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Pain is dulling your memory, my love.

My heart pangs at the endearment.Don’t call me that.

Fine,he says.Then how about my fierce queen, my exquisite mate, mother of my future children.

I grimace.Definitely not that last one.Need to get my hands on some contraceptive potion to make it so.

You’re giving me so much ammunition to use against you the next time I’m teasing your pussy.

Memnon, I say, horrified. I know he’s saying this to distract me from the pain, but crap, it’s working a little too well.You wouldn’tdareuse that against me.

I feel his amusement, though it’s tinged with worry.If only I were an honorable man…

Memnon!

In the distance, another engine rumbles on the road. It sounds like it’s moving slowly, and instead of zooming by the grassy hill I’m on, it slows, then idles.

I hear a door creak open, then the heavy tread of feet against the roadside gravel.

Is that you, Memnon?

I’m not there yet.

Fuck.

Someone is,I say.

And the odds of them being a good Samaritan are vanishingly small.

On the other end of the bond, I feel Memnon’s alarm. Then it’s gone, pulled back so quickly that the sorcerer must be deliberately shielding it from me.

Do you have any weapons on you?he asks. This is something he used to make sure Roxilana had on her.

No, I say softly.

He shields me from whatever reaction he has to that news.

Meanwhile, the stranger below me is climbing up the mountainous incline, wild grass crunching beneath their shoes.

Call on your magic again,Memnon orders me, sounding like the warlord he once was. While there’s no compulsion in his voice, I’m bending to the order without question.

I reach for my power, even as those footsteps draw near. It’s there, swirling beneath my skin, but I am utterly disconnected from it. And despite magic being semi-sentient, it’s showed no interest in healing me all on its own.

It’s still not working,I say to Memnon. I try to suppress my growing panic.

Hold fast, Empress. I’m coming.

There is nothing I can dobuthold fast. I have no usable magic, no weapon, and no mobility.

Wait—

I wiggle my fingers and test my arms. They both feel pretty banged up, but my right arm can move okay if I hold the rest of my body very still.

Cautiously, I grope around for anything I might use to defend myself with. Even the slight movements of my arm tug at my side, and I have to bite my lower lip to smother a cry. But my fingers brush a rock partially embedded in the soil. I dig my nails into the earth to work it free.

The action causes the grass to rustle, and I have no magic to mask the sound. I almost give up then in favor of staying quiet and still.

If they’ve come this far for you, they’re going to find you,I remind myself.