The Exchange Ch. 06

Thunder was teasing everyone with its rolling buzzes, but rain didn't come just yet. Inka opened a curtain in her palanquin so she could take in more of the energizing air.

Across from her, Jorun asked, "How do you think she'll react?"

"I'm not certain." Inka closed the curtain and leaned back in her plush seat.

The palanquin was set down at the entrance of Princess Lataa's apartment. Jorun asked one of the bearers to hold a package while she knocked on the doors. Princess Lataa's nervous attendant answered, and Jorun asked, "Is your mistress available? Princess Inka has a present for her. She hopes she can be forgiven for not sending a letter in advance."

"Oh, I'm certain there's nothing to forgive," the attendant said with a deep nod of her head. "Please come in."

The reception room, and many rooms overall, looked oddly ... sparse ... as if many pieces of furniture and decorations had been taken away. It also smelled like smoke. Inka wasn't sure what to think. She'd assumed Princess Lataa liked owning her pretty things and wanted to show them off. What little she knew about the woman suggested quite a materialistic personality. Her husband and other family members here didn't speak of her often, but when they did they said things like, "Oh, she's a coddled child. Yes, we love her so, but we might've loved her too much. On some months, she depletes her allowance, but demands more."

Lataa and showed up soon. Inka couldn't help but see that while the attendant knelt, Lataa didn't. Ignoring that fact, Inka asked the attendant to rise and then told Jorun to hand the package over. "I asked my cook to experiment with some recipes from my homeland. She succeeded with some."

Princess Lataa's attendant opened the package for her mistress' oddly sour eyes. Lataa's mouth looked as if she'd been sucking on something far too bitter, and her nose looked like it was in pain. Inside the package, there were round and boiled dumplings made of barley flour and potatoes, a small bowl of oat porridge that had been sweetened with honey, wrapped blood sausage that had some oats mixed in, and a serving of mashed potatoes with slices of pickled vegetables.

With a light huff of a breath, Princess Lataa said, "Put it away."

A maid hurried to take the food away from the attendant.

The princesses sat on cushions and they were served light crackers. Inka was the one to begin the conversation. "Young Miss Lataa, all this time has passed, and we haven't enjoyed each other's company often." She reached over to put her palm on the back of one of Lataa's limp hands.

One corner of Lataa's red lips jerked up then back down.

"And I firmly believe," Inka said, "that in order to have a successful marriage, I should socialize with as much of my husband's family as I can."

Something nearly pleased folded around Lataa's eyes. She smiled at Inka and told her, "We certainly should have our time together." She demanded a maid come and play music for her guest while they enjoyed card games.

It wasn't a bad time. Lataa was a stubborn, rash player. That made the games easier to win yet also more entertaining.

When Lataa swept the cards off the table, ordering a board game, Inka smiled and nodded. That game went on for a while, but Inka pretended to struggled and gave Lataa the victory. Lataa's response to the end was self-applied applause. She soaked up congratulations from her attendant.

Inka never bothered Lataa about the tapestry she'd given her. She didn't know where it was, but she decided it wasn't important. Lataa could've shredded the tapestry for all Inka cared.

And it turned out that keeping Lataa entertained was simple. Flatter her, let her win games, and just let her think she was in charge of most things.

In fact, Inka was able to stay in Lataa's apartment for many hours. She even had lunch and dinner there. It was almost dark by the time Inka rose and said she wanted to go home.

On the way back, Jorun rather passionately asked, "Could we visit Her Highness again soon?" One of her hands was on her heart. The other was on her cheek. Her eyes were sparkling.

Inka laced her fingers over her lap as tiny, happy little wrinkles showed in the corners of her eyes. "As long as Her Highness is willing, I'll go to her or let her come to me."

The morning after that, Nitishila visited Inka. When she told him that she'd tried to be more friendly with Lataa, Nitishila merely shrugged. "You don't need to be friendly with her," he said. "Simply tolerate her the best you can."

"Wouldn't you prefer to have your wife and sister be good friends?" Inka asked as she put a hand on one of Nitishila's arms.

He turned to smile at down at her. "I don't know if it's even possible, but if you can manage it, then you'll have my admiration."

What a lovely thought!

***

Charcoal, smoke, grilled meat, earth, and silk all put their scents in Jaya's nose. They were all so strange when put together.

