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Speechless

Chapter 11

The house Kayya lived in with her parents, brother, and sister was as beautiful and yet humble as any house in S'pru. It was made of the white sand that fell like diamonds on S'pru's shores, its bricks packed together tight with magic, rising like a tower to the pink sky. It was hugged by balconies and gardens, creeping vines and tall flowers. The walk leading to the door consisted of flat, smooth stones, and in the cool twilight, small fireflies bobbed to light their way.

Other houses stood in line alongside Kayya's, and Ettoras could see the foxes sitting on balconies, sipping wine, and murmuring as they watched their approach with pricked ears. Little cubs peeked around giant mushrooms and through clumps of tall grass, eyes large to see their god walking among them. Females glared at Kayya, jealous that she had been given to the Great Prince, while many foxes in general dropped to their knees before Ettoras and touched their foreheads to the ground as he passed.

Looking at their awe-stricken faces, Ettoras reflected that there had been suspicion for years that he wasn't a god. Many wondered why he was able to walk among mortals when his mother could not, while others supposed he was simply a demigod, half-mortal and half-immortal, and therefore able to walk among them. Ettoras looked at their reverent faces and wondered what they would think if they knew the truth. Would they love him still?

Kayya seemed determined to ignore the stares and smiled at Ettoras every now and then, sticking her tongue out and crinkling up her nose until Ettoras laughed. He took her paw and squeezed it, thinking she was so beautiful, thinking with guilt that she would possibly never see her village again . . . and because of him.

Kayya's village was deep in the heart of a forest, and the endless stretch of crystal-sand houses rose like white trees among the white trees. The village was called Ki'tore, was relatively small, and had always been a very peaceful, very happy place. But then . . . one could say the same about most of S'pru's villages. Azrian's twenty-year reign had been one of peace and prosperity, for those foxes foolish enough to threaten war on their own kind were banished to Aonre, never to be seen again. Foxes were exiled there regularly, and Ettoras had to question the wisdom of it: sending killers and rapists and warmongers to Aonre had to have bad repercussions for the creatures living in the other world. He would confront his mother about the issue, but Azrian would assure him that Aonre was already lost, already corrupt and crumbling. And she spoke of Aonre with something almost bordering indifference, to the point that Ettoras put aside his concerns and watched in silence as the criminals were exiled.

Kayya's parents knew Ettoras well, as they had watched him grow up playing with their children. In the past, they had always greeted him like a son, but that evening, they were in awe of him and fell to their knees in worship. They thought Kayya had been given to him as a sacrifice and were confused as to why she was still alive. Kayya led her parents inside, and sitting with them around the low fire, she and Ettoras explained the situation. Kayya's parents listened with somber faces, and when Kayya announced that she and Ettoras were leaving for Aonre, her father immediately spoke against it.

"Da . . ." Kayya began unhappily.

"Haven't I told you enough horror stories about that miserable place?" Kayya's father insisted wearily. "You have a good life here, girl. Our goddess has commanded that you should be the queen of a world that exists in peace, and you're running away to the world that is broken?"

Kayya's father was a small, elderly fox and looked exactly like a male version of his daughter: he had the same white mane and white socks, the same red fur, and the same cheerful disposition. But tonight he was grim and angry and adamant that no child of his would leave the world on a "foolish" endeavor to restore immortality to Ettoras. His name was Kaseka.

Kayya's ears flattened against the mass of her white mane, and Ettoras knew she hated displeasing her father. She wanted their last meeting to be a happy one, but Kaseka was so angry. She cast her eyes down and said stiffly, "I am not a cub, Da."

"Listen to your father," Kayya's mother scolded. Her name was Lemoha. She was a red fox with black socks and a short black mane. Her dark eyes were always serious and flat, for unlike Kayya and her father, she was not given to a cheerful disposition but more to one of anger and solemnity.

