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He will sooner die than touch you, I vow.

Zoutoula must notice me bristling because his gaze swings to me. His features shift, just a little. There’s still plenty of hatred there, but there’s also a calculated gleam in his eye as his gaze touches on my diadem, then my face, and I know he’s plotting some grisly death for me. That knowledge tastes like iron on my tongue, and I’m absurdly grateful for the numerous wards Memnon placed on me before we left camp.

Zoutoula says, “It was a mistake to bring your pretty wife to battle. If she lives by the end of it, she?—”

There’s a flash of Memnon’s magic, then a choked noise from the Dacian king. His eyes grow wide, and a line of blood seeps from his throat like a macabre necklace. Then his head slides one way and his body another, the two toppling to the ground and causing his horse to rear up.

I glance wildly from the grotesque remains to Memnon, whose hair has lifted and whose eyes already glow.

One day, people will learn not to threaten you in front of me, he says, his magic deepening his voice.

Before I can even fathom a response, he adds,Ready yourself. It’s time to fight, my queen.

Already, dozens of arrows from distant Dacian archers are releasing, the group of them arcing across the field right for us.

I lift a hand, my eyes fixed on the projectiles. “Away,” I incant.

A gust of my magic cuts across the grass, blowing the arrows far off course.

Well done, Memnon says, the glow of his eyes dimming.

Memnon pulls his sword from his sheath and holds it high, shouting a war cry, then charges forward. At my back, I can hear Sarmatians bellowing and howling. Though this is my first planned battle, muscle memory from training has me urging my horse forward into a gallop.

I slip down my bond with my panther.Watch your step, Ferox, and stay to the edges of battle so you don’t get trampled.

Even draped in my wards, I worry about my big cat’s safety.

My pulse races as I return to my own head. The massive Dacian army charges at us, the distance between us closing alarmingly fast.

My hands itch to reach for my bow and arrow, but I hold myself back.

I’m here to protect Memnon—and Ferox. Katiari too. I don’t need to attack or kill to achieve that.

Only, more arrows rain down on me and the warriors at my back, and though my wards hold fast, several pelt me hard enough to throw my body sideways.

I’ve barely righted myself when I hit the front line of mounted Dacians.

War cries fill the air and spears lunge at me. One connects with my shoulder, and I scream as the jarring impact nearly topples me from my steed.

More blades and hands. This is a nightmare, one I cannot wake from—and then I break through the back of the massive horde.

I completed my first pass through the ranks of enemy warriors.

I mean to keep that thought to myself, but across our bond, I feel Memnon’s exaltation.Well done, my queen!

I smile at his praise and turn my horse around. My eyes search him out. I spot Memnon ahead of me, his horse racing back the way we came. He’s already looking at me, grinning, rather than facing our foes.

Don’t let me distract you, I say, my earlier fear rising once more.

Impossible not to be distracted when you’re so beguiling, he responds.

Is Memnon…flirting with me? On the battlefield, surrounded by enemies?

Yes. Tell me you like it.

I knock away another round of arrows.

Gods, please stop.