The Exchange Ch. 12

That strange white bird appeared so often that it was given a name. Roshan. Technically, nobody knew what the bird's sex was, or even if it was always the same bird on each sighting. But since it always looked the same it was assumed to be the same. Little Roshan was the bird that lightly rapped Crown Princess Consort Inka's window and simply stayed on the windowsill as if it wanted something, but it was never given anything. Once, a guard tried to catch the bird, but it was too quick.

Indu was quite big, still a small dog, but bigger than when Inka had first been introduced to her. Her stubborn nature had been eroded and she was overall much calmer. During a particular visit from the Empress Consort, Inka had the dog in her lap, stroking the length of her back. Some moments before, the Empress had given Inka another dancing lesson, and now they were both a little tired.

"My heart's quite jubilant to know you've grown such affection for that little dog," the Empress said as she took up a small, circular frame for embroidery. She'd been working on a small, portable project for her own amusement lately. She was putting a threaded needle through the taut fabric when she added, "I believe the desire to protect and nurture is amazingly strong in humans." She starting pulling and knotting her thread, making tiny circles to form a flower's discoide stigma. "Most people don't fare well without someone or something to care for. Their hearts weaken from boredom and loneliness."

Indu's cool nose touched one of Inka's hands, and she gave a few licks. Inka sighed and held her hand out so Jorun could wipe the saliva away with a damp rag. "I didn't seek this dog out," the princess said, "she was given to me."

Working on the flower's petals now, the Empress said, "Yet she's in your lap, and she's quite happy."

"Indu will sit in anyone's lap," Inka said, "or the lap of anyone who treats her well."

Then, without any warning, there was a tapping. Everyone, even Indu, turned their heads towards the noise. At the nearest window, a maid opened some shutters, and there Roshan was. He, or she, quietly stood on the windowsill. The maid said, "The bird's chosen a new window? And a new time of day?"

An eyebrow rising, the Empress said, "I've heard of this bird. Roshan, is it?"

"That's what we've been calling it, Your Majesty." Inka had to hand Indu off to a maid because she was growling at the bird. "We're not certain as to why it appears. Some of the maids have suggested it might be a sign of a god's blessing."

"There are multiple possibilities, honestly," said the Empress as she eyed the calm, nearly still bird. "Are you interested in keeping it as a pet?"

Inka shook her head. "I know nothing of that bird. Interference could be dangerous."

"Ah." The Empress looked back down, returning to her embroidery. "You're treading the safest route."

Five minutes or so later, Roshan flew away.

"That problem, it if could be called such, solved itself," the Empress said.

Inka shrugged and told Jorun she was craving poultry for dinner.

***

Sweat and light incense.

Silk sheets and a creaking mattress.

In the beginning, Nitishila's beard had painted its warm scents all over Inka, its coarse texture stimulating so many nerves. Her nipples had pointed to the ceiling. Her nails had made lines in his scalp. Their tongues had even caressed each other on occasion.

It was a bit different now.

Inka was on her hands and knees. Her breasts almost hurt as they were forced to rock with the movements. She didn't care.

Her round backside was held, the buttocks spread. Nitishila's pubic hair was ground against her spread cunt, and his great stalk filled her up over and over.

"Ni ... Niti!! Oh!! Please!!" Her voice was urgent and strained. "It's so much!!"

He was standing close to the bed, keeping her to him. "Hm? Don't tell me you're having difficulties." He put a little more pressure in his fingers on her buttocks. "You're quite strong. Don't faint. I'm not finished with you."

Inka's throat was drying out as she panted. "Hah ... hah ... I ... it's been so long. Please ... hurry." Her poor voice was dwindling. "I ... I can't."

He let his thumb graze her anus as he barked out, "You've endured before and you'll do it again! Now take it!"

Harder, seeming to pierce everything, and so much faster! Inka coughed and gasped. Her arms collapsed. Her nipples were forced to rub against the silk sheets. Her cheek soon followed suit. Her throbbing, oozing little cunt shot so many signals to her brain that most of her thoughts were blocked. It was like having too many people trying to use a hallway, but her body felt different. Like falling or even dancing, but so fast and so intense that Inka couldn't make any sound except for tiny chirps.

