Page 156 of Conspirators' Kingdom

Radjedef sliced his way through the thinning throngs, a grin of feral delight on his face.

“How is this possible?” She pointed at Khety.

“He’s part shapeshifter!” Radjedef replied, sword cutting through another throat.

“How do I kill him?” she asked, heart clenching.

“Destroy his heart and cut off his head.”

After what he’d done, she would relish it.

“Protect me, and be ready to act on my command.”

Mereruka concentrated on deflecting his brother’s spells and flinging his own. His hair tangled with Khety’s talons, the magic thrumming through it no match for Khety’s unbreakable grip. It was all he could do as he waited for his arm to be torn apart. Only the echoing thunder of his wife’s lightning assured him she still lived.

“Bloody revenant! Just die!”

“You first, shapeshifter!”

If only he’d known Khety’s shameful little secret, it never would have come to this. Vasilisa would still be alive. His wife wouldn’t be in danger below.

Khety’s father had been a shapeshifter.

Nothing else could explain his ability to shrug off the effects of iron poisoning, his new arm, his disappearance into smoke, or his obscene number of tattoos. Khety didn’t have nearly as much in the way of innate magics as Mereruka, hence the tattoos, but he made up for it by being twice as hard to kill. No matter how grievous the injury, so long as a shapeshifter’s heart still beat and their head remained attached, they could recover by turning to smoke and reforming themselves.

“You’ll tire first! When that happens, I’ll tear you apart!”

“Will that be before or after Serfka fucks your wife?”

Khety swiped his other foot at Mereruka, missing his eye by a hair. Mereruka’s teeth clenched as agony ripped through him. Flesh tore and bone cracked anew in Khety’s merciless grip. Mereruka saw stars, his gorge rising, his strength and magic failing. Better to lose an arm than his life. But he had to get Khety angry enough to actually tear his arm off. He had no doubt Taisiya was watching for him, a bolt of lightning at the ready. He needed his brother to drop him.

“At least someone will give the poor woman children! You were too afraid your spawn would come out more shifter than fae and reveal your parentage, weren’t you? Pathetic!”

They traded another round of spells. He tried to sever Khety’s legs, to free himself, but the king could shift between forms in the blink of an eye. Khety’s rage was making him sloppy, but blood loss would kill Mereruka faster. As his head swam, he hurled another round of insults.

“It’s why Mother was going to choose Serfka over you! You weren’t fae enough to measure up to her standards, or anyone else’s! If you were bloodthirsty enough to kill her for it, you shouldn’t have stopped until all of Maat was awash in the blood of bigots. But you’ve always been a coward!Poor little faeling!Covering yourself in tattoos, and still you’ll never be good enough!”

“Good enough to end you!” Khety shrieked.

Khety’s reaching talons would gouge out his eyes this time. Mereruka reached up to protect his head with his free arm. Khety snatched it, his talons piercing muscle and crunching bone. Mereruka howled with pain. Khety’s grin was manic. Still in flight, the king gripped his arms tight and began pulling, slowly shredding sinew. Black spots formed at the corners of Mereruka’s eyes. Khety seemed content to torture him to death slowly in mid-air.

Fool.

“I’ve always hated your ugly feet!” Mereruka groaned between gritted teeth.

With the last of his strength, he sent his magic into his hair. The long violet threads struck out like vipers. Made sharper than a blade, the strands cut clean through Khety’s ankles, succeeding where his spells had failed.

As Mereruka fell, he watched his brother become smoke and reform, whole again. Khety dove towards him, his talons a mere hairsbreadth from Mereruka’s face, blind to anything but his own rage.

Mereruka grinned.

Searing heat sizzled across Mereruka’s face and chest. A blinding light flashed before his eyes, and a second later, a deafening crack rent the air. Khety no longer faced him, and his precipitous fall slowed. He wouldn’t have his brains dashed across the stone floor today. Another three lightning strikes later, the room quieted. Though his landing was soft, the agony of his ruined arms had him gasping.

“Healer.” He winced.

Radjedef stared down at him. A thread of fear constricted his heart. Would Radjedef kill him in his weakened state? Catching the direction of his thoughts, Radjedef grinned. He leaned down and reached over to his arms. Khety’s talons still perforated him. Radjedef took his sweet time pulling them out, one by one, as Mereruka bit back screams.

“Luckily for you, I’ve healed my fair share of battle wounds.” Radjedef’s yellow eyes were all mischief.

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