According to the Kayya, her mother had come from a different tribe who worshipped a different god and had been given to the Children of Eden as a blood price. Kaseka's tribe and Lemoha's tribe had been fighting for centuries over a broken engagement between their clans. To end the feud, the goddess Eden commanded that Lemoha's tribe give her tribe a new bride. That bride was Lemoha, princess of Tribe Ayni, born of magic, pure as fire. She was given to the prince of Kaseka's tribe, but her new husband was killed by dogs prowling for pelts, and she fell in love with Kaseka, a simple hunter. Their status-transcendent love was forbidden, so they fled, and when Azrian extended her bridge of light across the sky, they ascended to a world where tribe and status would no longer matter.

Knowing what he knew about Lemoha and Kaseka, Ettoras was surprised the two didn't have more support for their plans. He started to protest when Lemoha told them they would stay in her home until they had built their own, but Kayya silenced him with a discreet elbow and muttered in docile obedience to her mother. They then went up to Kayya's room without further argument.

"Of course, we're still going!" Kayya scolded when Ettoras questioned her. "We had to make them _think_otherwise - take off your sandals. You're tracking mud!"

Ettoras jolted and hastened himself to a chair. It was customary to remove ones shoes upon entering a house. There was even a basin of water to dip dusty feet in, but Ettoras was so eager to sit down with Kayya's parents, he had forgotten. He untied the sandal straps that wound around his calves and glanced around. He had never been in Kayya's room before. It was pretty and cozy, with bird feathers hanging from the ceiling in a riot of color, and various gowns pushing from the closet or else thrown across the bed. A bathing basin had been shaped from the wall, and Kayya waved her paw over one of the runes inscribed on the inside. The basin began to magically fill.

Ettoras swallowed hard when Kayya let down her mane with a toss and started to pull down her gown. Her big breasts jiggled free and trembled with her slightest movement. They swung down when she leaned forward to push the gown around her dainty ankles. Her legs slid against each other as she pulled her feet out, the calves round, the thighs shapely . . .

Ettoras slowly pulled his white robe over his head, watching intently as Kayya was humming and undressing. He rose from his chair and came to her, his large member erect with silent desire. She was still seated on the edge of the bath and looked up at him with fluttering lashes. She covered her breasts, her white mane tumbling around her face.

"I thought you said we shouldn't anymore," she teased when Ettoras sank to his knees before her.

Ettoras didn't answer. His nostrils flared as he pealed her legs apart. She was naked now, leaning back on her paws, her big breasts heaving with anticipation. He kissed her thighs as his mouth drew close, and then he was tasting her, hungrily, slowly. He had never imagined anything could taste so good, smell so good, or be so incredibly soft. And the more aroused she became, the more he wanted to taste her. The lips of her sex swelled against his face and he sucked them until she gasped. He could feel himself burning with desire, throbbing hard against the cold air - and then a mouth was on his penis. He almost choked.

"Isii!" Kayya wailed incredulously and her eyes fluttered wide.

Ettoras looked down and his heart almost stopped. Kayya's younger sister was lying on her back between his knees, slowly and carefully dragging her flexing tongue along his shaft. She was as pretty as ever: a white fox with red socks and a red mane, small and delicate, lacking her sister's wide hips and large breasts but possessing sharp little breasts that curved against the air. Her white cheeks flushed red when she saw Ettoras looking down at her, but she held on to his thighs and took his shaft in her mouth, sucking eagerly, gurgling on her own drool, as if silently begging to stay. It was just like when they were small: Isii had always begged to play with them.

A shudder went through Ettoras as that clumsy, wet mouth pleasured him. Even if he wanted to stop Isii, he didn't think he could find his voice. He had never been licked there before, and for a moment, he could only close his eyes and grimace against at what was happening. It was too intense. He was going to come. He looked up at Kayya's young, tight body, and with sudden abandon, devoured her pink sex until she was gasping. Her small paws stroked his golden mane as she wiggled and squirmed against the pleasure of his tongue, sighing, whispering his name. Then a look of horror crossed Kayya's face, and she cried, "Karabo! Don't!"