"There's my little fairy." Nitishila's voice softened, but then he choked on his own words as he seized up and almost dig his nails in Inka's soft globes. He made a rolling, wordless noise, and then he made the most irregular thrusts.

The traffic in the hallway started moving again. Inka was able to think of something, a desperate little plea to whatever gods there might be.

Please. Please give us a child.

Some days later, on a cloudy morning, Inka found her menstruation cycle's vulgar greeting.

And her calm mask was thrown across the room.

Not even getting up to find some linen to soak up the blood, Inka just laid on her side and wept.

Nitishila had spent the night, and he was there to surprise her with a hug from behind. His words were so gentle. "What's dared to bother my wife?" He kissed her hairline and neck.

"It ... I ... I'm not ..." Inka didn't want to lose any composure, but this was a grave issue for her. For most people, children were of great importance. For a royal family, children were typically vital. Continuing the line and all that. From a political standpoint, a lack of children would often be an exploitable weakness.

"Patience, Darling. Patience." Nitishila put a palm on her belly. It was so warm on her skin. "Don't fret over this. It won't improve the situation."

"Don't patronize me!" Tears were running down, reaching her pillow.

With his still loving tone, he buzzed in her ear, "I know this is frustrating, but all we can do is continue."

"We've continued for far too long! Nothing's happened!"

Another kiss, this time directly on her ear. "Go find a cloth. You don't want to ruin the sheets."

Inka was still weeping when she got out of bed. She happened to look on a cushion on the floor, where Jorun would sometimes be. Since Nitishila was here, Jorun was forbidden from waiting in the room. And Nitishila had stayed the night so very often. Jorun had been instructed to wait in a separate room instead.

Nitishila ... was almost always visiting ... and they tried so many times to have a child.

So many times.

Once Inka had some padding tied and pinned around her hips and against her less than pristine private area, she wiped her eyes with her knuckles and started getting dressed. She didn't hear the bed creak or groan. She assumed Nitishila hadn't gotten up.

"We're doing all we can, and with honest intentions," Nitishila told her. "The gods will bless us soon."

"That's the most useless statement I've heard yet." Inka tugged her pants on and went to a dressing table. "You might soon have to name an heir from a more distant relative, which leaves room for bloody schemes to grow among them." She took a comb through what little hair she had. "You'd also be quite vulnerable."

She heard him sigh. "I'm not so foolish that I don't understand that."

Well, at least he wasn't quite that level of dense.

Close to noon, the Emperor asked for both Nitishila and Inka to go to his apartment. Well, judging by the letter's crisp usage of words, the couple assumed it was more of an order.

When the couple was sitting inside the reception room, they noticed that there was a lack of servants. The Emperor arrived alone, and he demanded that the couple's attendants go to a far off room.

Nitishila gave Inka a concerned and puzzled expression, his eyebrows high, as the attendants wordlessly obeyed.

An empty table was in the center of the three points formed by the people, a triangular formation. The air felt very still.

Finally, when Inka almost wondered if the Emperor had been transformed into a statue, he spoke to them. "You both must be aware of the restlessness in the family." His arm was very stiff as he moved it up and touched his beard. "You've yet to have a child, and we can't let this continue without an idea of what the problem is."

What in the world did he mean? Inka wanted to narrow her eyes and ask him, but she knew better. Unfortunately, Nitishila didn't. He was very blunt. "What do you mean? Will you have certain examinations performed on us?"

The Emperor's nostrils flared and he pointed at his son with a strict finger. "Keep a princely tone, Boy." Nitishila sighed, but he also apologized, and the Emperor explained right after that. "The main question would be, 'Is one of you even capable of producing children?' Consequently, an experiment must be implemented."

Inka honestly didn't want to know what sort of experiment he had in mind, but her desires weren't important in this space.

"Nitishila," the Emperor said with his deep voice, "a discreet courtesan will be hired for your use. If she becomes pregnant within a year, then we'll feed her an abortifacient, and we'll have a point of reference of how to deal with this problem."

Nitishila's jaw fell.

Inka's toes pressed together.

Nitishila slapped the table with his palm and rapidly shot his words out. He even spat a little, but that was certainly an accident. "That's one of the most disgraceful things I've ever heard!! Hearing such an idea from your lips astounds me!"

It was swift.

