Page 3 of Conspirators' Kingdom

“You used to be so cute as a kitten. What happened?”

Bas’ face heated with embarrassment.

“Shut up, you old geezer.”

“I still remember when you used to play with the rushes until you fell asleep.”

Bas hissed a warning.

“You and your stupid memories! When are you going to tell me about the plan?”

“I always knew where you were, with that little gold bell necklace. How you pranced when you first got it, all puffed up with pride.”

With a sudden burst of speed, Bas leapt over the desk between them, his claws out, ready to sink them into the fae. Mereruka swept to his feet, grabbed Bas’ wrists and used his momentum to throw him onto the cool stone floor with a dull thud.

“Better luck next decade, Bas. You’ll need to rein in your temper if you’re going to be my right hand.”

Bas winced but accepted Mereruka’s outstretched hand. Chastised, the shapeshifter trudged back to his chair.

“Well? Why isn’t The Prince of Dreams angry that his latest fiancée got snatched up by the king?”

It was a moniker he hadn’t chosen for himself, but he wholeheartedly embraced it. He was exceptionally gifted with magic, a keen mind, and a reputation for fairness in his bargains. Mereruka made the dreams of others come true, for a price, and desire was a very lucrative business. He’d needed the connections it gave him. Khety refused to give Mereruka any political or governmental role outside ruling the nome of Rhacotis, unlike the rest of his siblings.

“Because Hemetre and I made a deal: ten years of her life in exchange for marrying the king.”

“Really?” Bas tilted his head.

Mereruka nodded sagely as he sat back in his chair.

“You’ll find that people desire most what they think someone else possesses exclusively. Hemetre was incensed at being passed over as a concubine several years ago. His Eternal Serenity fears my growing influence and was bound to mistake my engagement to Hemetre as a move to grow my political clout, so he took it, and her, from me. The messenger will no doubt tell tales of my fury, which will delight my eldest brother. Bargain concluded.”

“Why bother? Haven’t you lost face?”

Mereruka shrugged.

“But what of the king?”

“Isn’t he just strutting about, crowing over taking your third fiancée out from under you? He even makes you tithe what you gain from your personal bargains. No one else is subject to that kind of indignity,” Bas said.

“Yes, and in the process, proclaiming loudly that he fears my power. Every indignity is more proof of his growing tyranny. Every action he takes to stymy me makes the nobles grow restless, worrying that it’ll be their daughters, their bargained gains, their wealth he’ll take next. After all, if he’s willing to do it to his youngest brother, a man fifth in the line of succession from the throne, who else will he deem a threat? One day soon, he’ll go too far, even for the servile nobles of Maat. On that day, I’ll be ready to strike him down and take what is mine. If I’m lucky, I’ll have their applause when I do it.”

Bas nodded and then scowled.

“Sometimes I think you fae are born loving your schemes and bargains more than your own flesh and blood.”

Mereruka laughed. The shapeshifter wasn’t far off the mark; not for the royal family of Maat, at least. He had six siblings and would happily discard them all for the chance to rule.

“Never fear a temporary loss of face, Bas. Provided you live, there will always be another chance to regain it. We play the long game. In another century, this slight will be long forgotten.”

Especially if regaining face included disposing of those who had done the humiliating, as Mereruka so hoped.

Bas’ ears twitched as he sat up with attention. In a moment he was smoke, and the next a juvenile cat was prowling about. The bell to his room chimed. Another messenger? Mereruka waved his hand, opening the door with a thread of magic.

The messenger that darkened his doorway wore the colours of the palace and the garb of a soldier. He was not attended by any of Mereruka’s staff. Whatever this was, it boded ill.

“Prince Mereruka, I bring orders from His Eternal Serenity the King.”

The messenger marched forward and placed a scroll before him, sealed with the king’s own cartouche. Then he stood, back straight, waiting.

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