She was sitting at a small, outdoor dining table on a stone balcony that gave her a breathtaking view of the mountains. Across from her, her husband, King Arni was cutting into a chunk of venison. He was tall with shoulder-length black hair and dark eyes, generally fine enough to look at.

"You should gain more weight," he said after swallowing a bite. Then he wordlessly put some of his own food onto her plate. A few small boiled potatoes, some sections of his venison, and a few slices of boiled eggs.

Jaya had quickly learned that Arni preferred a woman with a fuller figure, pregnant or not.

"I'm grateful for your concern." Jaya put a fork to one of the potatoes, sinking the tines in. "I believe your sister is being given similar attention in Gehna."

Arni nodded with hard eyes pointed down at his plate. "I'd assume so."

The little potato was sliced in half without the need for a knife. "Nobody seems to want to discuss her. I can't even find a painting of her."

As if that wasn't strange at all, Arni replied, "After she left, it nearly became a rule."

Jaya's hair didn't move as she rose her head. Her hair was up in a tight, but well decorated coiffure with a small cap of velvet and lace. "What became a rule?"

"Keeping her name out of our conversations."

Blinking very slowly, Jaya put her fork down. "Why?"

"Hm?" Arni didn't look up. He chewed and swallowed more food. "Why do you care?"

"I'm beginning to wonder if she'd sinned against her country."

That statement was what made Arni put his utensils down and push his plate away with the side of his hand.

Seriously, he met her eyes.

And he told Jaya, "It's fair to say my feelings towards my sister are ambivalent."

***

It was one of the hotter days.

Inka and Jorun lounged around wearing minimal clothing, even by Gehnan standards, while maids swept small portions of ice over their skin, mostly on their brows, napes, hands, and feet. But they'd change the pattern every once in a while.

"No matter how pampered a beautiful woman is," Jorun weakly said, "she'll reek of sweat when the weather's hot enough." She spoke in Eiraglan. "Basically, everyone smells awful, including us."

Above the foreign women, there were several large silk fans attached to a long cord. A maid held the end of the cord and regularly moved her arm, waving the fans back and forth. Everyone was grateful for the fanned air.

Inka adjusted her position so a maid could pin her hair up. "There's no need to be rude."

"Yes, Mistress. I'm terribly sorry." Jorun's tone was too vibrant to suggest she was apologetic in any way. She let her head tilt backwards to face the air from above as someone traced shapes in ice water on her freckled shoulder. "It's so hot that Princess Lataa refused to visit us. What a disappointing day."

"Such a weak girl," Inka said as she gestured towards a maid with free hands. She asked in Gehnan, "Would you please find the housekeeper for me?" As the maid went off, Inka returned to using Eiraglan. "Even in this weather, my husband has decided to play with his pets." She sighed. She'd hoped to give him a visit, but since the pets were involved, she'd rather not.

Jorun took a sip of water from a cup. "You truly hate those animals, don't you?"

Shaking her flushed head, Inka said, "I can admire the tigers from a distance, but the snake frightens me."

"Well ... it is a snake, after all. It would be ridiculous to not be afraid of it."

"You've just called my husband ridiculous."

"I'm terribly sorry. Please forgive me." Again, Jorun didn't sound like she was apologizing.

The housekeeper arrived and knelt before Princess Inka. "Rise," Inka said with a flick of her wrist, obviously using Gehnan. Once the housekeeper was standing, Inka gave her orders. "The heat's unexpectedly risen in the last hour. Make sure everyone in the apartment, even the lowest maid, has access to plenty of drinking water. Check on the guards regularly. When they need more water refill their flasks for them so they won't have to leave their posts for trips to the well."

"Yes, Your Highness," the housekeeper said before walking away, her head lowered.

"Ah? Always concerned over your servants' needs? Such a fetching little creature."

Inka knew that voice. Her husband had surprised her again. Strange, nobody in the family would make a habit of sending letters in advance to warn about their visits, even though they were technically supposed to.

"Ah, nobody kneel. I know you're all busy." Nitishila was looking particularly grand as he sauntered into the room, his hair wrapped away but his body shining from a small amount of sweat. At his side, Mamun held a familiar glass tank.

Inka told all the maids to stop rubbing ice around and go on with their normal duties. Then, as she and Jorun adjusted themselves in their seats, Inka asked, "Has my husband brought his favorite little serpent to me?"

"Dhaval's joyous today," Nitishila said as his ringed fingers went to the tank's lid. "I thought you might be willing to touch him."

