Page 24 of Conspirators' Kingdom

It didn’t tell him much of use. He wanted to curse.

“Alright, look in on Djadty and the others. Any warning of what’s to come would be a great help.”

“I want extra compensation for this. I’ll be up all night at this rate,” Bas complained.

Mereruka raised his violet brow.

“Shall I remind you how difficult you were to house-train as a kitten? How many priceless pieces of imported cedar furniture you clawed to ribbons?”

“No,” Bas mumbled, chagrined.

“Then go. And be careful.”

Bas rolled his eyes.

“I’m always careful.”

He shifted and was gone a moment later. Mereruka had nothing to do but wait.

Dawn greeted Mereruka unexpectedly. He’d tried to stay awake the night before, but he’d fallen asleep waiting for Bas to return, his jewellery and clothes leaving creases in his skin and a kink in his lower back.

“Shit.”

“Prince Mereruka? I’ve come to escort you to the training grounds.”

A polite knocking on his door signalled the beginning of his ordeal. Without any information from Bas, he would need to keep a clear, level head.

Mereruka soon found himself standing in fae armour inspecting the soldiers who had volunteered to participate in the sparring. It was mutually agreed upon that only those who could tolerate fae presence should participate. Mages of all kinds were forced to excuse themselves, and in the end, only a few remained.

Domina Emerald had been overly modest about her plans, for arranged around the sparring ring were intricate, earthen stands, with green, gold and deep red banners looped around the colonnades, turning the whole of it into an arena. There were even servants carrying trays of food and pitchers of wine. It was quite the feat of engineering—social and structural. The emperor and empress had decided to attend, along with most of the fae and a number of highly placed nobles. Taisiya and her sisters were scattered throughout, while those who had an aversion to his kind were seated furthest from the centre of the action and the seats that held his people.

Chloe softened out the creases in her lively mint dress, one blending the styles of Maat and Lethe, and stood to announce the beginning of the event. Mereruka and the others expected to fight stood in the centre of the ring.

“I would like to thank our generous hosts, Emperor Belisarius and Empress Selene, for agreeing to allow this bit of sport, and for our new friends from Maat for humouring us by participating. So that nothing gets too out of hand, I’d like to ask that no magic be performed during the matches.”

Mereruka smiled and bowed in acquiescence.

“Are there any other handicaps you would like to insist on?” Djadty asked.

“I don’t believe so, unless Your Majesties have anything to add?”

The imperial couple waved them all on.

“Excellent!”

Djadty touched the rune hidden at the base of his skull. His second set of arms sprouted from his back. A few of the fae in attendance hissed while the mages were caught between morbid shock and confusion at the fae reaction. Mereruka kept his face neutral.

Under different circumstances, Mereruka might have pitied the soldier, a victim of high-born fae prejudice against the use of runes and tattoos. It was a foolish one at that, and borne from the snobbery that the bodies of royalty, nobles and those who associated with them must be free of the marks of mercenaries and low-born malefactors who had failed to master high magics. Djadty was one of the few such individuals allowed to walk the halls of the king’s palaces so marked, and only because he was devoted to Khety.

Djadty flexed his four arms and tossed his swords between his hands.

“If this is to be a true competition, there should be a prize! Perhaps our Prince of Dreams will agree to grant a wish to the ultimate winner of the sparring matches.”

What in the hells was this about? Was this the trap?

“And yet I am a participant. Who is to grant me a boon if I win?” Mereruka asked.

Djadty shrugged.

---