe gust of wind, and the kite was forced to the apartment's roof, much to the high pitched uproar of the servants. Even Jorun, the redheaded attendant, looked distressed. But Princess Inka was as peaceful as ever. She asked for a ladder, and then she waited as a maid ran off, and then returned with one. But, earning shocked eyes and dropped jaws from her maids, Princess Inka took the ladder in her hands. Then she confidently carried that ladder to a wall, leaving the parasol's shelter.

"No, Your Highness!! Don't risk your health!! Please don't do that!!"

Those were only some of the statements ringing out from the maids' mouths. Yet, strangely, Jorun was calm and collected. She didn't seem to have any worry.

Princess Inka hardly even blinked at the maids' voices. She climbed the ladder and stretched her arm towards the kite. Nitishila held his breath, worried over her safety, but his interest and amazement were too powerful. He couldn't remember the last time he saw a high class woman climb a ladder at all, let alone outdoors.

Without any trouble, the princess dislodged the kite and climbed back down to the earth, where her maids fawned over her. "Are you hurt? Are you thirsty? Are you overheated? Would you like some iced fruit?"

Princess Inka waved all their concerns away as she handed Jorun the kite and spool. "I've grown weary of this. Have someone put the kite away."

That was when Nitishila felt confident enough to reveal himself, saying with a deep voice, "It's such a relief to know my bride is a fearless woman."

Everyone knelt down. The servants and Jorun all prostrated themselves, but Inka rose from her kneeling position soon. However, the princess's eyes were low. "I'm honored to have my husband visit me."

Waving the rest of the women up, Nitishila said to the princess, "Men will arrive soon to properly display my wedding gifts to you." He reached out to take one of her hands for the first time. It was so small, so white, and so dainty, when pressed into his dark fingers. He was afraid of damaging her, so he kept his grip light as he let his eyes slide up to try to meet hers. "I hope you'll forgive me for not giving sending a letter in advance. I thought a surprise might amuse you."

"There's no ill will, Your Highness." Inka swept her hand away from herself to point at the nearest entrance. Her face moved away from him. "Would you please come in?"

In one of the biggest rooms, the prince and princess were settled on deluxe cushions. Nitishila noticed that his wife had a light aroma floating from her skin, jasmine with a tiny bit of olives. She might have used a zinc oxide paste with mixed fragrances to protect her fair skin from the harsh sun. As Jorun happened to pass him at one moment, Nitishila smelled that fragrance again, and he assumed his thought was true. This knowledge comforted him. His wife was preserving her lovely flesh.

Many men came into the apartment, carrying all the gifts that Nitishila had chosen. Each one was held before Princess Inka's impassive face. It was like a performance.

But no matter how lovely each gift was, all the princess did was say something to the effect of, "What a thoughtful gift," or ,"I'm truly honored," all while keeping the smoothest, most unemotional expression. Even when the last gift was revealed, the veil of rainbow fabric, Prince Nitshila's heart sank quite miserably, for his bride showed no apparent fervor. He tried to keep up a happy appearance, but one of his legs was bouncing and his fingers tightened on his knee.

Why ... why wasn't she impressed?!

Princess Inka was saying all the correct, polite things, but she wasn't ... well ... she wasn't gasping nor squealing. No hopping with joy. No grinning. No surprise. Nothing.

His nostrils flared out.

He took the rainbow veil and held it under Princess Inka's face, and he said with an almost depleted tone, "Does my bride not find any pleasure in owning this fine garment?"

With a little nod, the princess told him in the dullest tone, "It's a beautiful veil, Your Highness. I'm truly a blessed person."

But this didn't satisfy him. He ordered that all the gifts would be placed inside the Princess' own personal treasury (and the plants immediately given homes in the garden). Then, as the men helped the maids fulfill the order, Ntishila encircled his wife's lower arm with his fingers and palm. Then he said with a voice he tried very hard keep level, "I must've bored you, Dear One." He gave a gentle tug, and the princess followed his lead. They both got to their feet. "Let's have a board game."