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Memnon watches me carefully. “I did.”

I think back to the threatening note left in my journal. “Those witches, the ones who were after me the night I saved the shifter girl—when you lent me your power—they are still out there.”

My mate’s expression darkens. “Not all of them.”

Right. Because between me, Nero, and Memnon, a few of them definitely kicked the bucket that night.

Okay, so at least he knows what I’m referring to.

“There’s also the murdered witches,” I say. “The ones whose deaths you framed me for.” I don’t mean for the bitterness to enter my voice, but there it is. And it’s going to be there for a long time, regardless of Memnon’s efforts to repay his debt. “I’mlinked to these two separate issues. And I know you know more about the murders than I do.”

He’s gone quiet, but his eyes are cutting like daggers.

“I want you to help me learn everything I can about both the murders and those spell circles, and I wantyouto help me stop them both.”

There’s a certain poetic justice to the idea of Memnon, who drove me into all this misfortune, now helping me resolve it.

Once I’ve said my piece, I wait. If Memnon were anyone else, I know he’d scoff at me. I’m no detective, and even if I were, these are no ordinary mysteries.

To Memnon, however, I’m more than just Selene, Henbane student with prior memory issues. I’m also Roxilana, queen of a nation of warriors, co-ruler of an empire. Inserting myself into deadly business comes naturally to me. Almost as naturally as it does to Memnon.

A bloodthirsty, pleased look spreads across his face. “I can do that, my queen.”

CHAPTER 10

He’s goingto help me. I don’t have to marry him, and he’s now going to help me.

I exhale a long, relieved breath.

I can tell he badly wants to touch me, hold me. There’s a hollowness in his eyes, and regret is starting to creep into the rest of his features.

Finally, I think he gets it.

He fucked up.

He really, really fucked up.

Memnon rises. He reaches out a hand for me. “I have a lot to tell you, and I think you’ll find your room a more comfortable place to hear it all.”

I take his hand and let him help me up, noting that he holds my hand for a second longer than necessary once I’m on my feet.

“Is it safe to talk about this stuff there?” I’ve been played too many times in the last few weeks not to be paranoid.

“No,” Memnon says.But fortunately for us,he continues down our bond,we can speak of it like this.

Fair point.

I stare at him a little longer, then reluctantly begin walking back toward my residence hall. Memnon sidles up next to me as we hit the tree line.

“I just want you to know that I actually want nothing to do with you ever again,” I say, “and I’m only doing this now?—”

“Because you want my help,” he finishes.

“Because I know you won’t leave me alone,” I correct, “and putting you to work seems better than letting you run wild.” It’s not entirely a lie.

Memnon stays quiet.

“You have nothing to say to that?” I ask as we weave between trees, our shoes crunching over pine needles.