Page 29

“G-Get your hands off my daughter,barbarian.” Livia spits that last word out like an oath. Her eyes bounce from Memnon to the warriors that stand like sentinels near the door. “You offend the gods, coming in here on my daughter’s wedding day.”

“Ah, yes, her wedding day,” Memnon says, his attention moving to my stola, then my flower crown and veil. Memnon says each word slowly, deliberately. “The only person Roxilana is marrying isme”—his gaze sweeps the room—“unless one of you would like to challenge me for her hand?”

It’s quiet for several inhalations, likely while each person in the room measures up the Sarmatian.

“‘Roxilana’?” Livia breaks the silence. “That is not my daughter’s name. Whatever business you have with this Roxilana, you have come to the wrong house.”

Memnon swings his gaze to her, and his eyes grow cold. “Have I, Livia?”

She blanches at the sound of her name on his lips. “How do you know who I am, barbarian?” she whispers.

He takes an ominous step forward.How I have yearned to meet this woman, Roxi, he says to me.I have fantasized about the many ways I might punish her for making you suffer.

To Livia, Memnon says, “I knowmanythings about you, most of them unpleasant.” He takes another step toward her. “Shall I list them? Or shall I save us both the hassle and simply cut you down where you stand?” As he speaks, his hand moves to touch the pommel of his sword.

A sense of calmness moves through me. My mind has agonized over this moment for the last two months, the moment I must act.

“No,” I say, stepping between my adoptive mother and Memnon. “No blood will be spilled. Not when I chose you, Memnon.”Just as I have chosen you every day before this one, I add down our bond.

Memnon’s expression softens, longing replacing vengeance on his features.

Titus’s voice cuts through the moment. “What sort of cruel trick is this, Livia?” the older man asks.

“Trick?” she says, her voice shrill. “Iam the one who has been tricked.” Livia grabs me roughly by the upper arm. “I don’t know what this is, girl,” she whispers harshly, “or who you’ve gone and whored yourself to, but I willnothave you ruining all my hard-made plans.”

Memnon’s eyes fall to where Livia’s hand grips my forearm, her nails digging into my skin. The mood of the room shifts. He’s still so close to her, and that banked vengeance rises once more as his magic pours out of him, magic that no one else in the room seems to notice.

Faster than I can follow, Memnon grabs Livia by the throat, forcing her to relinquish her grip on me, and in three quick steps he shoves her up against the back wall.

She gasps, pinned like a fish on a hook.

Memnon lowers his voice as he stares at her. “For years, I have fantasized about all the ways I could make you pay for hurting my mate.”

Mate?

Livia chokes, her hands scratching at Memnon’s. No one else in the room moves, all of us held in place by shock.

Ever since our minds first touched, Memnon has been my friend and confidante. But now, I’m having to face the reality of what he is: a king and a brutal warrior. One who moves and works with all the impunity a ruler has.

“It pains me to be merciful to scum such as yourself. But the woman you have repeatedly slighted I hold before all others, and since she has, unfortunately, asked me not to spill your bitter blood, I will stay my hand. But youwillapologize to her.” The command is punctuated by a ribbon of blue magic that encircles Livia’s neck and settles into her skin.

With that, he releases my adoptive mother.

Livia crumples to the ground, her hand going to her throat as she gasps for air.

Behind me, I hear someone move forward.

Memnon reaches out a hand. “Don’t,” he cautions, never looking away from Livia.

When Livia glances up, she gazes fearfully at Memnon before turning to look at me. The eye contact is heavy; years unspool between the two of us—all that pain and companionship laid bare.

She opens her mouth, and I brace myself for her response, sure that whatever she has to say, it’s not contrite. But the moment Livia’s lips try to form words, her tongue seems to tie itself. She tries again, and the sounds come out as nothing more than a gargle. Her cheeks pinken with embarrassment and a touch of anger.

It takes me a moment to realize that whatever Livia was attempting to say, it was not an apology, hence why Memnon’s magic stifled it. I stare, shocked that Memnon’s magic can dothis. That perhapsmymagic can do this. I haven’t used it in this manner before.

Livia presses her lips together then, giving up on saying anything. But now I sense rather than see that ribbon of Memnon’s magic tightening around her neck. It begins to squeeze and squeeze like a phantom hand.

Livia’s throat works, and she touches it, fear clouding her expression.