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After letting out a relieved breath, I try not to hustle too quickly back to the stairs, even though I’m not fooling either of us.

“Why did you want to come down here?” I ask as I head up the spiral staircase.

“Your enemies are my own,” Memnon replies. “Some have been dealt with”—that is a terrifying thing to hear—“and some have not.Thoseare the ones I want to understand.”

I take a deep breath. “You keep saying I have enemies, but I’ve never done anything bad in my life.”Besides waking you up…

“Tell me,est amage, how did you learn of this spell circle?” he asks at my back.

This…this is another frightening detail I haven’t spent much time focusing on. “A coven sister let me know about it.”

“How did she let you know of it?”

I try to focus on that, and the memory feels as though it’s just within grasp, but then—

“I can’t remember. All I know is that her name is Kasey, and she lives in my house.”

“Kasey.”He tests her name on his lips. “She lives in this house?”

I swallow. “Yeah.”

There’s a long ominous silence following that. I don’t really want to know what Memnon’s thinking.

“She brought you to the spell circle?” he asks as I step off the stairs.

“Yeah,” I say again, heading back over to the Ritual Room. It looks especially dark from this angle.

“Did she bring anyone else along?” Memnon asks at my back.

I turn to him. “No.”

“So you were singled out,” he says, his expression severe. “Someone wanted you andspecificallyyou to be at that circle last night. That means you do have enemies, Selene. You just don’t know who they are—yet. But they are clearly aware of you.”

Goose bumps burst to life along my skin.

Memnon crosses into the Ritual Room and stops at my side. “You have worried enough on this for now, little witch. Stay guarded, but let me shoulder the burden.”

That sounds…really nice.

There’s that word again.Nice.Memnon is notnice. It’s not in his nature. Especially not to me, regardless of his pretty words about being mates.

“I will find who thought to hurt you,” he continues, “and they willsufferfor it.”

“Please don’t hurt anyone,” I say.

He flashes me an amused look. “Have the years softened you, my queen?”

“I’m not your queen,” I say.

He gives me another look like I’m precious, then turns his attention to the archway. “Someone thought to control who can sneak unnoticed into and out of your home. Why don’t we turn their little trick back on them?” Memnon says to me, a calculated gleam in his eye.

He holds out his hand to me, palm up. It’s an open invitation to spellcast with this man.

I’ve used his power and fought it too. I’ve never deliberately mixed mine with it. I find that more than desiring safety and revenge, I’m eager to feel Memnon’s magic meld with mine.

I take his hand, facing the opening once more. Beneath my palm, my magic stirs to life. I’m still recovering from the power drain last night, but at the press of Memnon’s hand against mine, it wakes, twining around his fingers and wrist like a lover’s caress.

The sorcerer glances at our joined hands, his features pleased. His eyes rise and lock with mine, and for a moment, I’m somewhere else, somewhere where endless blue sky meets endless fields of wheat. Memnon wears that scale armor, his hair blowing in the breeze.