Page 134 of Conspirators' Kingdom

A muscle in Khety’s jaw clenched.

“So be it. Then be gone.”

Mereruka didn’t need to be told twice. Still, what was ailing his brother, and more importantly, was it fatal? Khety was well into his ninth century now. If Mereruka were lucky, the bastard would die of natural causes before his younger brother’s schemes did the deed.

Even the halls of the Court of the Innundation were absent their usual cheer and liveliness. The hatya present drank in sombre silence, casting inquisitive looks his way as he and Taisiya passed. Sedate board games and tranquil music were the order of the day. No one dared appear boisterous when their king was so clearly unwell.

“He looks haggard,” Taisiya whispered.

Mereruka nodded. Hopefully it was permanent.

“Maybe Bas has some idea why.”

When they reached their barge, now fully restored, Vasilisa was there already.

“Kitty left a note.” Vasilisa handed Mereruka the small papyrus scroll, tapping her foot impatiently.

Mereruka unrolled the message and read it over.

“He’ll be back by nightfall. He’s confident he’ll have retrieved my earring by then.”

Vasilisa frowned.

“I’m going looking for him.”

Taisiya nodded.

“Don’t scare him if he’s in the middle of something.” She raised a copper brow at her friend.

Vasilisa smirked.

“If he’s at the beginning or end of something its fine then, right?” Vasilisa tweaked Taisiya’s nose. “I’ve been learning my fae-speak like a good little spy.” Vasilisa melted into the shadows before Taisiya could reproach her.

Mereruka chuckled.

“She catches on fast,” he said.

“Vasilisa has always been fond of mischief. The way the fae speak is just another game for her.”

“And you, wife? Are you fond of mischief?”

He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. She looked better now that they were far from the graveyard. Gone were her haunted eyes and strange yearnings. Whatever spell those hearts had over her had dissipated. Though the strain of all that had happened was hidden beneath a glamour he’d woven on her—the dark circles beneath her eyes, a brow pinched in anxiety, palms marked by nails. He was worried for her—for them. Sometimes he feared that if he looked away, she would be gone, that her life would slip from his hands like grains of sand. Or she would decide she’d had enough of the peril he’d placed her in and leave, a part of his heart gone with her. After everything they’d just experienced, he feared he would break—thattheywould break, and that what they had would be undone and never recover.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I might break. I’m fine.” She narrowed her eyes, her voice clipped.

Lies. Mereruka furrowed his brow, placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her around, marching in front of a mirror. With barely a thought, he tore the glamour off her.

“What do you see, love?” he hissed.

Taisiya’s hands fisted as she looked away. Always so proud. Always the first to hide from her feelings, needing to be coaxed out. He needed her to be with him in this moment, to share it, to know he wasn’t alone in the dark, coiled mess of his heart.

“I can’t afford to be weak. Not now. We’re so close.” Her breath hitched.

Her words wounded him. If she were weak, then he was no more than a cowering mess.

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