Page 150 of Conspirators' Kingdom

While Radjedef and Serfka healed their own iron burns, both the vizier and overseer of the royal guard exchanged glances.

“It could work,” Radjedef said.

“Except from that point on, he would have only his most trusted soldiers guarding him.” Serfka took note of Mereruka’s glamour before looking away. “As…formidableas your tattoos have let you become, not even you could overcome the combined magics of Khety’s royal guard.” Serfka sighed.

Unfortunately, he did have a point. Mereruka scowled, but had nothing to retort. If Vasilisa tried to drag him into the void, it might work, but if Khety already had protections against such an attack, as he likely would by now, her life would be in danger. He didn’t want to take any more risks with his family’s lives. They had all suffered enough for his lack of foresight.

“Prince Mereruka!”

Nofret emerged from the darkness, a genuine smile on her face.

“Nofret, are you well? We’re just debating how to use our soon-to-be publicly lamented deaths to get close enough to Khety to kill him.”

“Ah, yes, Vasilisa informed me he had left you to die by Itet’s trap.” Nofret noticed his siblings, taking note of Radjedef’s mark, and bowed. “Prince Radjedef, Prince Serfka.”

“Why bring your first scribe? What could she possibly add to this mess?” Radjedef frowned.

Serfka’s brow pinched in confusion before he gasped.

“You’re not… surely you’re not mother’s late spymaster?”

“There is nothinglateabout me, Prince Serfka. Though you have an excellent memory. I have not gone by that title for nearly two hundred years.” Nofret bowed again. “So you plan to fake your own deaths to catch Khety off-guard? How will you account for your missing corpses?”

“Destroying the buildings,” Taisiya said.

Nofret nodded with approval.

“If you wish to get close to Khety, then it must be at the funerals he will be forced to host for you. Though his guards will be present, so will a large number of nobles and their servants, to say nothing of the staff or entertainers.”

Wouldn’t that be a sight, sneaking into his own funeral feast in order to assassinate his brother? At least when Khety died, neither the festivities nor the sarcophagi would be wasted. Mereruka grinned.

“I expect Khety would hire a great many professional mourners for the occasion. It would be obscene not to, with four siblings and a sister-in-law all having perished in a single night.”

Nofret caught his meaning and beamed. Radjedef laughed. Serfka was slack-jawed with disgust.

“I’m speechless! Posing as professional mourners at your own funeral? That… I have no words for such a twisted ruse!” Serfka protested.

“On the contrary, you seem capable of producing a great many words for a man struck speechless by horror,” Taisiya retorted.

“I would be honoured to take care of the arrangements for you, Prince Mereruka. Will your brothers be joining you in this, or…”

Radjedef shrugged.

“Might as well.”

“I—” Serfka hesitated.

“You’ll have no better chance to take Betrest out of harm’s way,” Mereruka interrupted.

Serfka scowled but relented.

“Gods forgive me. Yes, fine.”

Mereruka nodded.

“Though I hate to offer shelter to you ingrates, you will require secure lodgings for the foreseeable future.” Mereruka grimaced.

It had not escaped his notice that while his brothers excelled at whining, they were terribly short on manners. They hadn’t even bothered to thank either Taisiya or Vasilisa for saving their pathetic lives. If they didn’t start showing some damned respect, he’d find another iron cage and leave them locked up in it one this was over.

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