A Prince of the Nobillo
Chapter 13: Fourth Suit Artificial
She was in a corridor somewhere. It looked like some sort of industrial laboratory with its oddly cold lights shining on walls covered in pipes and panels with screens and buttons. There was a door in front of her with a sign. She wasn't quite sure what it said. Her vision flashed and for a second she thought she read Danger! Project Jericho.
The handle to the door was above her, as if it were either really tall or she was really short. She turned the handle and stepped inside. Her vision blurred. Terror gripped her. Something she had seen, something she couldn't see. Like it had been badly erased.
Voices shouted. "Hey! You can't be in here!"
She felt a hand yank her shoulder hard.
She woke up, her head resting on Rivuk's chest. She leaned forward and kissed him gently. That same dream again. From the height, she guessed it was one of Rivuk's memories from when he was very young, though, for some reason, she could never remember it right in her dream.
The cool light of dawn filled Rivuk's room. It wouldn't be long before Deneta was awake and jumping in bed with them as she did every morning when Lindsay stayed over. She shifted slightly and smiled. They'd fallen asleep with him inside her again; from her wetness she could tell they'd met in their dreams. Sometimes she remembered them, sometimes she didn't, this morning the terror from her other dream was at the forefront of her memories.
She could feel Rivuk's telson hard inside of her. She rose to her knees and gently began grinding her hips against him. He loved when she woke him this way. He'd been the one to suggest it.
It was hard to believe it had been two iuna, almost a third of an Earth year, since they'd consummated their marriage, since they'd become a family. Her bond with Rivuk had only strengthened in that time. They'd become able to talk to each other without even speaking, not a lot, but some. It would grow in time, he said.
They still couldn't keep their hands off each other, even when they couldn't be together. Carak was often annoyed to find Lindsay spaced out during a lesson while her mind was off with Rivuk's on his lunch break, sucking his cock in his camp bed in a world only they knew. In that place, claws couldn't cut but they sure felt good.
She continued her Nobillo language lessons with Carak and was growing much better. She could even read some of Deneta's old books now. She still got a few of the letters mixed up, but Carak was a patient teacher. Deneta was less patient, often taking the book and trying to show her the right word. But it made Lindsay happy to see the girl no longer flinched at her and had grown confident enough to scold her, even if she still didn't call her mommy.
Carak was no longer pretending he wasn't teaching her to fight with a spear, having secret sparring sessions with her. Every time they fought, she gained more of an appreciation for how skilled he really was. His movements were so fluid, it was like watching a lethal dance. She could see in his muscles the strength he was holding back for her and she was glad of it - her hands hurt enough after their fights, anyway, she didn't want to imagine what it would be like to fight him at full strength.
They still enjoyed reading together and playing mancala at least twice a skell. Rivuk had learned early not to interfere with their little traditions. She could tell he felt conflicted about it, that he worried that their "inappropriate closeness" might be discovered and lead to punishment for his hest, but, then, he'd confessed to Lindsay, when had Carak ever been allowed the kindness of having someone close with him? Even he had to maintain a certain distance. He'd never seen happiness in his hest and he was damned sure he wasn't going to be the one to take it from him.
Lindsay screwed his brains out the night he'd said that. She'd needed a roll of dermal bandages afterwards.
It seemed strange to consider the palace her home. In some ways, Sirix's tent still was. But those memories were beginning to fade. She still had moments when thoughts of Donil or Sirix would leave her crouched on the floor, sobbing. But Rivuk was so understanding. He'd take her in his arms and kiss her and let her say everything she needed until she fell asleep. It made her love him more.
She and Rivuk spent the nights divided between his room and her tower, often depending if they took supper with Deneta or not. If they did, she'd stay over with him, if not, he'd stay over with her. She'd been worried how she'd be as a step-parent, but Deneta seemed happy to accept her presence.
She drew little pictures for Deneta of things from Earth. Lindsay was no artist, but they were good enough. Elephants and houses and tigers and cars all enchanted the little girl. But Deneta loved birds the most. Lindsay was really bad at drawing birds, but she got better with Deneta's forced practice.
"What's that one?" Deneta asked as Lindsay inked the black head onto an overly chubby little bird sitting on a snowy branch.
"It's a chickadee. We have thousands of them where I live," Lindsay replied.
"It's so cute! Can I keep it?"
"Sure." Lindsay changed her voice in a bad impression of some old actor she only knew of from cartoon impressions. "Anything for you, my little chickadee."
"I'm a chickadee?" she squealed in her high soprano.
"You're cute like one, so you're my chickadee," Lindsay said, with a smile.
Deneta shrieked with glee and from then on, Lindsay always called her her little chickadee. Lindsay really hadn't considered being a mom, but she loved that little girl with her tawny hair and bright green eyes and adorable little wings. She fought to earn her trust and silently celebrated every cuddle and confidence. They'd become a little family, one she cared for fiercely.
The détente with the Bonat continued into its tenth iuna. Three of those iuna she'd spent away from them. In the time she'd been gone, Donil would have carried two more Bonat babies to term. Lindsay wished she could have seen the births. She wondered if Sirix would have taken advantage of the opportunity to bring many of those golden eggs beside his desk into life or if he was holding back, not ready to concede the possibility of peace. A lot of babies were hard to move and even harder to hide.
But the Nobillo certainly seemed to have soured on the idea of the continued war. The more Lindsay spoke about the Bonat, the more popular they became. More than once she'd seen Nobillo children with their faces painted blue playing as their favorite Bonat from her stories. More and more, Rivuk's dream was looking like a possibility.
The royals had been slower to take to her, which she was fine with - the less time spent with Boz, the better. Still, she was invited to dine with the family on state occasions and managed a cordial, if cool, relationship with the queen and the first prince. The king still refused to even look at her and Boz did nothing but, always ensuring he had an excellent vantage point to leer at her. She wished she could use those spear skills Carak was teaching her on him.
She comforted herself in walking past the empty hallway instead, knowing Boz's victims were safe in their care under Carak's command. Despite Rivuk's best efforts to name her captain, she was still technically a prisoner and, therefore, not allowed to lead a unit, but Carak and Rivuk had her function in a shadow captain role. She called the shots, but they gave the orders. She'd wanted to personally unstitch their mouths, but that to fell to Carak. They would always carry the scars, but they were no longer silenced.
There had been twenty-six of them, all told. They were still a delicate group both mentally and physically. Six of them had been so emaciated they'd only started eating solid food two skell ago. A few of them would never fly again. But, for most, their wings were growing back. So far, five had been declared severely mentally ill from their traumatic experience, and she wouldn't be surprised if a few of the six would fall into that category after they were evaluated. Most of the women, however, seemed to be slowly working through their trauma in counseling. A special wing of the palace near her tower was outfitted for their care.
Two of the women, ones that he'd clearly only recently taken, were pregnant. One swore it wasn't his baby, the other insisted it was. But, when she found out declaring it his would result in him being forced to take her as his concubine, she chose to claim it had no father. The Korsuch doctor who examined the women said sixteen were in the process of or had resorbed their fetuses.
