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You shall do to those you love what you have tried to do to my loved ones. And then you will die…I shiver at the memory as I stare at him.

Memnon must feel eyes on him because he turns his horse, then stills when he catches sight of me and his mother.

My queen?he says down our bond.Is that you?Hope and joy surge across our bond.

If I had known you would be bare chested like this, I respond, my levity a little forced,I would’ve come out here much, much sooner.

I feel his smile, and then he’s charging forward on his steed, riding as swiftly as his horse will carry him.

“Well, that didn’t take him long,” Tamara says, smirking a little. She turns her horse around and begins to head back the way we came. Ferox, the traitor, begins to slink away alongside her.

“Wait, you’re not staying?” I call out. My desire to follow both her and my panther rises again.

She laughs. “You don’t need me to learn how to fight. Everyone out on this field is more than capable of teaching you—starting with your husband.”

I stare after her and Ferox, my stomach knotting, even as Memnon closes in on us.

“Oh, one last thing,” Tamara says, pausing. She glances over at me in such a casual, measured way that I know this moment was premeditated just as many others have been. “If anyone asks, this wasyouridea, and you will train like this every day from this moment on,” she commands me. “That ismyorder toyou.”

I feel myself pale.

“Make yourself strong, dear daughter, so that no one can hurt you. Because you may not yet realize this, but every single life here depends on you. Not your husband,you.”

I don’t exactly understand the deeper meaning beneath her words, only that the responsibility she’s placing on me is terrifying. Now I better grasp why Memnon never spoke of being king. Because even when he’s not fighting or strategizing, leading or listening to his people’s complaints, there is theconstant, relentless pressure to be everything for everyone. And whether Tamara is aware of my own conflicted feelings, she’s forcing me to consider my role.

She nudges her horse and trots away from me, Ferox trailing behind her, just as Memnon closes in.

“What are you doing out here?” Memnon asks when he reaches me.

“I…” I can still get out of this. An excuse forms on the tip of my tongue. I swallow it down. “I wanted to train with you.” I force out the next bit. “Every day, if possible.”

Memnon’s face breaks out into a smile. “Truly?”

No.

“Yes.” I stop myself from looking over my shoulder at his mother’s retreating form. “Absolutely.”

“All right. Then grab your bow and let’s begin.”

It’s like we’re traveling together all over again. The weapon, the practice, the instructor. Memnon has me standing stationary, bow in hand, an arrow nocked.

“Widen your legs,” he instructs, tapping his booted foot against my inner leg. “And I want your upper body more upright.”

He leans over me and points in the distance to a life-sized straw dummy. “We’re going to aim for that.”

He steps in closer, moving to my back, and I can feel the warm press of his chest against me. He smells of sweat, leather, and horsehair. It shouldn’t be nearly as appealing to me as it is. So much so that my hand slips on the bow and the arrow flies, veering wildly off course.

Memnon gives my backside a slap. “Don’t distract yourself.”

“Then stop rubbing your sweaty chest all over me.”

He pulls me against him. “Straighten your form,” he says again.

Now you’re definitely just doing this to mess with me, I complain.

“You’re going to have a lot worse distractions on the battlefield,” he says, annoyingly unruffled. “Now, grab another arrow and let’s try this again.”

Grumbling under my breath, I pull another one out and nock it.