The Exchange Ch. 03

The day and night were theirs. He didn't want to waste it.

The game lasted fifteen minutes. Nitishila was certain that the quiet woman let him win. She didn't even pretend to have a strategy. She only gave him polite applause when he won. "Oh, my husband has a brilliant mind. I'm incredibly fortunate to be attached to you."

First, a deep breath. Second, a henna adorned palm rising to his brow. Third, an impatient snort. These were the prince's most visible reactions. "Yes ... well ... how about a walk? Have your maids reapply any necessary cream to your skin, your attendant too. Then you may show me your personal garden."

After nodding to him, Princess Inka got up to obey. As she walked, Nitishila shortly eyed some of the henna on her bare feet and hands. While Nitishila's henna had mostly sharp, geometric shapes, Princess Inka had flower petals, swirling vines, and feathers. He thought of these sorts of objects moving in the wind on a spring day.

With their feet in slippers, maids following with parasols, the couple and their attendants took a leisurely stroll in the garden. They watched men and some women work to plant the new additions. They admired insects and arachnids. They even plucked a few flower petals to be used as food ingredients later. But throughout the walk, Ntishila's bride was still cold, almost never looking at him, often blatantly turned away.

Fine ...? Well ... she wasn't being offensive. In fact, she was very civil.

But Nitishila had wanted more than that. Or maybe he'd expected too much? She was still a stranger in this land, this was the longest amount of time they'd spent together since the wedding, and they hadn't even spoken to each other at that wedding.

Was this all he could hope for? An emotionally distant, if beautiful and polite bride?

Lunch was served to the couple in a gazebo with a round roof. It was a well prepared meal. Chickpeas with chopped potatoes and rice in a savory gravy, sweet roasted chicken, stacks of flatbread, and cups of dark tea. Their attendants were given food too, since it wouldn't do for them to starve. How could they serve their master and mistress every hour of the day without eating with them? Such a difficult job, at least the maids had their different shifts and scheduled private meals out of sight.

"Have you adapted well to the food here?" Nitishila asked, quietly happy to see that his wife was eating as if these dishes were natural to her.

After drawing in a sip of her tea and smoothly putting the cup on its saucer, Princess Inka briskly replied, "Yes. The food is sapid in many ways, and very nourishing."

Tightly rotating his saucer on the table, making little scraping noises against the surface, Nitishila asked, "Isn't there something you hate?"

Not even moving her head in his direction, the princess said, "I'd dare not question the quality of the food in this mighty palace."

"There's a difference between quality and personal preference," Nitishila said as his fingernails silently pressed down on the table, "and I'd prefer to know my wife's preferences."

"Is that so?" Did that pale woman actually turn her head farther away from him?! And why was her tone so difficult to read?! "I'll have to keep this fact in mind."

Eyes narrowing, cheek twitching, lightly scratching the tabletop, Nitishila asked very quietly, "Was that sarcasm?"

Finally, the princess looked at his face with the most ... most ... ethereal ... even ... doll-like expression. Heavenly. Rippleless, gorgeous, it made Nitishila's heart trip as he took in the features. With those ample, rosy lips, the princess gave the tamest words. "Sarcasm? How could I dare show that to His Highness? I barely understand the concept." Her pale eyelashes fluttered as the teal eyes slid down to point at her food.

She ... didn't admit any wrongdoing.

But she wasn't acting concerned over his mood either.

"Have I upset you?"

He knew Mamun was likely putting his fingers to his lips, shocked and concerned, but Nitishila wasn't looking at him. He was looking at Princess Inka's perfect face when she next spoke. "Is there some peculiar circumstance in which I could possibly be upset with my husband?"

Slapping the table, making the dishware jump and clatter, Nitishila said with a slightly louder tone, "Dealing with my sister and mother was sufficient training. I know when a woman's angry. Now tell me the truth, or I'll be in a worse state than you could ever hold."

Silence bubbled around them. The attendants refused to eat. Nitishila knew this was true because he couldn't hear their dishes being moved. It took Princess Inka around three seconds to respond, and Nitishila felt a cool breeze as he listened.

"What is it they say? Voices in the pond?" She put her cup to her lips.

"What?" Nitishila gripped the tabletop's edge. "Rumors? Silly rumors? Of course a woman would listen to those."

"Silly indeed, Your Highness," Princess Inka said as she put her cup back down, "it's terribly silly for a man who's supposedly ill to have merchants visit him, a man who's meant to be recovering as soon as possible so he can fulfill his duties." Her eyes were like her voice, unfazed. "It's terribly silly for a defenseless virgin to wait day after day for her marriage, a component of a political alliance between nations, to be completed, when the guards whisper about how her husband might not be ill after all."

Nitishila's eyes went to his hands on the table, but he wasn't quite seeing them. Desipte the bright weather, in his mind he saw a cool and rainy sky, gray and threatening. His gut felt like someone had emptied it out. Honestly, he didn't think the truth would come out, but he'd underestimated pretty much everyone.

He felt like a true fool.

"I ... but ..." Nitishila took a breath. "I wanted to find better wedding gifts for you." The words flopped and skid out of his throat. "I ... I regretted ...?"

"Is my understanding of Gehnan culture too limited?" Princess Inka never displayed any indignation in her tone, but Nitishila knew it was there. "After a wedding here, the couples are free to exchange common pebbles. The gesture is the most crucial factor, not the gifts themselves."

"Still!" Nitishila tried to give her a pleading look, hoping to appeal to what he assumed was a woman's nature. "Aren't you happy to know you've been given such luxurious gifts? Aren't you happy to know that your husband was so impressed in the first place?"

Swiftly, the princess responded. "A month has been wasted."

It was the most honest thing she'd said, because even though it was mechanical and elegant, it showed a piece of her mind. Even though it was a harsh criticism, Nitishila was glad to hear it. His whole body felt more relaxed once he heard it. "That's true, but now I'm here, and I'll try to earn your forgiveness."

A sigh. It was Princess Inka's sigh. It was quick, fragile, and the barest sound Nitishila had heard from her so far. Her eyelashes fluttered again, and she seemed to look at his face, but not quite at his eyes. "The fact that you've admitted the wrong is more than enough to pacify me. And so," here, she reached for a piece of bread, "our next route should be marked with innocent cajoleries and hopefully some warmth. If we can't harmonize, we should at least tolerate each other."

Hm? So, it seemed that his new wife could forgive easily? What an amazing trait!

Renewed morale rising in his chest, the prince reached over and let his fingertips touch one of his bride's wrists. She wasn't wearing any bracelets even though he knew she had very many. But he wasn't focusing on that yet. He was thinking about how warm even a snow white, icy princess' flesh was under his touch.

"I'm certain we can entertain each other," Nitishila said.

***