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The moment our blood touches, our powers hiss to life, streaming out from between our clasped hands and swirling together around us.

I drop Memnon’s blade as his magic enters me through my wound and makes its way up my arm. It reaches my chest, and I suck in a breath as his power takes root beneath my ribs.

As soon as the magic settles, Memnon releases another wave of power, and I feel the cut on my palm seal itself up.

I release his hand, running my fingers over my newly repaired skin, smearing a little of the residual blood.

Memnon sits back on his haunches, resting his forearms on his knees. He watches me quietly for several seconds.

I can’t look at him. I now control a man—my own soul mate. Shame blooms in me. I shouldn’t have agreed to this.

“Test it out, Empress,” he says softly. “Compel me to do your bidding.”

My dread rises. This sort of bond is what I fought against only two weeks ago. It was the fate I saved the shifter girl from.

Yet this is also what Memnon freely offered. And it is what I wanted.

Finally, I look at Memnon, ignoring the sad, wondrous way he appraises me.

“Stab me.” I say the words softly, casually. No magic accompanies them, and a part of me is sure the command won’t work.

Memnon blanches. “Selene,” he protests. But already his hand reaches for his discarded dagger.

Dimly, I’m aware of my magic forcing him through the movements, but I cannot see the plumes of it at work. It’s all happening within him.

I lift my chin. “Right through the heart.”

“No.” But even as he speaks, his hand curls around the hilt of the blade, and his body is angling toward me. Panic clouds his eyes, and I can feel an echo of it through our connection.

One of his hands braces me by the back of the neck while his other arm draws back.

For an instant, that arm trembles. “Please,” he begs.

Then he lunges at me, his arm driving forward, the dagger aimed right for my heart.

“Stop.”

Memnon’s blade freezes inches from my chest. He’s breathing hard, and his arms are shaking.

I don’t realize until then that I’m shaking as well. I don’t think I fully believed that the binding spell worked until that moment.

“Put the blade away,” I say softly. “You won’t be stabbing me tonight—or any other night.”

Oh Goddess, I’ve traded my memory loss for a new complication: needing to be precise with my words.

Memnon banishes the blood from his blade, then sheathes it, his breath a little ragged.

“I don’t want to marry you,” I say. My whole body still aches from the unfulfilled vow.

The sorcerer hesitates. When he finally looks up, his eyes are conflicted. “It’s an unbreakable oath,est amage.”

“You don’t need to keep calling me that.”

His jaw clenches. “Then command me to stop.”

The two of us stare each other down.

I blow out a breath. “Fine, if I cannot undo the oath, then we’re going to work with that other part of the vow.”