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“I’m fine.”

The sorcerer gives a malevolent laugh. “I’m understanding that phrase better and better every time you use it.”

I give him a weary look. “I just want a hot shower.”

“You’ll likely pass out from the heat,” he says, looking apologetic.

“Then I’ll have a hot bath,” I say.

“You might still pass out.”

I want to growl my frustration. “Then come in with me and make sure I don’t.”

Memnon’s eyes widen.

Exhausted though I am, I nearly laugh. For a scheming sorcerer, he looks awfully surprised.

That’s a command, I add. My skin itches with the feel of dirt and dried blood, and now that I’ve seen the dark magic ooze out of me, I need to scrub away the memory of it too.

“All right, Empress,” he says, his expression unreadable.

Memnon helps me down the hallway and into his bathroom. I hadn’t realized how fatigued I was, but I need the help. Even with his arm around me, I’m still breathing heavy by the time the two of us get there.

“Shower or bath?” he asks, still holding me.

Both the tub and the glass shower stall could easily fit us both.

“Which would be easier for you?”

He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter what I want. Shower or bath?”

“I like showers better?—”

Memnon’s magic slips past the glass door of the shower and turns the spigot on.

“—but I’m not sure how long I want to stand,” I confess.

“Then you can sit in the shower, or I can hold you.”

I glance up at him, feeling unusually vulnerable. I don’t know why. Memnon has fought alongside me, he’s been inside me, he’s seen me naked and tended to me. None of it is new. No part ofusis new.

“Okay,” I agree.

Memnon’s blue magic encircles us, peeling away our ruined clothes. I hear my phone thump to the ground, along with the soft sounds of my shredded jeans and shirt.

“Wait,” I say, bending down to grab the phone while several of Memnon’s daggers clatter to the ground alongside his clothes.

I straighten and hastily text my momI’m alivebefore dropping the device back to the tiled floor. I don’t need her fretting about me on top of everything else right now.

The sorcerer’s magic pulls the shower door open, and he helps me in. Immediately the shower spray rinses away the most obvious grime that’s on me, and Goddess but does it feel good. Under the heat of the spray, my muscles loosen.

I swivel around, leaning against the stone wall of the shower stall, and take in Memnon. He stands close, ready to catch me if I fall. The water has already hit his hair and speckled his face. Rivulets of it trail down his sculpted chest, and my eyes follow their path, taking in the tattoos that I used to doodle into my notebooks—bits of him that my mind never forgot.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he breathes, grabbing a nearby bar of soap and rolling it between his hands.

“Like what?” I say dazedly, leaning more heavily against the wall.

“Like you want a repeat of last night.”