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I feel a brush of power in my hair, then around my neck like a touch. Then between my breasts.

I sense Memnon, right at our backs, though I neither saw nor heard him approach.

“It’s been a bit,” he says softly. Without further preamble, he lifts me from where I sit and hoists me over his shoulder. Fellow warriors whistle and hoot at the action.

Memnon, I chastise.

He gives my backside a slap.No more back talk from you, he says.

I yelp, my ire rising.I swear, if I had a weapon in hand, I would use it, I say.

Would you?He sounds delightfully curious, damn him.Shame that you don’t.

It is.

Tonight, he says, crossing the tent,once I lay you out on our bed, you’ll spread your pussy for me so I can taste it, and then you’ll take me any way I please it.

The audacity.

And you’ll enjoy it, he adds.

My disbelief and anger rise, but not nearly so fast as my lust.

I swear to the gods, Memnon—In the heat of my emotions I’ve accidentally slipped into Latin.

I sense his smile.Oh, I know, little witch. You’ll get your revenge. I’m eager for it. But unfortunately for you, it won’t be tonight. Until your magic returns, you’re at my whim. And I’m sorry to say, I’m not very merciful.

As he speaks, his magic returns in full force, touching me in all those erotic places it stroked earlier.

I gasp against him as he strides out of the tent and takes me back to our own.

And he’s right. He’s not merciful with me.

But in this, I don’t mind.

CHAPTER 29

ROXILANA, 18 YEARS OLD

54 AD, Southwestern Sarmatia, North of Odesa

The first crispchill has entered the air when I ride next to Katiari, the two of us heading for the training grounds to practice shooting from horseback.

“How’s your tattoo healing?” Katiari asks, nodding to my upper arm, where, beneath my kurta, a stylized panther now adorns my skin. I received it shortly after our recent victorious battle against Zoutoula and his warriors.

“It throbs, and it will probably make archery a pain today, but other than that, it should be?—”

Between my legs, I feel a gush of something warm and wet.

I glance down, trying to figure out what the wetness is, even as it keeps coming.

I’m not…peeing, am I?

I lift my tunic up enough to see blood darkening my trousers. So much blood. More than there ever is during my monthly cycles.

I make a small, sharp noise. “Katiari …”

My sister-in-law glances over, her gaze dropping to the juncture of my thighs. She hisses in a sharp breath.