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I swallow, my hand moving to my neck. For a moment, I swear I feel a phantom throb beneath my fingers.

“I have turned these thoughts over and over in my head,” Memnon says. “The wards you wore in battle that day stopped working far too soon. That, along with this letter makes me certain that Nero has both knowledge of our powers, and some strategy to counteract them.”

I grow cold as I think over the situation. “This is why you’ve been consumed with war.”

Memnon’s eyes flicker as he stares at me. “It is why I have keptyouaway from battle,” he clarifies softly.

My throat constricts at that.

“But if Nero has any strategy at all to fight our magic,” I say, “then why are you riding into battlealoneto face his legions?” By the sound of it, Memnon’s battle strategy has not only been risky, it’s been…suicidal. My panic rises at the thought.

Memnon’s eyes soften. “I swear to all the gods, Roxi, I have not been careless. If there were a worthy opponent to challenge my magic, I would’ve heard of them long before now,” he says. “No, Nero may at best have a witch or two in his army, but none with the power to stop my attacks or remove my wards faster than I can replace them.”

I still don’t like it, though I cannot argue that since my brief death, Memnon has not once returned from battle wounded. What happened to me on the battlefield seems to have been a singular event.

I hand the letter to him. “Why did you never speak of this to me?” I try not to sound hurt by the secrecy.

He takes the scroll from me then lets his magic carry it back to the chest. “It made me unspeakably angry.” Memnon pauses as the lid of the chest thumps closed, sealing the letter inside.

“I read it before battle,” he admits. I raise my eyebrows.Thisis how he fuels his prolific magic—with his fury.

His expression gentles. “Enough talk of war, come here. I need you.”

I don’t even have a chance to respond before Memnon sweeps me into his arms and his mouth descends on mine.

I kiss him, biting his lower lip harder than necessary. He grins against me as he carries me to the bed.

Do that again, little witch, he says down our bond.I like your anger.

I don’t bother telling him that I’m no longer angry—the letter doused my fury like water to flame.My anger is not for your enjoyment.

Memnon grins at me shamelessly as he lays me out on our bed.But, Empress, forgive me, Idoenjoy it.He follows me onto the mattress. Rather than undo the fibulae at my shoulders, he tugs one gathered strap down my arm, then the other, revealing my breasts in the dimly lit room.

At the sight of them, he groans. Memnon leans forward as though he can’t help himself and presses kisses to one, then the other. My breasts are unusually sensitive, and even these soft touches hurt a little.

One of Memnon’s large hands goes to my midsection, and though his magic must be exhausted, spindly blue wisps of it spread out beneath his palm, parting the linen.

The fabric falls away, revealing my bare skin. His palm skims up my flesh, between my breasts and over my neck, coming to rest at the back of my head.

Memnon gazes down at me for several moments, taking in every corner of my face.

“I have hurt you,” he finally says. “I have not wanted to admit it, but I know over the last months I have. I can see it in your eyes even now. Tell me what pains you.”

I swallow, not ready for this question, despite the weeks I’ve had to consider my feelings where Memnon is concerned. This is a broader issue than Roman death threats or him misusing his magic or me, and there is no single answer I can give him as to why I’ve been hurting; it’s more a tangled web of reasons that have all knotted together.

So I settle on the most obvious one. “You gave up too much,” I say softly.

I don’t say what, precisely, he gave up, but we both know what I speak of—Memnon’s compassion. It was at the heart of everything he did for his people. And he sacrificed most of it to save me.

Memnon shakes his head. “I did not, not when it comes to you.” He takes my hand and laces his fingers between my own. “I would’ve given upmoreif that’s what it took to get you back. I would follow you to the ends of the earth—into the very afterlife if I had to. Do you understand?” His eyes search mine. “This palace, my power, my people—it all comes second tous.”

With my free hand, I stroke his cheek as he gazes down at me. It hurts all the more that he did this for me. He lost so much because I died, if only for a short time.

“That look is still in your eyes,” he notes.

“It will probably continue to be there for a long time,” I admit.

Memnon frowns, and I can feel his dissatisfaction with that. “What would it take for it to go away?”