Still as cold as ever, Inka stood up and slowly moved her hand through the air. "You've been made completely aware of my discomfort."

Dhaval was on Nitishila's shoulders now, like a piece of white jade jewelry that oddly flowed. Lightly stroking the body with his fingers, Nitishila took a seat, and he looked up at Inka with a raised eyebrow. His free hand rose. It was a large, handsome hand. The sight of it reminded Inka of pleasant feelings, feelings that had her womanhood ...

Inka's smallest finger wobbled.

Cunt ... her cunt ...

It was burning in the most innocent, cleanest way.

Even though Inka hated knowing that snake was nearby.

"Inka, won't you come sit beside me? Dhaval won't harm you. He has no reason to."

Turning to the somewhat frightened looking Jorun, Inka said, "Retreat if you must. I won't hold your feelings against you." Jorun backed into a wall, near an archway, but she didn't leave, even though she lost some of the color in her face.

The muscles in Nitishila's throat stretched as he tilted his head to one side. He put his hand around the snake, near his little white head, and he said to Inka, "Come and pet his body. I'll keep his head away from you."

His tone ...

It was assertive, no doubt, but something similar to hospitality was there too. He sounded like he was trying to make a child try a harmless and delicious dessert, but that child was grumpy and didn't approve of the exact amount of powdered sugar or honey, or some other pointless argument. Oh, there are three cakes on the plate instead of two. The number three's bad. Something silly like that.

Inka knew she couldn't control the blood that flooded her cheeks. It was irritating. This man could force her emotions into the daylight, perhaps even when he didn't mean to do so.

"I'll touch the serpent's body, but then I'll walk away."

Nitishila grinned. His teeth were so eye-catching. Clean and mostly straight. His lips' shapes framed the teeth well. "I'll accept that."

Ignoring the perturbed squeak that came from Jorun's throat, Inka walked back to the seats and sat down beside her husband.

He smelled ... oddly wonderful!!

His hair, his flesh, his clothes, and his sweat, even the metallic notes from his jewelry.

Thick and virile.

Inka put in extra effort than normal to keep herself from shuddering in front of everyone else.

Her brain repeating the phrase, "it'll be fine," many times, she reached up and lightly rested the pads of her fingers on Dhaval's skin. He was silky, dry, and smooth. "There. I've touched it." She got back up and took some steps away.

Nitishila put both hands on his lap as his features relaxed. His shoulders lowered, which lowered Dhaval, but that snake didn't seem to care. He gazed up at Inka and said, "You certainly are willing to try new things, but perhaps you needed to be that sort of person in order to survive here."

Wiping her brow with a handkerchief, Inka asked, "Is there anything else you'd like for me to try?"

He didn't answer then, but he did wink at her.

And to Inka's relief, he asked Mamun to approach with the tank so he could put Dhaval back inside.

***

Inka had to inhale her husbands sweat for so many hours. It felt amazing. It really did. It should've been disgusting. Her brain disagreed. Every whiff of his perspiration made her think of the times when it was on her intimate body parts, the times when he held and kissed her, and certainly the times when her feet nearly cramped and her ...

Pussy?

When her pussy would feel like it was swelling but it still had enough room to take her husband in.

Sometimes she'd lean into him and let their sweat mix, putting her cheek on his shoulder or her hand on his arm. Whenever this happened, Nitishila would murmur a phrase she could barely understand and pat her hand.

Mercy was granted when the sun set. The air was so blissfully cool. Everyone was able to wash their skin without worrying over a new layer of sweat coming a half minute later. Inka wouldn't even bother the servants for a while. She didn't have the heart to keep them from a refreshing wash. When she explained her feelings to Nitishila, he smiled and personally poured water into a large bowl for both of them to enjoy.

Completely alone in her bathing chamber.

Undressing in the limited firelight.

He was a casual beast, an unwinding creature. He could snap and fight at any time, but he didn't need to. He swiped his grand expanse of muscles with his dripping cloth, and his eyes should've been on himself, but they weren't. They were on her, tracking her fingers as they sunk into her cloth into the bowl, as they rose and squeezed extra water away, as they rubbed said cloth all around herself.

Inka wondered if, even in the poor light, he could see how her skin flushed. Perhaps he might at least notice that her nipples were hardening?

"My hair's dirty now," Nitishila said after a while, still eyeing her, wringing his cloth.

