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I smirk back at her, though my eyes are deadly. “You have gravely misjudged me, fairy. I am not nearly so benevolent a queen that I would open my marriage out of some sense of duty.”

I step in close, my magic twisting around me. “I hear that fairies live an astoundingly long time,” I say. “I also hear that, despite their longevity, they can be killed just as swiftly as the rest of us mortals.”

My smile falls away. “If you try to come between me and my husband again, I will bury my blade so deeply down your throat, you’ll be shitting it out.”

I tap the tabletop map a final time. “Good luck with battle plans.”

And then I leave the war room.

CHAPTER 35

ROXILANA, 22 YEARS OLD

58 AD, Panticapaeum, Tauris

There’sa Roman temple here on the palace grounds, one that is as opulent as it is desolate. I imagine the royal family used to come here—there are certainly enough offering stains on its altars to suggest this. But the temple lies vacant now that Cotys and his ilk are gone, and the temple priests along with them.

Deep within its inner sanctum, there is a section of space that shimmers unnaturally, a tear within the fabric of the world.

It’s here, tucked into a shadowy alcove, that I wait for Memnon, Ferox at my side.

I do not wait long.

The familiar thuds of Memnon’s footfalls echo in the outer chamber as he strides through the marble temple.

As soon as I hear those footfalls, my heart lurches.

I had hoped the thoughts and battle strategy I’d overheard across our bond were wrong.

As soon as he enters the inner sanctum, I step out from the alcove, the dangling bits of my diadem shivering with the movement.

Memnon’s eyes land on me, and he physically starts at the sight.

Imagine being known as the king who united the steppe lands, Eislyn’s voice seems to whisper.

“Little witch,” he finally says, raising his eyebrows. “What are you doing here?”

The king who conquered Rome itself.

“Intercepting you,” I say.

Imagine Queen Roxilana ruling the people who once ruled her.

The fairy’s words linger in the space between us.

“Which tribe do you plan on visiting first?” I ask.

Memnon hesitates, and something like shame—maybe guilt—crosses his face.

I give him a look. “I can hear your thoughts,” I tell him, “even when you don’t mean for me to. I knew you were going to attempt this plan the moment we woke.”

He tenses. “Are you going to attempt to convince me otherwise?”

I’m sure he can feel my sadness as I step forward, Ferox moving forward with me.

I shake my head. “I can tell when your mind is made up,” I say. There’s no bitterness in my voice, though my heart is weary already. This will be a long and treacherous road, but I suppose we were doomed from the moment we deposed Cotys.

“I intend to give you the world,” he says, perhaps a touch pleadingly. I can feel his bloodlust and his ambition, his grief and his need to appease it in some way.