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“But,est amage,” he continues, “there is only one law humanseverfollow: might makes right. We were strong enough to take this doorway, so now it is ours.”

“That’s not how the world works,” I argue.

His smoky-brown eyes glint. “Careful now, Selene. You’re thinking like an idealist. Bad men use such thoughts for their own gain.”

Memnon closes the last of the distance between us. Even the way he moves is confident. And why wouldn’t he be confident? He is physically powerful, wickedly intelligent, and has enough magic to wipe out a city. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who possesses so much strength.

He searches my face again, then peers into my eyes.

“Strange,” he murmurs curiously.

“What is strange?” I ask, distracted by how alluring he is. Even now, heat pools in me.

“Your memory and my legacy are both gone,” he muses. “Mine has been cast from the record, but it still lingers in my mind, while yours has been cast from your mind but still lingers in the record…”

My brows pinch together as his eyes grow distant.

“Damnatio memoriae,” he says, reaching out and stroking my cheek with his knuckles. “That’s the curse you would’ve used…”

Curse?

“I’ve never cursed another person in my entire life,” I say, indignant.

“That you can remember,” he tacks on, his knuckles still warm against my skin.

I narrow my gaze at him.

“But youcannotremember,” he says again, his gaze far away.

All at once those eyes sharpen as some realization snaps into place.

His hand drops from my cheek. “The Law of Three,” he says, like it’s all so obvious. “The Witch’s Law.”

I know what he’s speaking of—every witch does. It’s our equivalent of the Golden Rule. The Law of Three is the principle that rules all spellwork. It states that any magic you perform—good or bad—will return to you threefold.

His gaze is heavy on mine. “Est amage, you cursed yourself.”

CHAPTER34

As soon aswe return to my room, I grab a pen and snatch up my notebook.

There are several things I need to remember. I rush to write them all down, starting with the Sarmatian command words I’ll need to invoke to open and close the doorway, then ending withdamnatio memoriaeand the Law of Three.

Ever since Memnon uttered these last two concepts, he’s been in a peculiar mood—half-broody, half-contemplative.

The idea that I’m some washed-up ex-lover who went to all this trouble…it’s the sort of story you spin to make some ridiculous worldview make sense.

That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t look into it.

I put my pen down and turn to the man himself. Memnon’s taken a seat at the chair by my bedside, and he’s studying the dozens of notebooks I’ve shelved on my bookcase.

I don’t know why he hasn’t left me yet. I expected him to. What I wasn’t expecting was to enjoy his company. He’s weird and edgy and just…a lot all at once, but I don’t really want to part ways with him.

His attention moves from the notebooks to the sticky notes that pepper my belongings—they’re on the covers of my textbooks, one is on my lampshade, another on my desk, and still another on the back of my door. I know that last one is a reminder to check that I’ve packed my notebook for the day.

Memnon taps on the chair’s armrest and jiggles his leg impatiently.

“Stop it,” I say.