Page 159 of Conspirators' Kingdom

Something almost resembling affection touched his cold eyes. He reached out his hands to cup Hemetre’s face.

“If only you could be made to submit. The realms we could burn.”

“I knew my fate when I walked into this damned palace. Do it then, King Mereruka. Let my death herald the end of Maat.”

His grip turned punishing and tight on Hemetre’s head, his eyes wild as the concubine squeezed hers shut.

“Not the end, you ugly little weed, but the beginning of a golden age. Maat will be an empire!”

He snapped her neck and dropped her body to the floor, the jar rolling about near his feet. Staring out at the fae who had dared to remain, his face lit with glee. He swaggered forward to address them. Taisiya kept her eyes on his soul.

“My first order as king of Maat is to raise Oblivion’s greatest army!” Power, thick and oppressive, swirled at his fingertips. Dead soldiers and guards shambled to their feet, listing from side to side, weapons in their bloodless hands. Khety’s headless corpse shuffled to the front. “Composed of the living and the dead! It seems my dear brother will finally oversee a successful battle. He shall be braver in death than he was in life.”

Sensing his distraction, Taisiya dove for Mereruka’s jar, snatching it before the thing that had become her husband could stop her.

As she rolled away from him, her chest hurt. She held a piece of his heart, his soul, in her hands, and it did strange things to her own heart as she beheld it. This small, stylized depiction of her teal-skinned husband stared at her with unblinking citrine eyes, and she could feel his love, his joy, his teasing mischievousness, his warm-hearted compassion, wrap around her. And yet it was not wholly him. Because only a few paces from her stood another man, this one with red-brown skin, impossibly glossy black hair and the wicked part of her husband’s citrine eyes. There lay his cunning mind, his cruel brilliance, his swaggering overconfidence, his violent whims. No matter which she looked at, both were wrong and incomplete, like a complex tapestry torn asunder.

If she were to make him whole again, she couldn’t hesitate, couldn’t waver. Mereruka had said he’d hoped to repair Nefertnesu’s heart by making her accept it back. She didn’t know what that entailed, but she had to try. She must be Taisiya Dragonsblood, vicious and implacable Queen of Maat, not Taisiya, beloved wife of Meri, fragile heart breaking the longer she stared at this stranger. She stood, straightening her spine, holding the jar that contained her husband’s feeling heart with a death grip. If the one before her held the whole of her husband’s follies, she had to wield them against him like a weapon. He would try to strike her down, and then he would be made to submit.

“I had forgotten about you, my homely little wife.”

“Then you have erred, husband.”

“Give me the jar, Taisiya.”

“No.”

He lashed out with his magic, a great, tempestuous blast of blue-green auroras, menacing enough to swallow her whole. It died mere inches from her face. Bewildered, he struck out again. The magic failed to reach her.

“Did you, perhaps, try to kill me?”

“What have you done to me?!” he snarled.

“I have done nothing other than accept your oaths… over the heart of my ancestor.”

Something like fear widened his eyes, gone in an instant. Taisiya tasted his magic on her tongue, his face growing more handsome by the second. His eyes dazzled her, like sparkling jewels. She wanted to run her fingers through his thick, silken hair, her tongue along his flawless, dark skin. Stepping forward, her grip on the jar loosened. Taisiya was ready to give him what he desired, her magnetic, handsome husband. She’d fought long and hard enough. Let her sink to her knees to worship him. Never before had her senses beheld such a man. Never before had she been so bewitched by beauty. Didn’t she deserve a chance to surrender, to live a life of easy subservience?

“Taisiya! Stop!”

“Don’t!”

He turned his face from her and glared into the crowd, who had retreated behind pillars for cover. It broke the spell for only a moment. He gathered magic at his fingertips, his hatred aimed at Vasilisa and Bas. The bodies of the dead turned as one, their weapons raised, an army yoked to his sinister will.

“Run! Now!” Taisiya shouted.

Vasilisa, perceiving the threat before Bas, latched onto him and snapped her teleportation charm just as a lethal blast would have struck them. Taisiya stepped back, shaking her head. Fucking fae magic! When he tried to work his magic on her again, she let a small current flicker over the jar, praying it wouldn’t kill him. He seized his chest with a gasp. The taste disappeared from her tongue. His army stilled, as frozen as he.

“If you even twitch your magic in my direction, I’ll destroy this.” Taisiya’s voice was soft but no less menacing.

“No, you won’t,” he hissed, trying to get to his feet.

“I will.”

“Liar!”

“Are you willing to test me?”

“You would die shortly after. No one would accept a lone mage as queen of Maat! Even now my court watches, waiting to strike.”

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