Chapter 17 Coffeehousing

A Prince of the Nobillo

Chapter 17: Coffeehousing

They walked back to the palace in silence. Lindsay stared at the ground. What was there to even say that she hadn't shouted as Rivuk pulled her from the Temple? She'd made such a scene, but she couldn't even begin to feel bad about it.

To think that was the place where Carak was made. Her hand snaked around Carak's arm, feeling the muscle and sinew. Such a good man from that hellhole? It didn't even seem possible. Made in a factory, raised to kill and die, valuable only for his parts and what he could do for the races who made him. He and all the other Children of the Immortal.

She understood, now, why Rivuk wanted to wipe all three of their races from Okeshi. How could anyone with a soul look at that place and think anything else?

They reached the entrance.

"Do you want me to stay with you tonight?" Rivuk asked.

Lindsey nodded.

"Carak, thank you for your services today. I can take her from here."

"Yes, your grace," Carak replied.

Lindsay switched her hold to the arm of her husband, letting him lead her to the tower.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, shutting the door.

Lindsay said nothing.

"Neither am I."

"I'd like to go to bed, now," she said.

"I understand." He scooped her into his arms and flew her up to the loft landing, letting her down with him curling behind her in the bed. He embraced her tightly to himself.

"How much trouble did I cause you?" she asked, finally.

He pressed his lips against the back of her neck. "Some. We'll see how much in time. They won't want to push it until it's to their advantage. There will be the written apology from me, of course. That is unavoidable. Possibly a public one, depending."

"I'm sorry, I should have controlled my temper. Now they'll cause you problems all because of me," she said.

"It's understandable that you would react that way. I'll admit, I would have preferred if you could have flounced out of the room, rather than having me carry you. But the Korsuch don't matter, not to the Nobillo. So don't worry. We'll do what is required to appease them and life will go on."

She felt his kisses spread across her shoulders. How could he still be feeling so much love for her when all she felt was dead inside? His body shifted and he clasped her tighter to him. His love radiated into her. And she felt nothing. "Thank you, Rivuk," she said as she closed her eyes, pretending to be asleep until sleep finally found her.

She awoke some hours later. What had woken her, she could barely remember. A vision of a wooden door. It felt familiar, like she'd seen it somewhere in the palace before. It seemed to call to her soul, as if she should go and find it. Now.

No.

That's how she ended up here in the first place, by following late night visions. And she was tired. What was a stupid door going to tell her that was so important it couldn't wait until morning?

She felt a dull ache in her bladder.

She sighed. Fine, she thought. Guess I'll get up.

She carefully loosened Rivuk's hold, enjoying the little half-roused grunts he gave as he moved aside, and made her way up the stairs, stopping at the balcony when the bright light of the giant orange moon arrested her attention, the paler, yellow moon a tiny ball just inside its massive shape. She stepped out, leaning over the railing as the warm, sandy wind blew across from the canyon cliffs. The desert had a strange, painted appearance in the moonlight. Strips of black sand glowed with luminescent greens and yellows.

She searched the sky for the Milky Way, the light from the city and the moons making it hard to see the stars. She squinted. Maybe it just wasn't there. A chilling loneliness seeped into her heart. She hugged herself as she shivered. She glanced back into the tower, to the man sleeping in her bed, his loving arms waiting to hold her warm body again.

They would stay cold. She didn't want him.

Memories of the day flooded her mind. There was only one person she wanted to see. Desperately wanted to see. And hold. Her breathing began to quicken. Her eyes darted to his window. It glowed yellow in the darkness. He was still up.

She turned from the balcony, pulling her dress tighter. Up the steps. She shouldn't. Not tonight. A headiness crept into her brain, the air seemed heavier, her breathing fast and shallow. Images of him flashed in her mind. Carak, handsome and noble. She could see him answering the door. See herself...

She flushed the toilet and went to wash her hands. If she went to him, it could be disastrous. She looked up at the blotchy red flush of her face in the gold flecked silver of the mirror, her dark eyes flashing above the flaring nose and bright red lips of arousal.

It was monumentally selfish, she tried to tell herself. But those wise words were drowned out by her need to hold him, to tell him that she loved him. More than anything, she wanted him to know he was wanted, that he was loved and desired. He'd reject her, of course, she couldn't imagine him accepting her, even if he felt the same. But he'd know.