"We have plenty of soaps for the scalp here," Inka said, gesturing towards a lacquered cupboard. "And plenty scented oil to replace the moisture it washes away."

He nodded at her. "That's fine."

Inka decided she'd be the one to assist him. As he sat on a stool, she scratched and rubbed his scalp with a handful of soap. She used it for his beard too. "I must confess, Husband," she told him as the moist, rustling noises made her think of hairbrushes and sea foam, "that I've often forgotten that beards needed to be washed."

"You've never had a beard. You wouldn't think of such a thing." He closed his eyes and protected them with his hands as she rinsed him off, massaged in some oils, and then rinsed him off again.

When there wasn't any soap left, and his hair was smooth and flat from the weight of the water, he took one of her hands and looked up at her. His wet face was somber. His eyes seemed glossy, as if he might cry soon. Inka didn't know what to think of it.

"What's disturbed you, Husband?"

Nitishila pointed out something Inka didn't want to address.

"You always try to hide your emotions."

Inka sighed and bent her fingers around his. "Does that matter? You always perceive the truth."

"That's a lie." His tone wasn't accusatory. "Sometimes, when I'm alert, I know when you're angry or uncomfortable, but even then it can be difficult. I once thought I fully understood women, but you've proven me wrong. Your face is normally marble, beautiful yet overly consistent, and your body language, while elegant, is far too disciplined."

"Have I aggrieved you?" Inka's free hand went to his beard. The back of her knuckles stroked the wet hair.

Nitishila took that hand. He put it near his other, holding both of her pale hands as if he was trying to protect them. All this happened while his eyes remained inflexible. "I wonder if you've aggrieved yourself, or if someone else has aggrieved you. You're caging your feelings. Are you even human?"

Inka allowed herself one of her subtle little smiles. "Do you truly believe I'm a fairy?"

A shake of the head, and he said, "I won't accept a distracting jest right now. My heart's too heavy for it." He smiled too, but it was a false smile. His cheeks hardly moved and his eyes were too stern. "It seems as though the moments when you're the most honest, when I can finally reach into your heart, are when we try to conceive a child."

Inka felt his blood rush in his hands. She soaked in the sudden warmth and loudly exhaled. "How could I possibly hide my emotions in such an extreme state? It's exhausting."

His tone lowered, curled, and thickened. "Perhaps I'll need to exhaust you in order to learn more about your mind."

Nitishila stood up then, and he hugged her.

Inka chirped a little.

"Ah, there's a crack in the wall." He dug his fingers into her mostly dry coiffure. She hadn't washed her hair, hadn't felt the need to. "All I need to do is probe deeper."

That statement reminded Inka of something else, and she knew she was blushing.

He took one of her breasts in his hands, grazing her nipple with his fingertips. His lips stamped on her brow, and he whispered, "I crave these moments." He pinched the nipple between his fingers' lengths.

"I ... oh ...!" Inka sucked her lips against her teeth as pulsing energy rolled down from her nipple to her cunt. She gripped his shoulder and let her face relax. "I ... I'm glad to please you."

"Are you?" He kissed her cheek. "Then would you mind trying something for me?"

Inka didn't care what he wanted. It would be done. With hazy eyes, she nodded up at him.

The stool was placed close to a wall. Some towels were put on the floor near that stool. Inka was told to kneel on the towels, which were likely there to serve as a cushion. Nitishila sat back down on the stool with the wall supporting his back.

At first, she thought the next set of instructions were odd, but then she realized the mechanics made perfect sense.

Her hands gripped his thighs. They were strong things, impressive and satisfyingly thick. Her lungs were filled with the scents of water, mild soap, and musk.

His ...

Cock ...?

It was already trying to rise, not fully prepared for its duty but happy in its beginning stage.

She let the front of her tongue slide over the head and the tiny hole.

Was it similar to her own flavor? Maybe?

"Hmmm." Nitishila's head tilted back against the wall as his eyes closed. His tongue snaked out to wet his lips and then hid again. "Wonderful, Inka."

Alright, so how much could she take in?

His scent only became more powerful, especially since she had to breathe through her nose. Her tongue's added thickness only decreased the amount of space in her mouth. It wasn't something to think about in the first few moments, but over time Nitishila's cock grew. The girth was trouble enough, but the length soon bothered her. She couldn't put all of it inside!! She'd accidentally swallow part of him if she did, and then she'd vomit. Inka thought she knew her own limits.