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“That’s impossible,” I breathe.

“It should’ve been,” Katiari agrees. She reaches out and squeezes my free hand. “I’m so thankful you are not lost to us.”

I study her carefully, the wrongness I feel flickering at the back of her gaze.

“But…?” I finally say.

My sister exhales, then licks her dry lips. “You didn’t see how my brother was before you woke,” she breathes, her gaze drifting to the nearby fire’s flames. “Like a man possessed.” She adds, “He killed so many without thought.”

I remember the bodies. “That is how he fights.” I don’t know why I’m defending him when I myself was shaken by the sight of so much death.

“You don’t understand,” Katiari says. “Had he run out of Romans to sacrifice, he would’ve turned on his own men in an instant. All of us there could see it. Sense it.”

Apprehension rolls through me. As if to punctuate her point, a burst of raw fury ignites from Memnon’s side of our connection. Perhaps it’s my imagination, but I swear that rage is sharper and more violent right now than it ever has been.

Before I can reach out to him, Memnon deliberately pulls away from our bond, leaving me cold and alone.

Katiari continues, “Already people have been whispering that Memnon has lost his way since coming to this palace.” She speaks low so that only I can hear her. “For the first time today, I considered that maybe they’re right. Maybe my brother has lost his way.”

I stare at her for a long moment, aghast.

“Hesavedme,” I reiterate. “Me, your sister, yourqueen. You dare to tell me that my husband, your king, was wrong to do so?” I may feel wretched and unnatural, but Memnon gave who knows how much of himself to retrieve me from death. I have never known such devotion. “Thatwas why he killed,” I say. “It is always why he kills—to save and protect our people. Everything he does is for us.”

“Foryou,” Katiari amends, her eyes lingering on me for a moment before they return to the fire. “He did an unholy thing, killing those men in that temple, dragging you back from the dead long after your heart stopped. I fear he has lost the favor of the gods who once loved him.” She drags her gaze back to mine. “I think youbothhave lost it.”

CHAPTER 40

ROXILANA, 23 YEARS OLD

59 AD, Panticapaeum, Tauris

My death,however brief it was, fundamentally changed Memnon. Almost overnight, he has become cold. Callous. Even cruel—at least in regard to the rest of the world.

Over the weeks, then months, that pass, he consumes himself with war, spending his days training and his nights in his war room, braced over his map, his eyes searching, always searching—for allies, for enemies. All the while, our warriors watch Memnon uneasily, like he might take their lives should it be convenient for him.

And when there is a battle to be had—usually with Roman forces—Memnon has taken to facing them alone. He refuses to let his fighters join him, and he won’t even entertain the possibility of me riding out at his side. The few times I’ve tried, times like right now, I’ve headed out to the stables only to find myself back in our bedroom, perplexed at how I got here.

I stare down at my hands from where I sit on the bed, anger and hurt rising within me. Memnon promised me long ago thathe’d never use his magic on me like this. I never imagined he’d break that vow.

As though my thoughts beckoned him, I hear my warlord husband’s footsteps down the hall. Moments later, his massive form fills the curtained doorway to our room.

There isn’t a speck of blood on his body, though I know he has killed. Nor does he wear the hollowed-out look that he used to in the aftermath of these…massacres.

“Empress,” he breathes, the tense lines of his body relaxing when he sees me, “how my heart has?—”

“What have you done to me?” I say softly.

“What have I done to you?” There’s a challenging look in his eyes—one that would almost be considered playful if Memnon could remember how to be so. “Many things, dear wife. Shall I speak of them, or shall I show you all over again?—”

I prowl forward, burning that he can be so cavalier about this. “Use your power on me again,dear husband, and you won’t like the results.”

Excitement flares in his eyes, my dark promise falling flat. “I hope you intend to follow through on that,” he says.

I know my eyes must flash with my anger. “Is that a threat?”

He moves toward me and leans in so close, I can feel his breath against me. “Maybe.”

I glare at him.