And maybe he wouldn't.

A rush of desire poured over her. She felt his large hands on her hips as she straddled his waist. Would it be his waist? Given what she'd seen, it could be like a human's as well. It didn't matter, as long as he was inside of her. As long as he could watch the ecstasy on her face when he made her cum. As long as she could see his when he came into her. The feel of his chest under her hands. Rock hard, his whole body. She'd been with some jacked men, but not like him. He could probably tear her apart with his bare hands. He'd be gentle, though, as he always was with her. All that strength under perfect control. Under her.

That's not how it will play out, she reminded herself. She wasn't even sure she wanted it to play out that way. But the fantasy of it left her leaning against the curving stone wall of the staircase. She had to do it now, before she lost the nerve. Tell him, let him have the moment, take the rejection, and move forward.

How was another problem. She still lacked the ability to move freely about the castle. The door only responded to the wristbands of those with specific permissions to enter and exit. And only Carak and Rivuk had those. Of course! Rivuk!

She quickly padded down the stairs and ever so gently removed his wristband. He didn't even stir! She'd be gone and back before he even realized it was missing. Probably. She could always apologize for it later. Assuming she didn't screw his hest and there was a later.

This is insane! she thought. I should just put the wristband back on him and go to sleep.

And yet, she didn't.

She walked down the stairs to the door and turned the handle. It opened. She was free!

The large, dark corridors of the palace appeared deserted. She kept to the shadows of the columns, watching for guards. She knew they were there, somewhere. She heard heavy footsteps and ducked behind a column as a pair of guards walked past, she waited until she could no longer hear the clanking of their metal boots.

She was halfway there when she stopped. No. She thought. I'm not doing this. This isn't who I am, sneaking down corridors to confess my love. I've never had an affair and I'm not going to start now. Carak deserves better than the position I'm about to put him in.

"I'll talk to Rivuk about it tomorrow," she whispered to herself. "Tell him the truth. It might hurt him, but maybe... I mean he knows I have other lovers. Maybe he'll be ok with sharing me." She sighed heavily. "Probably not, not even with Carak. But I have to try. Carak would definitely take it better if it came from both of us, anyway."

She turned back in the direction of her tower. He would know. That'd be her only stipulation to Rivuk. No matter what, Carak would know her feelings for him. Either she'd tell him or they'd tell him together, but he'd know. And then they could decide what to do from there. "Yeah, we'll have a nice long talk about it," she said, feeling much more confident.

As she walked, she suddenly heard a dull thumping, her head snapped to the sound and she saw it - the wooden door from her dream! Why was it thumping? She crept closer to it.

"Oh yes, Elihim! Just like that!" a husky voice moaned.

Ugh. Now she remembered that door. It was the door to the first prince's courtyard. And Elihim was having sex with Nylest, Rivuk's first wife, against it.

She heard a low moan and the banging of the door stopped. She rolled her eyes and began to walk away.

"I heard my husband's human whore caused you quite a lot of trouble today," Nylest said.

Lindsay stopped short.

"Yes, it was a complete debacle. Diplomatic suicide. She may be able to charm the people, but if she can't even manage one visit the Temple of the Immortal, she'll never be much of a princess," Elihim said.

"She'll never be a princess. It's no different from having sex with a kiton and calling it a princess. It's an insult to his other wives. What must we be if he would take an animal for a wife? And one of no virtue, at that. Have you seen the absolute barbarity they engage in? She actually put his telson in her mouth! And other places..."

"Disgusting, I know."

"I overheard Boz say she almost got into Project Jericho. Do you think she might have damaged anything?" Nylest asked. Did she know something about Project Jericho? Lindsay stepped closer to the door.

"No. They caught her at the door, thank the Immortal. Years of work could have all been lost," Elihim said.

"So the final solution to the Bonat problem..."

"Is still safe. By the end of the skell it should be ready to release. The Korsuch have informed me the contagion is one-hundred percent effective. If all goes to plan, within an iuna, all the remaining Bonat will be dead. Quite the ironic name," he mused. "The Bonat god of destruction will destroy them."

