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“What is the meaning of this?” he bellows, alarmed. His voice has the same booming resonance as the former king’s. His gaze rises to Memnon, who still holds a bloody dagger. “What have you done?”

“I’ve made you king,” Memnon says, pointing that dagger, “so long as you don’t squander it.”

Dapyx’s lips curl in, and I’m all but sure he’s forcing himself not to spew insults at Memnon, whose eyes are still glowing.

“Swear allegiance to me, and vow your commitment to fight against Rome,” Memnon says, stepping forward through the blood spatter.

Dapyx’s hand twitches toward his own sheathed blade. “And if I don’t?”

“I’m sure there are others who will be happy to if it means leading your people.”

Dapyx stares at Memnon for several moments, his hand moving closer and closer to the hilt of his weapon. He eyes the Dacian guards, who seem to be debating what to do themselves.

Memnon’s magic snakes through the room again, wrapping itself around the guardsmen. This time, it enters their mouths and noses, and one by one, they collapse.

Dapyx’s eyes flick from one fallen guard to the next.

“I have spoken this more than once before, but perhaps it bears repeating: I am Memnon the Indomitable, Sorcerer King of Sarmatians. I have power beyond your imaginings, and I will use it to dispose of my enemies.”

The glow in Memnon’s eyes dims, and his hair, which had lifted a little, resettles. “I do not want to harm you. I wish to ally our great nations.”

Dapyx’s eyes are fixed to the fallen king, presumably his father. “You have already harmed me.”

Memnon takes him in for several moments, then strides forward through the pool of Rubobostes’s blood, adjusting his grip on his blade.

Dapyx staggers back, lifting his hands to placate my husband. “Wait, wait—I will swear your oath,” he bites out.

Memnon halts, then eventually inclines his head. Cautiously, the stout warrior approaches him. Dapyx clenches his jaw, then kneels before my husband. “Tell me the words, and I will swear them.”

“Swear that you will remain loyal to me and our peoples all the days of your life.”

“I swear I will remain loyal to you and our peoples all the days of my life.”

“And you will fight against Roman invaders and defend our peoples from any other outside threats that seek to destroy us.”

“I will fight against Rome and defend our peoples from all other threats until my last breath.”

Memnon reaches out a hand, and I hear Dapyx’s sharp inhalation when Rubobostes’s bloody circlet rises from the floor seemingly of its own accord, the blood burning away as it floats into Memnon’s hand.

My husband sets it on Dapyx’s head, the man startling at the touch. I understand why when Memnon’s hands linger there on the Dacian’s temples, blue magic seeping out from them. It enters the man’s mouth, and I’m certain he must be using his powers to alter the man’s mind—likely to ensure Dapyx remains loyal even after we leave.

Memnon releases the Dacian’s face. “Welcome, brother, to our confederation.”

CHAPTER 36

ROXILANA, 23 YEARS OLD

59 AD, Panticapaeum, Tauris

Dacia is only the beginning.

We spend the next several months visiting various tribes and nations, securing allegiance wherever we go. Sometimes these rival rulers cooperate, and the alliance is forged all on its own. Sometimes it takes Memnon’s personal brand of persuasion. Sometimes it even takes my own.

And if Memnon starts to reconsider the scope of these plans, well, Eislyn is there to whisper all the glories of the world into his ears. Eislyn, who is cold and clever except when she and Memnon are together—then she is especially clever. Not that my husband sees it. For him, she is all bright eyes and coy smiles and promises, so many promises. Of riches and land, power and fame—but most of all,me. She spins the tale like Memnon’s valor is all for me.

I know this game. I have seen it before. I simply don’t know how to sabotage it. And so we hurtle forward, amassing a force that spans kingdoms, one ruthlessly lead by Memnon.

Rome notices.