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I tap the top of my pen against the paper.

In the past, Memnon was just as keen to discover these witches as I was. I don’t think his interest had anything to do with revenge. Even then in the depths of his anger, I believe he still sought to protect me. I’m nearly positive he would be willing to get his hands dirty on my behalf once more if I asked.

But he might simply use this request as leverage to get something else out of me. The thought leaves me cold.

No, that will not happen. I won’t let it.

My mind strays back to the last of my ancient memories, the truly painful ones, and I press my lips together.

I have leverage of my own.

Memnon,I reach out down our bond.

I feel warmth from his end of the magical cord. I’m sure he thinks this is me caving to his wishes.

Before he has a chance to speak, I say,Meet me in the Slain Maiden’s Meadow in an hour. I…I close my eyes, forcing the next part out.I need your help.

CHAPTER 5

The achein my bones is getting worse.

Earlier, I assumed it was exhaustion and the aftereffects of overdrawing my power. I assumed the spells Memnon cast to remove my pain wore off. I assumed, I assumed, I assumed.

But I was wrong.

This is what Memnon had been hinting at when he wanted me to come to him.

I’m starting to feel the effects of the unbreakable oath.

I blow out a breath as I weave my way between the massive evergreen trees, dread gathering in my stomach. I knew there were consequences to not upholding a magical oath. I didn’t realize they made you feel like shit.

I don’t know how much longer I will be able to ignore the vow before I end up begging the sorcerer to marry me, just to ease the pain.

Between the boughs of the trees ahead of me, I catch sight of Slain Maiden’s Meadow. The last time I came here, I wasn’t yet a student. The field looks lovelier now, in the dying light, the sunset painting the dead grass golden.

And there, in the middle of the field, my soul mate waits, his back to me.

Memnon is the sound of straining leather. He’s the smell of horse-sweat, grass, and man. He’s sun-warmed skin and wind-tousled hair. He’s a part of me just as much as Roxilana is, and no amount of magic or anger can change that.

As though sensing my gaze on him, he turns, his eyes lighting when they meet mine.

Memnon kisses me fiercely as he sinks into me. There’s only me, him, the endless grasslands around us, and the heavens above us.

“I am yours forever,” he breathes against my lips. He pulls away to search my gaze, his features bathed in the soft orange glow from my magic. “Forever.”

Can he feel it? The past pressing on us like it has a presence of its own? Does it close up his throat like it does mine? Or am I the only one drowning in these memories?

“Little witch,” he says, watching me as I cross the last of the distance between us. “You beckoned.”

A shiver courses down my back at the low, honeyed sound of his voice.

“We need to talk,” I say, switching to Sarmatian. Out here in these woods, we have more seclusion than my residence hall, but anyone could be listening.

I let my magic pour out of me. The pale orange glow wraps around us like a blanket, forming a magical barrier to block out sound. I don’t incant the spell, but it’s there nonetheless, woven into my magic through my intent alone.

Memnon reaches out, stroking my power like it’s a cat. “I’m listening,” he says, his eyes flicking from my magic to me.

“When the curse was lifted, did you see into my past?” I ask.