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I straighten my spine, drawing on my will.

“Seal the opening.” The stone covering slides over the…tomb’sentrance, then with a thud, sinks into place.

Ferox makes a low, baleful noise, scratching at the stone like he can unearth it. Drowning in sorrow, I have to stifle another sob.

My heart seems to skip a beat, then stall. After a terrifying few moments, it begins to thump again.

I have precious little time left to perform one final spell—a curse that will eclipse Eislyn’s magic with my own.

If my desperate plan is to work, it is not enough for Memnon to outlive the enchantment. Eislyn must forget her fevered fixation so she might never come back for him. And those who could remind the fairy of Memnon’s existence, their memories must too be expunged.

I think of the soldiers pouring into the palace and the many places Memnon has violently conquered. There are thousands who would want to kill my slumbering husband if they ever learned the truth. One whispered word into the wrong ears—it wouldn’t even have to be Eislyn. Other supernaturals could access the ley lines and end the king while he lies vulnerable.

Everyonemust forget my sorcerer, so that none may come searching.

Only I shall have that power.

That insidious, dark force closes in on the last of me, and my heart seizes again.

One…two…three…

Sluggishly, it resumes beating.

I take a shuddering breath and gather all that I can of the power at my disposal.

“With all that is left in me, I demand this world and everyone in it forget UvagukisMemnon. Every last person who carries a memory of him shall lose them, beginning with Eislyn.”

I give the last of myself up to the curse.

Pure, raw power bursts from me, sweeping out across the jungle until I can no longer see it. I sense when the first mind has been struck. It must be Eislyn’s. I take a perverse amount of pleasure knowing I’m peeling away her memories.

She’s the first, but it’s only the beginning of the curse.

Across the world, a thousand upon a thousand people carried some awareness of Memnon. One by one, my magic devours every last bit of those memories. Memnon the Indomitable simply becomes some vague, merciless, nomadic king of a horde of warriors who came and went.

In my mind’s eye, I see the petroglyphs bearing his name chip away until the recordings vanish. The ink on papyri rearranges itself to remove Memnon; where his presence is too frequent, the papyri simply burn up.

Across every land he conquered, his name disappears, cast from the record.

I take the memory of Memnon from everything and everyone.

I scream as my magic and that foreign essence consume me. The years of my life fall away like a fever dream as the magic leaving me thins out to a wisp.

My heart stutters as that last thread of power darkens, then doubles back on itself, returning toward me.

I must hold on until the curse is finished. For this to work, no one can remember him.

No one…

Not even me.

My magic strikes then, sinking into my flesh and closing in on my memories. With a final, choked cry, my heart stops, and the last mind is wiped.

EPILOGUE

An old soul. A new body. And a distant call.

Come find me, my queen…