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Yes, I whisper down our bond.

It’s utterly still between us for a moment. Then, Memnon’s reaction floods me. I feel his exaltation and his relief.

Thank the gods, he says.

Despite my predicament, my heart races and my own joy rises now that we’re finally, finally admitting this.

Wouldyouwant that?I ask.

I feel his giddy smile.Would I want that?Memnon repeats disbelievingly.I have waitedyearsto hear these words from you and to tell you how I truly feel.

Howdoyou truly feel?I ask timidly.

Like I could conquer the world just to lay it all at your feet.His voice turns serious.Roxi, you are my first and last thought each day. I have longed for you more than I care to admit—notjust as my friend and confidant but also as my lover and wife andamage.

I can hardly catch my breath, and I feel so light I might float away. I’m shaking a little and smiling like a fool. When did it get like this? When did my own emotions become so intertwined with his?

The thrill of it draws out more pale orange magic from the palms of my hands, magic that only I and presumably other magic wielders can see.

You want me to be your lover? Your wife?I say softly. Memnon has kept the meaning of that last term—amage—from me, but it doesn’t matter. I understand his intentions well enough.

I feel Memnon smile then, and the sensation does something funny to my stomach.

Yes, he says.We were meant to be together. I am yours, Roxilana. Just say you will have me.

I feel like a silly girl when I realize there’s wetness on my cheeks—not from sadness this time but fromhope. For a moment, I let myself fall wholly into the possibility of us.

Of course I will have you.Giving into my feelings for Memnon feels like magic itself—beautiful and impossible and wondrous. Nothing else in my life has ever come close to this all-consuming euphoria.

Until, that is, the reality of my life creeps back in.

As soon as I remember my earlier conversation with Livia, bile rises to the back of my throat.

“You selfish, little ingrate,” Livia said. “You will agree to marry whomever I choose, or I’ll turn you out onto the streets, and we’ll see how long you last there.”

A shudder works through me.

Livia hasn’t yet made any significant wedding plans, but she mentioned a few names of potential spouses.

There’s the lecherous jewelry maker with rotted teeth, Marcellus, who stares at my breasts every time we visit him for metal clothing adornments. But then there’s another suitor, Titus, the textile merchant who smells like soured wine and unwashed body odor, who stands too close and spits when he talks.

Both men are old enough to be my father—possibly even my grandfather. But Livia doesn’t mind, so long as my marriage means she’ll get a familial discount on items she needs for her business and that, perhaps, she’d get to keep me on as her assistant.

A chill rolls through me as I try to imagine that life—married to a man whose touch I wouldn’t want, working for a woman who has mistreated me for years. I knew I’d have to marry eventually, and I knew I likely wouldn’t get a choice or even much like my options. But I hadn’t expected to feel so desolate.

Roxi?Memnon says, calling me back.

I take a deep breath.Yes?

I feel another grin and the bright happiness that alights our connection.

I have been making plans, Roxi, Memnon says excitedly. If he’s aware of the bleak turn in my thoughts, then he’s trying to draw my joy back out.I just needed to know you felt the same as I did before I acted on them, he continues.

Plans?I echo.

Do you remember what I said to you the first time we spoke?Memnon asks.

You said many things to me, I respond slowly, not following.