Nylest laughed. "You always were so clever."

Contagion? Oh hell! They were talking about biological warfare! Lindsay's heart began to race. Sirix... Donil... Nol... Everything of her current life fell away in an instant. Every feeling she'd been suppressing since she was taken burst forth from the ground she'd buried them in, painfully flowering.

She felt Donil's soft, naked skin against hers, her tender kisses trailing up and down her body. The way she licked her vagina. Sirix's rough hands on her breasts, tracing her curves, the feel of the scar that ran across his lips. The sensory memories overwhelmed her. She could see Nol playing with Filan and Vivi, hear Veralosa laughing at supper.

She couldn't let anything happen to them! She had to go home to the camp!

No. That wouldn't stop what was coming. She'd just be there watching them all die.

They had to go to the Temple of the Immortal and destroy it. She'd tell Rivuk. No. He'd want to do it diplomatically and that would take weeks. It had to be done now! Any delays and it would be too late!

She felt the wristband in her hand. She could do it. She was trained as a Bonat soldier. She could sneak in and destroy the disease, whatever it was.

What if she was caught? No. It didn't matter. All that mattered was saving Sirix and her people.

But how to do it? The entrance to the palace was well guarded. But there was one way. They wouldn't think to have that guarded. Only Rivuk could enter or exit from there.

She raced back to the tower and up the stairs, pausing as she took in her sleeping husband. "I'm sorry, Rivuk," she whispered. "But I have to do this and I can't risk you stopping me."

She ran to the bathroom and began tying together every dress and towel until she'd made a long rope. Then she pulled on her old Bonat boots, the ones she'd been wearing when she was taken. The ones with the spurs on the front and sides for climbing. Then her old scouting pants and jacket, the supple dark blue leather that almost made her invisible at night. She tied the skirt of her dress at her waist and ran a line of black across each cheek. Game time.

Tying her rope to the rail of the balcony, she threw it over. Ten feet short. She could make that jump. She took a deep breath. "You've climbed trees higher than this," she said, trying to reassure herself. She stepped over the rail. Trees had seemed so much easier. Sirix had been there, then. She'd be with him again, soon. She took the rope and quickly shimmied down.

At the bottom, she let go, dropping onto the grassy field of the outer grounds. She landed lightly, as a Bonat scout would. She quickly scampered to the cover of a set of ornamental bushes and trees. The tops of the trees brushed against the wall. She checked for guards and, seeing none, quickly climbed the tree to the top of the wall.

She froze, watching from a thick branch as two guards passed her. As they disappeared into the distance, she dropped down onto the wall and hopped over the other side, the spurs in her boots easily finding a home in the cracks of the wall. Climbing down was as easy as stepping down a ladder. Hopping off the wall, she quickly planned her route through the city. She'd stick to the back alleys and retsu paths the hooved, cat-like creatures traversed that were too narrow for the winged Nobillo to navigate.

She ran through the dark shadows of the city to the looming alabaster pillars of the temple, gleaming in the bright lights that shone upon the building through the night. Cameras, not guards, were the enemy now. There were no shadows to hide in here and the only thing running would do was attract attention. She took off her jacket and let her dress flow down. Inhaling deeply, Lindsay walked across the square to the temple, holding her breath, trying her best to look calm, like she belonged there.

She mounted the steps, and ducked into the garden, pulling her jacket back on as she hid behind the bushes. There were no lights in here, except for the glow from the outside and the moon. She threaded through the plants and trees to the door. Now was the moment of truth. She held Rivuk's wristband to the door.

It opened.

She bounced on the balls of her feet, getting ready to make a break for it. She'd only get one chance. The pale green lights of the empty hall flickered. She ran.

There was no turning back now. She was going to get caught. It was just a matter of if she made it to Project Jericho first. She sprinted through the labs, skidding as she turned the corner. There was the door. She slammed into it with both hands. It swung open, banging loudly against the wall as she practically fell into the room, sliding to a stop in front of...

Sirix! Floating in a stasis tank! Thick black tubes and wires traveled in and out of him. Her vision went black. She felt her consciousness slip.

