Page 67 of Conspirators' Kingdom

Taisiya covered her mouth and held back a laugh. Mereruka rolled his eyes and placed an oversized gold wrist cuff on the table before Vasilisa. She picked it up, inspecting it as if it were an insect.

“It’s not going to bite,” Mereruka sighed. “You’ll need to wear it to be identified as a member of my household. With that, you can purchase things in my name and come and go as you please on my properties and anywhere else I’m welcome. It will also protect you from a number of common curses and spells.”

Vasilisa scowled but slipped her hand and wrist through the too-large loop. Just as she opened her mouth to complain about how it would only fall off, it shrank. Instead of the huge gold cuff it had been, it was now a delicate bracelet with a central stone of carved turquoise.

“I don’t taste anything,” Vasilisa said.

“Then I wove the enchantments correctly,” Mereruka replied. With a twist of his wrist, he summoned a finely crafted, gleaming wooden box. He slid it before Taisiya and opened the lid with a flourish. “The first of many, I promise, but for now, this is your battle armour.”

Taisiya held back a gasp. The collar was a masterpiece of multicoloured gems, strung together by gossamer-thin golden chains in a dozen neat rows. Bas hopped from Mereruka’s lap as he stood and made his way behind her. Lifting the piece from its bed of silk, he placed it on her, clasping it behind her neck, his fingers trailing down the sides of her neck and shoulders as he spoke softly in her ear.

“Every gem is spelled. When you wear this, you’ll have all the same protections that my tattoos give me.”

Had the air lost its heat? She shivered, and not just from the change in temperature.

“Thank you.”

He walked back to his seat and grinned.

“It will also prevent you from wilting in Maat’s heat. The air around you will be made a comfortable temperature for you. Eventually, you’ll need to adapt, but we can worry about that later. I can’t have my princess consort arriving in a dishevelled state now, can I?”

Her posture was perfect, her hands folded in her lap and a serene, almost-smile on her lips, Taisiya was the picture of calmness. All the while, electricity danced underneath her skin, her only outlet. What couldn’t fae magic do? If she weren’t careful, she would lose her nerve.

“Do all fae wear spells like this?” she asked.

“Some do, others consider it a point of pride not to. Actively sustaining a number of spells is something we all learn to do, but not everyone has the capacity or inclination to keep them up for a long time, hence the enchantment of wearable objects.”

“And yet you wear glamour constantly,” Taisiya said.

“That’s different. It’s as natural as breathing. Well, except for altering our facial expressions. That can be difficult.”

Appraising her, he swept his eyes over her from top to bottom. She wore her makeup in the fashion favoured in Maat, a little heavier around the eyes by Lethe’s standards. Mereruka had done the same, with a thick swath of gold outlining his eyes. It made his violet lashes pop against the gold and emphasized the pale yellow of his eyes. It suited him in a way she feared it never would on her. He snapped his fingers.

“I knew I was forgetting something.”

“What would that be?” Taisiya asked, nerves making her feel ill.

Since Lethe had become little more than a memory, she’d felt her confidence plummet. Taisiya had done her best to get accustomed to the fae customs Mereruka had been teaching her, learning the steps of popular dances, memorizing the names and appearances of his siblings, the titles of Maat’s nobles, and going over their initial plans. He’d explained that Maat was a land of people who celebrated the beauty, sensuality and joy of living, and did so openly. Pleasure and affection were not meant to be hidden behind polite smiles, conservative dress or closed doors. It was also a land of wealth and plenty, where its citizens rarely went hungry, and where neither one’s gender nor one’s choice of bed partner was made an issue. Most importantly, the king or queen was expected to maintain order, justice and peace among its people. So long as the chaos of court intrigues stayed within the palace walls, the people couldn’t care less about who ultimately wore the crown. But woe to any who let their royal squabbles undermine the stability of the kingdom.

As the shapes in the distance became more distinct, she felt her insides become jelly. Vasilisa must’ve been feeling the same unease, hence her prickly behaviour. Taisiya was only half-convinced she wasn’t just some exotic pet to the long-lived, magically gifted fae. Despite her husband’s reassurance that he would share his years, she still wasn’t certain how she would find her place. Did she even want to live for centuries? Would doing so mean outliving every person she loved?

“Your hair,” he said. “We wear it down. Vasilisa?”

“On it,” Vasilisa said.

She disappeared into a shadow before returning with a brush. Pulling the pins from Taisiya’s hair, she brushed out the braids. No noblewoman wore their hair fully down in Lethe anymore, not unless they were commoners or hopelessly out of fashion. Such a style was more for noblemen these days. Nevertheless, Vasilisa brushed Taisiya’s hair until it was swept away from her face and fell in waves down her back, a few braids woven in to keep it neat. Mereruka nodded. Vasilisa quickly styled her own thick curls into a semblance of the same style.

“Good.” He summoned another box and opened it for her perusal. Nestled inside was an ornate tiara decorated in lotus blooms, with strings of glittering beads falling down from the band. As he placed it on her head, she knew only dread. Gods, what had she gotten herself into? It shrank down to fit her precisely. More fae magic. “You’ll have many tiaras like this. You’ll need to wear them when we’re out in public and when we attend important events.”

“And what about you?” she asked, raising her brow at his unadorned head.

He snapped his fingers and a curious crown perched upon it. Delicately detailed golden wings framed his face and attached themselves to a jewel-encrusted golden circlet at his hairline. A second set of golden wings fanned out and swept back at the sides of his head.

“Is there a significance to the wings?” she wondered.

Mereruka shrugged.

“King Khety has long favoured the style, given he owns a pair. The princes all wear circlets decorated with them.”

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