Page 157 of Conspirators' Kingdom

Radjedef’s soldiers, standing guard, grimaced in sympathy.

Magic, tasting of vile sewage, made Mereruka gag. By the time his arms were whole, Mereruka’s gut roiled. He turned to his side and emptied his stomach. Radjedef laughed, slapping his back. One of the soldiers passed Mereruka a skein of liquid. Mereruka sniffed, surreptitiously using a spell to check for poison. He hadn’t come this far just to be brought low by a nameless nobody. Once he was convinced it was safe, he drank greedily. It washed away the taste of Radjedef’s magic and sickness, leaving only a fresh flavour in his mouth.

“What are you doing to my husband?” Taisiya asked, her voice like the crack of a whip.

Soldiers parted and bowed. In her hand, she gripped a rope of long, white hair fouled by blood. It was attached to Khety’s severed head.

“Fixing him,” Radjedef replied.

Taisiya looked Mereruka over, satisfied. Then she raised her prize, presenting it to him.

“A gift, husband.”

“You always did know the way to my heart,” Mereruka quipped, standing on unsteady feet.

He took her proffered gift, holding it by the hair. Triumph swirled in his gut. Khety was finally dead. Mereruka finally had the power to protect those he loved, to ensure by all the power of Maat that those he claimed as his own would never again suffer at his brother’s hands. Turning to Taisiya and seeing the brittleness in her amethyst eyes, he remembered that his success had not come without cost.

“I want a cloak of his fucking feathers. After what he did to Vasilisa, he died too easily.”

Mereruka tossed the head aside like so much rotten meat and reached for her. He desperately wished he could hold her, to comfort her, but electricity sparked across every inch of her skin, her grief overwhelming her. She closed her eyes, gritting her teeth as she battled for control of her magic. Sorrow choked him—choked them both. Another loved one he hadn’t been able to save.

“Can I have a matching one?” a hoarse feminine voice asked.

Taisiya whirled around. Vasilisa. Her complexion was ashen and a thick, pink line crossed her throat. Mereruka’s heart leapt. Bas supported her, a grin on his face. Tears streamed down Taisiya’s face and her breath came out on a shaky, pained exhale. She took a step towards Vasilisa, her hand reaching out as if she couldn’t quite trust her eyes and yet couldn’t contain her hope. Vasilisa’s lip trembled and she opened her arms in welcome. The lightning dancing across her skin quelled. Taisiya launched herself at Vasilisa and Bas. The three went down in a heap of hysterical giggles and choked sobs.

“You’re not allowed to die!” Taisiya sobbed.

“Don’t cry on your coronation day, I didn’t bring your makeup.” Vasilisa smiled, hugging her close.

“I’m a queen now. I’ll cry if I want!” she sniffed, burying her head in Vasilisa’s shoulder. Taisiya looked up and pulled Bas’ head towards her, planting a kiss on his dark hair. “Thank you,” she said, her voice solemn and fierce.

Bas wrapped his arms around them both.

Mereruka was about to join his family, but slowly, nobles came out of hiding and chanced glances into the hall from the rooms beyond, surveying the damage. Khety’s body lay headless, a blackened hole burned through his chest where his heart would have been.

Radjedef sighed.

“And so the cycle continues,” he muttered, taking a knee.

Radjedef’s soldiers followed suit. Vasilisa wiped Taisiya’s tears. Bas helped Vasilisa to kneel as Mereruka took his wife by the hand to stand at his side. Their family reunion would need to wait. They had a throne to claim.

“All kneel before your new rulers, King Mereruka and Queen Taisiya! May they bring order and plenty to Maat!” Radjedef called out.

Hatya, nomarchs, scribes, servants and more knelt and repeated after Radjedef. Taisiya squeezed Mereruka’s hand, her eyes sparkling with tears of joy. He lifted her fingers to his lips.

“I told you I would make you queen.”

She smirked.

“I made myself queen. I’m just allowing you along for the ride.”

Mereruka laughed and swept her up in a fierce kiss. Lifting her into his arms, he walked her to the thrones. As he stepped through pools of blood, over the bodies of their enemies, he’d never felt such triumph. Khety was dead. His remaining siblings were bound and leashed. There was no one left to stand in his way, to make him a wretched supplicant or a powerless pawn. He was king. And it was all thanks to the wicked, lovely woman in his arms. Mereruka put her on the queen’s seat and sat down in the king’s. This was where they belonged—where they’d always belonged. And now, Maat was theirs to mould into whatever they pleased, its riches theirs to dispense with, her rivals theirs to manipulate into ruin. He could hardly wait.

Mereruka surveyed the kneeling crowd and bade them to stand.

“As my first command, I—”

He gasped, hand flying to his chest, his nails biting into his breast as his heart stuttered in agony. Taisiya’s head whipped to face him, her eyes wide.

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