The Emperor just ... leaned across the table ... and punched Nitishila's face as if it was the most normal, most fatherly thing in the world to do. Nitishila was forced back a few inches, but then he got back up, his eyes wild and raging, and he lunged at his father. Grunting, yelling, punching, kicking. They practically rolled around the room, knocking things over, even breaking some things.

Inka shot up and moved out of the way, then she ran into the hallway and called out, "Guards!! Guards!!"

***

Nitishila's punishment was to be confined in his apartment for a month unless instructed to leave. Inka later heard that the Empress Consort went to her husband's apartment with fury radiating off of her. According to the gossip, the Empress had screamed and broken whatever hadn't been destroyed in the fight. To say that she disagreed with the situation would be an understatement.

For a long time, Inka stayed at Nitishila's apartment, helping the servants tend to him. The poor prince had a busted lip, and bruises in all sorts of places. The fact that he had no black eye nor broken bones was nearly a miracle. When the afternoon was late, Inka sent a very polite letter asking for an audience with the Emperor. She didn't want to give him too much time, as rude as that might've been. Thankfully, Inka received a positive, if stern, letter and hurried to go see him.

In the now bare and unfortunately messy reception room, the Emperor sat with as many injuries as his son had. Yet he still held on to his dignity. Trying to be as humble as possible, Inka got to her knees and prostrated herself.

"Get up," the Emperor said, and she complied, but she took a seat across from him.

Inka didn't wait for anyone to serve food. "It is my deepest regret to bother His Imperial Majesty during such a difficult time, but I feel that for the sake of my husband's pride, I must do so."

His eyes turned to slits.

"I hope my great father-in-law would be so kind as to remember that his daughter-in-law is an ally." She took a breath. "You've kindly offered protection to me, but I'd like to transfer it from myself to my husband." She bowed, putting her hands on the low table before her. "I implore you, Your Imperial Majesty, to rescind the command that caused such a rift between father and son."

Silence followed. Inka stayed in her position, waiting, hoping, almost praying.

Then suddenly!

"How dare you ask such a thing, you rotten child!? Will you scheme against me now that I've refused your desire?!"

His voice echoed in her form, nearly making her tremble, but she knew how to remain serene. "Please, Your Majesty, consider your son's heart. He's boiling in his own agony. A strong affection for me has been cultivated, and no matter what anyone tells him he will not yield."

"Who cultivated the affection, then?! Was it not you?!" She felt the table shake against her body as the Emperor slammed the side of his fist into it. "I'll need to keep twice as many eyes on both you and I as before. I can't afford to have you plotting against me! Now go to your apartment! You are forbidden from leaving it for two days from tomorrow morning!!"

Inka's eyes were low as she obeyed.

She tried. She honestly tried to help her husband, but now she feared she'd made a powerful enemy. As hateful as it was, even though it proved the Emperor to be technically correct, Inka sat in her apartment and tried to think of the best, often sneakiest ways to move against him. Her brain was still sore from all the grinding thoughts when she went to bed in the night.

In the morning, Inka woke up to Jorun's excited nudging on her shoulder.

"What?" Inka used a sheet to rub an eye. "What's brought such urgency?"

Jorun was frowning. Her brow was wrinkled. "Your Highness, the Emperor died in his sleep. The physicians said he had a stroke."

Inka sprung up. "What?!"

"The physicians are now worried over the prince's health," Jorun said as she helped Inka out of bed. "They fear that weakness to strokes might be an inherited trait."

Inka's brain was a watery, sloshing mess as she tried to get dressed. Jorun had to catch something she dropped quite a few times.

"Mistress?"

"I ... I saw him just last night." Her eyes were uncharacteristically wide. "He was alive. I saw him. He yelled at me. He was angry with me."

"First, being attacked by his son, then having his wife pitch a fit," Jorun said as she picked up a comb for her mistress' hair, "and finally venting at you. If he had a condition nobody was aware of, then I suppose it would make sense for the stress to harm him."

The most subtle example of a scowl was threatening to emerge on Inka's face. She had to force it away. "His body will be sealed in a coffin and buried beside his mother's."

Combing Inka's hair, Jorun said, "The next in line is the prince, and even though the Coronation Ceremony won't be immediate, he'll be treated as the Emperor. Naturally, he'll annul the confinement placed on him, and the one on you."