Ettoras looked over his shoulder in time to see Kayya's brother crawling on paws and knees across the floor. He was a handsome young male, with black socks, a black mane, and red fur like his mother. His hungry eyes glinted as he crawled rapidly toward Ettoras, saying as if helpless, "Forgive me, my god! But I must - I must know your love!"

Ettoras stiffened and his tail went straight up when Karabo buried his face in his buttocks. The male's careful tongue tormented his tender anus, which heaved and squeezed against the pleasure. But Karabo kept licking, clutching Ettoras' hard backside in fistfuls as he ploughed his tongue between. Isii sucked Ettoras even harder, as if it were suddenly a contest, and before long, drool and semen alike were sliding down Ettoras' trembling thighs. The pre-cum just kept oozing. Isii would stop sucking to lick it away, and as her tongue bathed his shaft, Karabo's hungry tongue slapped Ettoras' heavy sack.

Ettoras shivered against the pleasure and licked Kayya harder, hungrier, until she squirted against his face. He swallowed her juices and glanced up as he kissed her thighs to see her rubbing her own big breasts. Her lashes were fluttering, her breasts were heaving in her paws, and she reached absently to stroke his mane. He barely noticed. He was flinching in Isii's mouth, and unable to hold back any longer, his erection heaved, and he heard Isii gurgling to swallow.

They sagged in the silence that followed. Panting and weak, Ettoras sat with his back against the bath, his head between Kayya's thighs as she stroked his mane in silent gratitude. Isii and Karabo crawled to his lap. Sweet little Isii snuggled against his chest, all softness and prettiness, and he put his arm around her and held her tight, watching breathlessly as Karabo kissed his feet.

"My god . . . I would like to request . . ." Karabo whispered and glanced at the soft penis that lay quietly on Ettoras' thigh. "That is . . . most holy one . . ."

Ettoras laughed weakly but placed an encouraging paw on Karabo's head. Karabo brightened, and they watched as he crawled eagerly forward, his penis rock hard and dripping. He bowed his head over Ettoras' lap, and before long, Ettoras was moaning as the male pleasured him, sucking wet and slow, his head going up and down, until Ettoras was so thick in his mouth, the width of him had stretched the male's lips taunt. But Karabo didn't stop sucking and his enthusiasm didn't wane. He cupped and massaged Ettoras' sack, pausing to lick it before sucking his penis again. His mouth was eager but slow, warm and hungry but gentle. He kissed Ettoras' penis as often as he licked and sucked, moaning as if giving him pleasure were as delicious, as wonderful, as receiving pleasure from him.

"A-Ah!" Ettoras tried breathlessly to speak, but the pleasure had stolen his voice. With a gasping mouth, he touched Karabo's mane and frowned as the submissive male sucked him long and slow to the head. He dragged his tongue down the shaft and devoured again, and Ettoras melted, his head falling back between Kayya's thighs. Kayya smiled and stroked Ettoras' mane. Isii gazed at Ettoras dotingly and rubbing his heaving chest. She kissed his neck and licked his ear as Karabo sucked, and he squeezed her tight in his arm.

"Mmm, most holy one . . ." Karabo whispered, frowning in ecstasy as he dragged his tongue along. "Come on my face, most holy one. Allow me to bathe in your blessing."

Kayya laughed softly and rolled her eyes. "Oh brother."

Isii only watched, mystified, as the great penis twitched and squirted on Karabo. Karabo closed his eyes as the spray hit him and smiled. "Most holy . . . I am unworthy . . ." he whispered, kissing Ettoras' thighs.

They cleaned up in the bath, though Karabo and Isii insisted on cleaning Ettoras and even wound up bickering over the sponge. Ettoras quickly decided it was best that he not sleep at Kayya's house that night, and wanting to give Kayya proper time alone with her family before they left S'pru, he left her house in search of Nerayn.

Nerayn didn't live in the same village as Kayya. In fact, Ettoras' old nursemaid lived in another village very close to the CrystalPalace. As he flew along, Ettoras could see the floating palace rotating large in the sky. The golden shield of light was still strong around it, an impregnable wall, and he tried to still his bitter heart. He hated himself when tears started to his eyes. His mother's insistence that he leave the only home he had ever known still cut deeply. He understood that she was trying to do what was best for him, but at the same time, it still felt like rejection: he wasn't immortal, so he was not worthy.

