Page 57 of Conspirators' Kingdom

“That can’t be… sanitary,” Vasilisa opined.

“It is if you’re not filthy and mind your manners.”

Mereruka washed his hands and went to touch the food. The second his skin touched the serving bowl, a spell activated. Instead of a spell to keep the bowl and food heated, as he’d expected, the clay lining of the bowl exploded, revealing an inner core of metal. Iron. Instantly, wicked spikes flew out. Bas covered his face with an arm but cried out when several sank into him. Vasilisa dove, her arms stretched, trying to spare Taisiya, whose hands and shoulders flew up to protect her face. They screamed as sharp metal pierced flesh. Mereruka’s shock slowed his counter-spell, made weak by the iron. The acid burn of metal drove into his flesh. He swore and cried out. Vasilisa was the first to act, launching herself at the weapon without a care for her injuries and tossing it into the nearest cupboard.

“Taisiya!” she cried.

“Your arms!” Taisiya gasped as she opened her eyes to the sight of Vasilisa’s arms, stuck like a sadist’s pin cushion.

“Fuck!” Bas cried as he pulled one from his midsection.

As those around him began speaking, Mereruka stiffened against a rising tide of agony. Broken glamour and tattoos on display were the least of his concerns. Everywhere the metal pierced him, fire poisoned his veins. His magic guttered out like a flame in the rain. He fell to the floor with a choked groan. Uncontrollable shudders and twitches wracked his body, digging the spikes deeper.

“Dad!” Bas leapt from his seat and began pulling the spikes from him as fast as he could.

“Are they poisoned?” Vasilisa asked.

“Iron poisoning!” Bas replied, looking him over and pulling the last of the stiletto-like blades from his body.

Still the agony raged on. It didn’t matter that none of the deadly metal remained inside of him. It had pierced his flesh. He might as well have poured poison directly into his veins. This was not how he’d envisioned dying, by some low-class witch’s trick, hiding the feel of iron beneath enchanted clay. It seemed Khety had left nothing to chance.

“Gods below, we’re going to die,” Taisiya said, her voice hollow.

“What are you talking about?” Vasilisa asked, panicked.

“T-the marriage vows. Our lives are bound. If he…” She trailed off, “What can be done?” she asked Bas.

“The waters of the Hapi can cure it. I hid some below deck, in a red amphora with a green stopper,” Bas replied, already up and heading to the door.

“Stay here and keep him alive!” Vasilisa ordered before she dove into the nearest shadow.

A grey haze clouded his vision and the voices around him were growing indistinct. Only the fire that consumed him assured him he was still alive. Taisiya bent over him, her eyes swimming with concern.

“I have it, now what?” Vasilisa said in the distance.

“He needs to swallow some, and then his wounds need to be bathed in it,” Bas replied.

Bas propped him up and held him steady as Vasilisa uncorked the amphora.

“Hold his mouth open, Taisiya.”

She did so, prying open his nearly locked jaws. Vasilisa poured the water down his uncooperative throat. He managed to swallow a small mouthful.

“Now his wounds!” Bas ordered.

Bas pointed them out and Vasilisa poured. The agony lessened bit by bit—a miracle. There was a reason the waters of the Hapi were so prized. Even so, it wouldn’t spare him what came next. His flesh had been pierced, not just touched. The fire in his veins was replaced by a sweltering heat, and the agony by bone-deep weakness.

“Will he be alright?” Taisiya asked.

“Eventually,” Bas sighed.

Vasilisa put the nearly empty amphora down and began pulling out the needles from her arms and side.

“At least they didn’t go deep,” Vasilisa griped.

Once she was done, she helped Taisiya pull out hers. The last pinged as it hit the wooden table. Taisiya breathed a sigh of relief. It was all Mereruka could do to keep his eyes open as she turned to him with a grimace.

“If these are your dining customs, they can go to the deepest of hells.”

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