Inka sighed. "I ... I'm going to be the Empress Consort."

"And your mother-in-law will be the Empress Dowager." Jorun put the comb aside and took a bowl of water with a rag. "Now won't you sit down and let me wash your face? As the new Empress Consort, you must be sublime."

Once Inka was dressed in her colorful muslin and a great amount of jewelry, a little bit of rouge on her lips and cheeks, she went to her loom and went on with her project. Any moment now, someone would come to tell her the confinement punishment has been lifted. She'd packed quite a good amount of threads in when Dey went into the room and confirmed it. "His Highness ... I mean His Majesty? He's sent a message." It was a small scroll in a golden case. Inka read the scroll and found that her punishment had indeed been annulled, and he also asked if she would please come to his apartment.

When Inka arrived, she saw that there was a great deal of movement. People were carrying things out of the place. The reception room was almost empty. With a tired gait, Nitishila came to her, and he held out his hands. "Good morning, Inka. Won't you come to me?" His lips were only slightly less swollen. Had he used some ginger?

Inka rose and put her hands in his, and she looked up at his worn face. There was a dark, alarming pink in his eyes. "What's the meaning of all this clamor?"

"I'm going to move into my father's apartment," he explained. "My mother will move into my grandmother's apartment. You should have your servants move your things to my mother's old apartment."

"I was under the impression that family members shouldn't claim the dead's living quarters until after a funeral."

Nitishila closed his eyes for three seconds and sighed. "It's different for the Royal Family. If a successor is available, then things are meant to move swiftly."

Inka felt his hands squeeze hers as if he was afraid she'd flee. "Now, my grandmother's and my father's belongings are in my possession. I'm going to give most of my father's belongings to my mother, particularly his clothing and favorite paintings. Is there anything you'd like to have?"

A short hesitation, Inka's eyes dropped down to point at Nitishila's chin. Then she said, "Perhaps the tomato plants? If your mother doesn't protest, I'll have them."

Nitishila nodded, and he put one of her hands to his injured lips for a kiss. "That's fine. Now, be certain to have your beloved plants at your apartment replanted in your new home. Mother will do the same."

"Yes." She turned her face away. "This is moving so quickly. It's startling. It was only yesterday when I had the lowest feelings in my heart, and now everything's changed."

"There's no need to fret, Inka." He let one of her hands go so he could lightly pat her head, his heat seeping through her headscarf. "This change is for the better."

***

Inka's new apartment was much bigger than the previous one. She had some difficulties filling up the space. It wasn't a very far distance from the Emperor's apartment. The swingset was taken apart, carried off, and rebuilt on a patio with thick, white fences and stairs that looked like marble.

Inka spent some time sitting on that swing's seat as she watched people take away the new Empress Dowager's plants and replace them with hers. Inka didn't have enough plants to truly replace everything the previous occupant had. Inka also noted that Indu, the bright little dog, was bouncing around, taking in all the details she could about this new place.

Perched on a stool near Inka, Jorun tried to swipe a wrinkle out of her pants. "With the great increase in your allowance, you'll be able to find more pretty things for this apartment."

"I haven't thought of my allowance," Inka admitted as one pale hand silently moved down one of the ropes her seat hung from. "As the Princess Consort here, I had an opulent lifestyle. Now? What else is there to have? The moon?"

Jorun hid a tiny snicker behind the back of her hand. "If your attentive husband could give you the moon, he'd do so immediately."

"Concerning that thought, please speak quietly." Inka turned her cool face to Jorun as her hand moved on the rope again. "Someone might hear you, and they'd certainly tell my husband. He'd likely hire every great artist to make paintings of the moon. Then he'd hire fine jewelers to find and polish white stones to imitate the moon and give them to me. I have no need of such things."

"Then, Dear Mistress, perhaps you could find a gift for him instead?"

A dainty little exhale came from Inka, and she said, "I'm not offended by the idea. It would reflect well on me, wouldn't it?"

The women discussed it for a while. Purchased or made? Elaborate or simple? What should be given? In the end, Inka decided she'd spend a few hours for a few days out of the week to make something. It would be a scroll of white silk with carefully chosen words embroidered in gold to resemble calligraphy. She'd have to search her books and scrolls for some calligraphy to guide her. There would also be blue and pink flowers forming a colorful border around the calligraphy.