The Exchange Ch. 11

After breakfast, Inka and Jorun rode in the palanquin to a common exercise area. It was mostly outdoors, and full of all sorts of things. Targets for arrows. Dummies for repeating combat techniques. Arenas for sparring. It was a place that always reeked of sweat and blood. Nitishila had told the ladies they could watch him practice some of his skills, and they weren't planning on disappointing him.

They stayed on a shaded patio and ate a mixture of ice and fruits as they watched the prince shoot a crossbow a few times. He had impressive accuracy. Then they watched him have a hand-to-hand sparring match with a visiting aristocrat. That was oddly thrilling. The final spectacle was when Nitishila and his partner used swords. Inka assumed the blades were unsharpened. Later, when Nitishila bowed to his partner and moved on to practice slicing through pieces of wood, Inka found out those blades were definitely sharp.

Inka and Jorun politely applauded when Nitishila was finished, and he bowed to them as if he was an actor at the end of a play. Then they went back to the palanquin, which was taken to Nitishila's apartment. Nitishila would also be there soon, but he needed to have a wash and change clothes before meeting his wife in his reception room.

He smelled like green leaves and a little spice when he came to them. He had the proudest smile Inka had ever seen. She complimented him a few times. She thought that was a very wise thing to do, and besides, he was a capable athlete. Why shouldn't he be praised for it? And she didn't mind letting her mind dwell on the energized visions of her husband moving with such strength and ferocity.

Didn't mind at all.

It helped keep her body receptive in the night, not that she needed any extra assistance there. Nitishila willingly claimed the labor. He likely had his experience with women, mostly courtesans, in the past.

Inka dared to think of the phrase "in the past" because of how nearly obsessive Nitishila was.

As much as she "hated" him, as almost unheard of as this concept was, she believed he might be a loyal lover, at least for now. Inka kept track of him, and she analyzed his interactions with her to the best of her abilities. The conclusion was startling, but it was firm.

More days passed on. Both Inka and Nitishila had been listening to the advice of several doctors. Some of the foods they were told to eat included seaweed, figs, oysters, leafy greens, most beans, and certain roots. They were told to avoid eating soy and refined sugar. They were also told to decrease their alcohol intake, not that they were raging drunkards in the first place.

When it came to the sex, the doctors also had their advice. Most said to try to have one "meeting" every other day because having too much sex (Both Nitishila and Inka had asked with a shocked voice whether or not that was a legitimate concept) could actually decrease the chances for a pregnancy. A minority claimed that they should have a "meeting" whenever they can, as long as they feel comfortable enough. The couple chose the latter method. Positions were also discussed, but with reddening faces.

Certain incenses were also given. Their smoky aromas were meant to be aphrodisiacs. Inka's favorite ones were molded around bamboo sticks.

And the couple enjoyed their attempts at conception.

Some nights, Inka stayed on her hands and knees while she was penetrated from behind, her breasts swinging back and forth. It felt tight and it often drained her, but it was pleasurable. Another favorite position was basically man on top, but with Inka's legs up and held against Nitishila's torso. That was ridiculously tight. She often lost her mind during those times, and he'd playfully laugh between his groans. After these sorts of sessions, Inka typically felt deflated and flustered.

She still hated him.

Definitely hated him.

He was stupid, horribly stupid.

But he was also her ally.

Just so she knew to never forget that she hated Nitishila, Inka sat at a desk one morning to draw a cartoon for a tapestry. She wanted to create a collection of images all in one weaved piece. The story of Princess Lataa's plotting and betrayal, Nitishila's furious lack of trust, Inka's imprisonment and torture, and then the moment when she was proven innocent, all these scenes and a few more would be in the tapestry. It was an ambitious project. She might need some help from Jorun, maybe even one of the maids. She might even have to purchase some new threads.

Nothing Nitishila could do would ever appease her. Nothing. Not even those placards he'd distributed really did the trick.

When half of the cartoon was finished, Inka let a gust of air come out her nostrils.

Her toes curled over.

***