Night had truly fallen by the time Ettoras reached Nerayn's house, and he flew directly through her bedroom window, pushing his wings back to glide smoothly in. He had done it before when he was a boy, when he had been out playing with friends and wanted to show her some creature he'd captured. But he had never come to her in the night like this, and as his feet touched the floor, he realized she might not be alone.

Ettoras slowly rose from his squat, his powerful thighs and ripping belly flexing. He tucked his wings tightly to his back and peered through the room with eyes that glinted. The room was dark, but moonlight fell through the open window and across the bed. Nerayn lay in a modest little bed, alone, surrounded by gently billowing white curtains. Flowered vines wound around the bedposts, and each time the wind lifted, flower petals scattered across the bed. She was lying on her side amidst the petals, sleeping peacefully, and the rise of her hip and breasts was outlined clearly under the sheets. Ettoras drew near the bed and saw she was wearing a white nightgown, the thin straps of which were hanging off her shoulders to reveal her cleavage. She looked so still and sweet in her sleep. She had always been a gentle, loving female.

"Raynie," Ettoras whispered.

Nerayn moaned and her lashes fluttered as her slanted eyes came open. She frowned to see Ettoras there. "Ettoras . . .? What are you doing here?" She sat up and the sheet slipped down as her full breasts jiggled softly behind her gown. She pushed a strand of mane back from her face and regarded him with concern. "Is everything alright?"

Without thinking, Ettoras slumped to his knees and lay his cheek on her thigh. She stroked his mane as he told her about Kayya, his exile from the CrystalPalace, and his plan to travel to Aonre.

Nerayn sadly shook her head. "Yes, I saw the barrier. But do not be foolish, my prince."

Ettoras looked up at her, a tear clinging to his lashes. "No," he said, climbing up on the bed. He sat beside her and dropped his face in her shoulder. He was glad when she put her arms around him. "You're supposed to comfort me, Raynie."

"I'm also supposed to protect you," she scolded. "You are still mine to protect, and Aonre is dangerous."

"I must go. I must help Mother."

"Maybe you can not."

"I must try."

Nerayn sighed. "Fine. I will let you go. I will not tell anyone. Because I know the moment you go to Aonre, you will see its horrors, and you will return here. To my arms." She stroked his mane and closed her eyes. "My sweet prince."

Ettoras' cheek was on Nerayn's shoulder when she let the strap of her gown fall down, revealing her full, firm breast. She hefted it gently in her paw and whispered, "Suck. Suck as tenderly as you used to. It may be the last."

Ettoras stared at her jutting nipple. Nerayn's breasts had milk because Azrian made her breasts lactate, and even when Ettoras was well past the age to be nursing, Azrian had not lifted the condition from Nerayn. Thus, she was always available to nurse on command. Ettoras knew she had been nursing young cubs who had lost their mothers for her village.

"Suck," Nerayn whispered, "my sweet boy."

Ettoras closed his eyes and took her hard nipple in his lips. She sighed as he gently suckled, letting her warm milk fill his mouth. Her small paws stroked his mane down to his wings, stroked the hard muscles of his back and the deep line of his spine. He hugged her close and buried his face in her softness. Her breast rolled as he suckled gently.

"Mmm . . ." Nerayn moaned.

Ettoras hardly noticed as her small paw smoothed up his thigh and under robes. She touched his penis. He pulled back at once and stared at her in amazement. She smiled at him and tightened her hold.

"Nerayn!" Ettoras cried and pried her fingers off in alarm.

Nerayn smiled sadly. And she sat there, one breast hanging out, her black mane falling around her, looking forlorn. "Don't you understand?" she said. "I love you."

"Like a son," Ettoras corrected.

Nerayn shook her head. "No. At first, I was ordered by my goddess to kill you."

Ettoras stared at her. "You're lying!"

