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I stay as close to his mind as I can even after he mends himself, listening in on Memnon’s stray thoughts as he gathers his newfound power and continues to fight.

The sky outside my window has just started to lighten when Memnon says,little witch…it’s over.His voice is threaded with exhaustion. My face still aches ever so slightly; it’s the only indication that Memnon is still injured there.

After a moment, he adds,If it were not for your magic, I would be dead.

I blink away the tears that want to slip free. I hadn’t allowed myself to truly believe he was safe, not until now.

Thank you, for saving my life several times over, he says with quiet reverence.

I tuck a long lock of hair behind my ear.

So long as I am alive, you willneverdie, I vow. I won’t lose Memnon like I did my family.

At my words, I feel something from him. It’s stronger than warmth and deeper than fondness. There’s a sweetness to it, like honey, and it comes on with an intensity that makes my breath catch.

Roxilana…Memnon says. His voice grows hoarse.There are things on my mind that I have wanted to confess for a long time. Things?—

Abruptly, he stops speaking.

Memnon?I call out across our connection.Is everything okay?

It’s quiet for a bit longer.

He curses to himself.I’m sorry, he says.I cannot talk now. There is much to be done, and I—Again, he stops himself, then seems to pick his words carefully.Our enemies sought to obliterate my people. We have to gather and discuss a possible counterattack.

Another battle?The thought makes my fear climb once more. I didn’t think I had any energy left to be afraid, but apparently, when it comes to Memnon, I do.

Are you worried for me?he says, sensing my emotions. I swear there’s a smile in his voice.

Of course I’m worried, I say.I woke to you dying.

That was before I had magic. Now, however…

Something tricklesintome from the center of my chest.

I gasp.Memnon’s magic.It feels like a summer storm rolling through me—simultaneously warm and refreshingly cool. My stomach dips at the sensation. Up until now, only Memnon’s thoughts could enter me. Now, however, I experience his magic as though it were my own. I touch my sternum, marveling at it.

Little witch, your power Awoke mine, Memnon says wondrously, his words punctuated by the continued caress of his magic.We both have magic—Another interruption comes. Then,I’m sorry, he repeats.I have to go.

Wait!I call out, uneager to let him go.

Memnon pauses, waiting for me.

What color is your magic?I ask.

I feel his exhausted grin.Blue.

PART TWO

CHAPTER 7

ROXILANA, 18 YEARS OLD

54 AD, Rome, Roman Empire

The dynamicbetween Memnon and I has changed. It has been changing for a while, but at some point between when my magic Awoke and when Memnon’s did, there’s been this giddiness to our conversations, one that’s left me breathless. It’s like trapped laughter in my belly, so light and wonderful, I feel it could carry me away.

I haven’t allowed myself to place a name on this emotion I feel when I speak to Memnon or think of him. I thought I was protecting my heart by doing so.