that when his wife was working, he should either make himself useful or scarce. When he’d come into the office he’d set up for her personal use, he’d found her buried under rolls of papyrus, dictating letters, commanding a small army of servants and duplicating documents being read aloud into Lethe’s script. At the mention of another appointment, he’d feared for his own health and had taken to commissioning her barge himself. Taisiya spent the morning exhausting herself with her many tasks. By the time the sun had reached its zenith, she had already chosen the staff for her soon-to-be palace. It was only then, once his business was complete, that he dared interrupt her.
“Perhaps a refreshing meal in the shade would rejuvenate you,” he said as he kissed her cheek.
He offered his hand and she reluctantly put down her reed, wiping the traces of ink from her fingers on a towel provided by one of the servants. Though by now all the palace staff knew the mage language and she had several personal scribes, not a one knew how to write in her language. He would have to see to it that one of the scribes was trained to read and write the mage script.
“That does sound good.” She sighed and took his proffered hand.
Just as he was leading her to the courtyard where a hearty meal had been laid out, Qar appeared, his expression grim and his hippo ears twitching angrily.
“Forgive me, Your Tranquility, but I couldn’t stop her.”
Her? Mereruka’s sigh was drowned out by the booming echo of the doors of the inner palace being flung open with a powerful, hooved kick.
“Gods below, you’re actually not dead!”
Mereruka raised a violet brow at his elder sister, Itet. Her blue and gold soldier’s tunic complimented her shocked blue eyes. Black hair fell down her back in thick braids, the teeth and claws of fallen foes woven in as grim decoration, swinging with her strides and noisily knocking against each other. No crown sat upon her head, but in Maat she didn’t need it. Itet’s reputation preceded her. Oversized skein in her lime green hand, she took a swig. Full of alcohol, no doubt. As she raced forward, with no concern for personal space, she inspected him all over, her horns nearly impaling his chin.
“Shockingly, neither are you,” Mereruka replied.
Her bawdy laugh was rich and unrestrained. She circled Taisiya with great interest.
“Princess Consort Taisiya, this is my sister, Itet,” Mereruka said by way of introductions.
Taisiya sized her up, her mask firmly in place, standing still as a statue while his sister gawked.
“You look like a witch,” Itet accused.
“Better a witch than a goat,” Taisiya retorted, her eyes lingering tellingly on Itet’s horns and hooves.
“Ooh! A feisty one! We should go drinking together.” Itet smiled.
Mereruka stepped between them, narrowing his eyes at Itet.
“Don’t agree to that. What she calls drinking, any sane man calls a death sport,” Mereruka warned. When he’d been younger, Itet had often cajoled him into drinking with her. It had never once ended with anything other than his own misery. Taisiya would be lucky to walk away with a hangover if he let Itet have her way.
“Just because you can’t hold your liquor…” Itet rolled her eyes. “Anyway, come meet my twin, Inkaef.” Itet slipped around him and took Taisiya’s hand, propelling her towards Inkaef before Mereruka could snatch her back. She was lightning fast on her hooves when she wanted to be, no matter her level of inebriation.
Inkaef was busy trying to mollify Mereruka’s guards in the outer palace. When he spotted Itet with Taisiya in tow, he cringed, running a lime green hand through black hair, amber eyes flat with resignation. If a beleaguered sigh could be embodied, Inkaef was it.
Mereruka followed closely, noting his brother’s wide eyes as their trio approached him. Where Itet was muscular, Inkaef was soft. The life of a courtier was as perilous for one’s head as it was for one’s waistline. Where Itet was battle-hardened and bold as brass, her twin had survived through inoffensiveness, and they both dealt with their wilier political foes by drinking them under the table.
“Inky, look! He’s not a revenant after all. You owe me a dozen horses!” Itet boasted.
Inkaef at least had the decency to look embarrassed by the wager.
“Mereruka.” Inkaef nodded.
“Inkaef,” Mereruka replied.
They’d long ago decided that they had so little in common, there was no point in making small talk neither would actually care for. Mereruka only wished he could have so cordial a non-relationship with his other brothers.
“What’s your name?” Inkaef politely inquired.
“Taisiya,” she replied.
“Pleased to meet you. I am Prince Inkaef. I assume you are my brother’s wife?”
“I am.”
“I apologise for Itet’s… enthusiasm. When she heard rumours of Mereruka’s return, she needed to see for herself,” Inkaef explained.
“As you can see, I am alive and well,” Mereruka said.
He folded his arms and gave Itet a hard stare. Inkaef, at least, could read between the lines and had the grace to know an unannounced visit was hardly polite. Itet, however, was never one to care for things such as decorum or manners. She studiously ignored Mereruka, swinging an arm around Taisiya’s shoulders.
“In case you were wondering, I’m the only royal in Maat who has any fun. I don’t usually bother with going to court, except Khety has insisted we join him once the inundation starts.” Her aggrieved eye roll said it all. “Breaking skulls on the border is more my thing. When you get bored of fancy parties, I’ll take you on a proper hunt. You can hunt, can’t you?” Itet asked.
Taisiya looked Itet up and down, the wheels turning in her head. She smiled.
“Are you very fond of that bracelet?” Taisiya asked.
“Eh?” Itet peered at her wrist, confused. “Not really.”
“Throw it up high, would you?” Taisiya said as she pulled away from their party.
Mereruka grinned as Itet threw it. She’d read his sister well. A small bolt of lightning shot out from her fingertip, shattering the bracelet and gaining the attention of all nearby as the crackling echoed out in the yard between inner and outer palaces. Itet’s blue eyes were wide as she whooped with excitement.
“Does that answer your question?” Taisiya smiled politely.
“I have an idea. Divorce him, marry me.” Itet pointed at Mereruka and then herself. “We could have so much fun!” She squealed with delight as Inkaef watched, shaking his head with a chagrined look.
Before Taisiya could answer, Mereruka stepped forward, reclaiming his wife’s hand.
“She’s not a shiny new toy for you to chew on, Itet. Now, trot along. I think you’ve had enough fun for today.” Mereruka tilted his head to indicate the exit to his palace.
Itet stuck her tongue out.
“You’re boring.”
“And you’re not yet drunk enough to be funny,” Mereruka retorted.
“Too true,” she sighed. “Alright, fine, we’ll see you at court. Just so you know, Khety’s been a real royal prick lately. His feathers got ruffled when rumours started flying about him being cursed for sending you away.” Itet winked, nudging Mereruka with an elbow.
Mereruka sighed as Inkaef choked on a cough and looked around to see who might have heard his sister’s incautious pun. That Khety had a set of hawk-like wings was well known.
“Your humour always did leave something to be desired,” Mereruka replied.
“I think we’ve taken up more than enough of your time, wouldn’t you say, Itet?” Inkaef did his best to physically steer Itet away.
“Until next time, Itet, Inkaef.” Taisiya nodded her head.
As they walked away, Mereruka leaned down to whisper in her ear.
“Well played.”
“Thank you. Itet does seem to be a handful,” Taisiya remarked dryly.
Mereruka chuckled and led Taisiya back into the protected peacefulness of the inner palace.
“I think that’s the kindest thing anyone could say of her, barbaric little imp that she is.”
“Inkaef seems… fine.”
Mereruka laughed loudly at that.
“Trust me, he’s the least bothersome of all my brothers. If only they could all be so bland and inoffensive.”
“But then, it wouldn’t be half as satisfying when we crush them underfoot, would it?” Taisiya asked with a grin.
“No, it wouldn’t.” Mereruka smiled.