She fought herself back. Her vision cleared. No, it wasn't Sirix. But it was a Bonat. He seemed younger than Sirix, and handsomer. His facial features were not quite as rounded, but more squared and simple. His athletic body floated in the blue liquid with only a loincloth around his waist. Arcs of electricity jumped up from his body and back in.

She quickly took in her surroundings. The dust of decades sat undisturbed on notes and beakers. The only panels that showed any sign of being used in the last lanc had thin brown circles on the buttons from where they'd been repeatedly pressed and never cleaned. This wasn't a bioweapons lab at all! Or, if it was, it hadn't been used for a long time.

She heard the sound of heavy steps running down the hall.

"She went this way!" a voice shouted.

She ducked behind the stasis tube just as the door opened, crouching in the shadow of it, willing her breath to move in and out so slowly it would never be heard over the humming of the machines.

"She's not here. Check further down."

"He said Project Jericho."

"There's no one there, see for yourself."

She heard another pair of hands hitting the door. Then, a moment later a grunt of frustration and the door swung closed. A few heartbeats later, the footsteps began running again, down the hall, away from her.

She stepped out from her hiding place, trailing her fingers along the glass. "Who are you?" she asked the silent Bonat man as she scanned his body.

No goncer. That was certainly strange. What was that on his wrist? It looked like a tattoo.

She knelt to get a better look. On the inside of his wrist was a tiny compass neatly inked above the looping script spelling out Jerry Cook. Beneath that were the words son of, and the next line TC with a little rope knot joining it to the letter K. Just below those, scraping the edge of the palm, was a heavily blurred tattoo that was not nearly as neat as the others, like it had been done at home instead of professionally. She couldn't quite make it out but it looked like a dagger through some sort of flower.

"Jerry Cook!" she breathed. She knew that name from the mast of the old Bonat ship. The one she thought might have been Timothy Cook's son. But he was clearly a Bonat... except he had no goncer... and why would they put a loincloth on a Bonat? There was nothing down there worth covering... unless there was.

In her mind she was back almost a year ago, in Sirix's tent, after her first Nobillo attack.

"The Bonat were fond of the humans," Sirix said. "Especially my grandfather who had made particularly close friends with one who had accidentally stumbled on one of the gates during some sort of battle. I suspect they were bonded, but I was too young when he passed to ask."

"Bonded?" she asked.

Sirix made a gesture of a finger going into a circle.

K. Kalix. Jerry Cook was the son of Timothy Cook and Sirix's grandfather, Kalix! Her head swam as the pieces began to fall into place. Sirix had said The Immortal was a cult that formed during his grandfather's time - within easy memory for him, but, for the other races, two hundred fifty years was older than their grandfather's grandfathers.

Jerry Cook must've been where they took the name Jericho from. But why? Why make him the villain? Sirix hadn't even mentioned him. In fact, she was pretty sure he wasn't aware of his existence - a half-human/half-Bonat person seemed like a thing he'd have brought up at least once in their marriage.

And why was he in a stasis chamber with tubes and wires and electricity running through him?

She pressed her hands on the glass. "Don't worry, Jerry, I'm going to get you out of here... somehow..." She searched around the tank for some sort of... she didn't know... a plug? Off switch? Something?

There was a metal chair. She could use that to break the glass. But that might kill him. "Ohhh..." She bounced on the balls of her feet, scanning around the room.

There! Lying on the table! A binder with the words Project Jericho on the cover. She opened it, flipping through the pages. It might as well have been written in French! She could read the letters and some of the words, but she didn't know what most of them meant. She'd never had much talent for science. Ah! There was a picture of the chamber. She put the book down and began to read, running her finger under the Bonat text.

"Greetings, Princess Lindsay."

Her back shot straight up. She turned slowly to face that squashed rectangular face and unnaturally shaped gaze she'd never forget.

"To what do we owe the honor of your visit?" Lucian said with a sickening smile.

She ran, but her arms were immediately caught by a pair of guards who lifted her off her feet.

"Put me down!" she demanded.

"You're in no position to give orders. Take her to the tribunal."

The guards carried the kicking and shouting Lindsay to the door.

"Wait!" Lucian said.

The guards stopped. Lindsay strained her neck looking over her shoulder at him, terror in her eyes. She could see herself on one of his silver tables having her eggs removed.