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“I didn’t ask you if you needed one.”

His fingers press a little more firmly against my lower belly, and I can’t help but glance down. It’s been years since my miscarriage. I haven’t gotten pregnant since, despite the copious amounts of sex we have.

My gaze rises back to his. “You’re serious?”

“I am.” His free hand rises to stroke my cheek. “Do you remember when I first admitted my feelings for you?”

Back when I lived in Rome, and he lived here.

I nod.

“You asked me how I felt about you. Do you remember what I said?”

It takes a moment to recall his exact words. “You said you felt like you could conquer the world, just to lay it at my feet.”

He smiles at the memory. “I did,” he confirms. After a long pause, he adds, “That wasn’t an idle promise.”

“I hadn’t realized that was a promise at all,” I say wryly, tapping his nose with my finger. I assumed it was something ardent teenagers said to one another. All symbolism and pomp.

Memnontsks, then shifts his face so his lips can brush a kiss against that finger. “You should know me better by now.”

I trace his facial scar. “So you really want to give me a palace?” I’m not sure that’s what I want most, but perhaps it’s what he wants most, and I certainly cannot deny him anything.

Memnon gazes at me, his eyes still so very bright. I can feel his own yearning across our bond. “Yes.”

“Okay,” I say softly, nodding. Sarmatians don’t settle down in palaces; it goes against their entire way of life. But if Memnon wants to make this happen,we will make it happen.

“Do you have one in mind?” I ask.

“I do,” he says.

I raise my eyebrows. “Oh, really? Which one?”

“The one at Panticapaeum.”

I stiffen in his arms, my amusement bleeding away. Panticapaeum is a port city, one that controls the imports and exports that move through the Black Sea and the ocean beyond. Panticapaeum also happens to be the capital city of the Bosporan Kingdom, which Rome controls.

“There’s already a ruler in that one,” I say, frowning.

“I’m aware.”

I shake my head, not having gotten my point across. “There’s a ruler therewho answers to Rome.” Rome, which loves warfare every bit as much as Sarmatians do. Rome, an empire of unparalleled power and reach.

Up until now, Sarmatia has coexisted with the Bosporan Kingdom on the same land. It works because we don’t try to usurp them, and they don’t try to drive us away.

But if we overthrow their leader now…

“Unless King Cotys answers to the gods themselves, I do not care,” Memnon says.

A chill passes through me. “Have you eaten bad bread?” I ask, genuinely concerned. “We don’t want to go up against Rome.” To take one of the empire’s strongholds, a palace thatcontrols a port, and with it, access to this entire region of the world—no, no, Rome will never allow it.

“Do we not?” he asks. “Because I think our people need a good challenge. We have expanded our own lands, vanquished every enemy who has set upon us?—”

“Yes, but this isRomewe’re speaking of.”

Memnon clasps my face in his hands. “Let them come, Empress. Let Rome’s wrath fall upon our spears and swords. We are untouchable.”

Dread flows through my veins, hitching my breath.