piling up as of late. Mereruka reflected on this as yet another avenue supposedly closed to him. He took the rough papyrus note between his deep teal fingers and tore it, slowly, so that the messenger could understand his displeasure. His narrowed, pale yellow eyes met the widening dark brown of the bearer of the bad news. When the rending of the very last fibre ceased ringing in the silent room, the messenger cringed.
“Inform our Eternal Serenity the king that his message has been received and that I will cede my consort to him. Be sure to wish my brother the appropriate congratulations for acquiring yet another concubine.”
The royal messenger swallowed and bowed.
“W-would the prince like to write these words himself, or-”
Mereruka snarled, knocking over his chair as he stood, the beaded braids in his long violet hair snapping to and fro with the violent movement.
“I’ll excuse myself,” the messenger squeaked before he turned tail and ran.
“Tsk. Tsk. Such a temper.”
Mereruka raised a brow at the grey tabby cat that slunk around the corner to enter the room.
“Are we alone, Bas?”
The cat turned to smoke before his eyes, shooting up and reforming as a young, dark-haired man with triangular ears, a long tail and a perpetual smirk.
“As alone as any two people can be,” Bas replied.
Mereruka nodded towards the open door. Bas reached out a russet-brown hand and pressed the jewel by the doorway. A current of magic slid the heavy stone entrance shut. With only a small window, the room should have been dark, but the lofty ceiling was spelled to replicate the daytime sky. The light above radiated down on the decorative walls, glinting off the jewels embedded in scenes of waterfowl hiding amidst lush greenery and fish swimming through sparkling waters. A neat stack of papyrus scrolls sat by his desk in a rack, waiting for his attention, while many more were perched on racks against the far wall. Mereruka righted his chair, one inlaid with gems and made of precious wood—a rare commodity in arid Maat.
Bas grabbed the nearest chair and sat down with the indolent grace of youth. He trained his bright hazel green eyes on Mereruka, his ears twitching atop his head in anticipation as his sleek tail waved back and forth. Mereruka couldn’t resist the temptation to tease him. He sighed.
“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.
“Was there something else?” Mereruka raised a violet brow.
“You’ll know when you read the letter.”
Bas hissed at the soldier, whose eyes flicked over the cat before dismissing him. So few fae expected shifters in their animal forms to be part of a noble household. Foolish, but useful. But for a mere soldier to order a prince about… it made his skin crawl. Mereruka kept a bored look on his face as he unfurled the scroll. As he read it, he was glad that his teal colouring, unlike the many shades of clay that shapeshifters and witches were born with, allowed him to disguise the fact that all the blood had just drained from his face. In his hands were orders to make permanent ties with a land everyone—in the whole of Oblivion—had avoided for thousands of years. Apparently, the king had decided to rectify the slights of stealing his previous fiancées by ordering him to find a new one… among the inhabitants of the Cursed Continent.
“This is a joke in very poor taste, even for His Eternal Serenity,” Mereruka said as he placed the scroll on his desk.
Bas leapt up onto the desk and perused the letter as he pretended to clean his paw.
“I assure you, the king is quite serious. An envoy arrived a few days ago, requesting diplomatic and trade relations. A ship is already provisioned. You’re to act in the king’s stead.”
In that moment, everything Mereruka had ever built, schemed and secretly shed blood over crumbled around him. What did it matter that he’d accrued hundreds of extra years of life through meticulous bargaining if he was doomed to spend what remained of it far from Maat? What use were his connections, his carefully curated allies, his army of spies and soldiers, if none of them had warned him of, or were capable of saving him from, this fate? Mereruka eyed the soldier and considered his limited options. Killing the messenger was the obvious ploy, but if he’d barged his way into Mereruka’s palace, there was no doubt a small army awaiting such a response. Open conflict with the royal guard, while unprepared? Suicide. Mereruka had been outplayed. He could only hope he would have the chance to repay the favour.
“Is this one of those chances? Because it looks a lot like a death sentence,” Bas drawled, using mind-speak to question Mereruka without the soldier knowing.
Bas was not wrong. It seemed the inhabitants of the Cursed Continent were not content to keep their curses and doom to themselves. Their arrival in Maat had gone unnoticed by Mereruka’s spies, and Khety had seized the opportunity they represented too swiftly for the prince to counter. His hands curled into fists as he stood. For now, he had no choice but to submit.
“Lead the way, then.”
As he followed the soldier through the open, columned halls of his palace, Mereruka swore that if he returned from this voyage alive, he would no longer be content with waiting another century to take the throne for himself. May the forgotten gods have mercy on the king of Maat, for Mereruka would have none.