"No," Nerayn said simply.

". . . why were you ordered to kill me?"

Nerayn's long lashes fanned down. "Maret did not want you going to Aonre and becoming king there. Her child is already in line to inherit the old world."

Ettoras scowled. "Doesn't Maret know better than to mess with my mother?"

Nerayn smiled at him sympathetically. "Your mother? She is nothing to Maret."

"She's the daughter of Ti'uu!" Ettoras practically shouted.

Nerayn's ears went back and she frowned sadly. "You think that is going to matter? This world your mother created? It is a farce. It will end and she will end --"

"Don't say that again," Ettoras warned. "It's not true."

Nerayn only looked at him with pity again. "But it is, my pri --" The word had barely left her mouth when Ettoras slammed her by the neck to the bed. She went very still, watching him with something between amusement and desire. Her body wriggled seductively and she licked her lips.

Ettoras silently cursed her beauty. Her black mane spread and curled around her slanted eyes. Her naked breast had trembled violently when he slammed her and it was still wobbling. The nipple dribbled milk and he wanted to lick it off. And she knew it. She smirked at him, but her eyes softened.

"Ettoras," she whispered with warm eyes, "I spared you because I love you."

Ettoras squeezed his eyes shut. "Stop saying that. I was a cub. You couldn't be in love with a --"

"I was in love with the male you would be come. Maret showed me in the water. I fell . . . _helplessly_in love with what I saw. So I did what she told me. I came to S'pru . . . I made you mortal," she whispered apologetically.

Ettoras looked at her in disbelief.

". . . it was me," she said in a tiny voice. "It was hard to get near you. Your mother never slept, and her light was painful. She kept you always beside her throne. My father came to her as a supplicant and posed as a distraction. As she spoke with him, I crept upon you in your basket . . . and I stabbed you in the heart."

Ettoras swallowed hard. "With Skkye Glass."

"Yes."

"Was I like my mother before? Was I . . .?"

"No," Nerayn said with a sad smile. "You were only half-immortal. You had light, but it was nothing like your mother's."

Ettoras glared at her. "Where is it? Where is the dagger you used? Tell me!" He shook her roughly against the pillow.

Nerayn squeezed her eyes against the shaking and a strand of black mane fell across her sad face. "It was your mother's dagger," she whispered. "It should be in the CrystalPalace still."

Ettoras swore and turned abruptly from the bed. Of course, the dagger was in the one place he couldn't go! Not that he could infiltrate the CrystalPalace even if he had one. He was going to need help. Perhaps the help of a god. He turned to the bed again to find Nerayn sitting up, coyly tucking her heavy breast away again. She sat on the edge of the bed with her head bowed, and her long black mane swung forward to hide her expression.

"How can I find one of Ti'uu's shrines?" Ettoras asked her.

Nerayn shook her head miserably. "Oh, no, my sweet prince --"

"Answer me!"

"They are all across Aonre. But most are in Varimore."

"Varimore," Ettoras repeated.

"You shouldn't _go_there," Nerayn whispered to her knees. "Maret will hurt you."

"Let her try," Ettoras sneered. He turned to the window and was about to fly out, but he hesitated with his foot on the sill. He looked over his shoulder at Nerayn, who was sitting tensely on the edge of the bed, her head still down.

"You'll tell my mother, won't you?" Ettoras said darkly. "You'll find a way. You'll have Maret tell her where I've gone and what I'm doing!"

"No!" Nerayn swore to her lap. "Never, my prince!"

Ettoras grabbed her by the face and she screamed softly as he made her look at him. He couldn't believe it: she thought he was going to hurt her. But he leaned down instead . . . and kissed her warm on the mouth. She melted into the kiss, probably believing he had returned her feelings at last. He didn't know how it was possible or how he knew he could do it, but as his tongue slid against hers, he felt her breath steal away from her lungs. When he pulled back, she was unable to speak. Her mouth moved but no sound came. She looked at him in horror and clutched her long neck: he had stolen her voice.

Ettoras turned and swept out the window.