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Just as quickly as it appears, the image is gone.

“Est amage?” Memnon says.My queen.

Yes. His queen.

Wait,no.

“Are you ready?” he asks, furrowing his brow.

I swallow, then nod, facing the archway.

I feel Memnon’s eyes on me for a moment longer before he too turns his attention to the opening.

A second later, his magic blooms to life, the dark blue plumes of it rolling off his body.

“From the seed of the air and the womb of the earth, I call forth creation. Fashion a wall to match those that surround it,” Memnon says, reverting to his mother tongue.

I feel our magic mixing where our hands touch. Memnon pulls on it, drawing my power into him.

I gasp at the sensation. Like he mentioned earlier, I can feel himinme, his own essence grasping mine, twisting my magic around his own. It leaves me breathless.

He continues.“Create an illusion made real to all who look upon it and all who touch it. Only we, your creators, shall hold the power to bring down such an illusion. By our command at the wordreveal, you shall fall away.”

Our joined magic swirls together, making a deep purple color, one you might see at the end of sunset. It’s coalescing in front of us, fitting itself to the archway then smoothing out. The smoky appearance of our power solidifies and the color of it darkens.

“And at our command,conceal, you shall return to your false form.”

Need to write these words down—hell, I need to write this wholeexperiencedown—before I forget.

“Mask all traces of this spell so they blend in with those around us.”

The words Memnon’s using are simple enough, but the amount of power and magical precision it takes to actually execute any of this is astronomical.

As more of my magic seeps out and joins with Memnon’s, I stare in awe. Memnon is a master at what he does, as talented as he is thorough and devious.

The shimmering residue left behind in the spell’s wake takes on the same pale sheen that matches the other wards and enchantments placed around the room. If I stared really, really hard, I’d see that the edges of it are laced a dusky deep purple—because not even the best spells can completely override their innate truth.

But this one comes pretty damn close.

With Memnon’s final words, the last of our magic leaves us, and the wall solidifies. I step forward and run my hand over it. It feels and looks…exactly as it should. Solid. Mundane. Seamless. It’s just one long, uninterrupted surface.

“Reveal,” I say in Sarmatian.

The wall falls away, and my hand slips forward through empty air. I can see the spiral staircase ahead of us once more.

I step back.“Conceal.”

All at once, the open doorway becomes a wall again.

A startled little laugh escapes me because I helpedmakethis.

I feel Memnon’s eyes on my face, and when I glance at him, his own features are full of longing.

“That laugh…” he says reverently. Then his expression grows determined.

I clear my throat, trying to break the strange moment. “What we did probably breaks a law or three,” I say. I mean, I don’tknowthat, but this feels naughty enough for it to be a crime.

“You have forgotten how power works, little witch. It is one of the few things time hasn’t changed.” He smirks at me, the dim light in the room exaggerating his scar. “Modern people act like they’ve evolved into something…palatable. They pretend they don’t hunger for blood and destruction, and they almost have themselves fooled.” The shadows in the room have exaggerated Memnon’s features, turning him sinister.