Page 38

When he notices, he stops.

The two of us spend a moment staring at each other. He’s painfully handsome, and there’s an undeniable thrum between us. But I am unnerved by him. This isn’t at all how I imagined our first meeting going.

“You bent an entire room to your will—you could’ve overthrown the emperor himself,” I say.

Memnon watches me carefully. “I did,” he agrees. “And yes, I could’ve.”

I expected him to defend himself, and it throws me that he doesn’t. “How is what you did even possible?” I finally ask.

He ducks his head, his jaw tightening. “I recently discovered that I have a certain…extra ability,” he admits. “I can read people’s minds with a touch and alter their memories through my will.” Slowly, his gaze lifts from the ground to mine.

My breath catches. “So I cannot do what you just did?”

The corner of his mouth curves up. “No.”

I take that in. “Will you ever altermymind?” I ask, my voice hoarse.

The smile vanishes from his face, and for an instant, I seewoundednessof all things. “Never.”

“Never?” I repeat, skeptical. A power like that is far too tempting.

“I will swear an unbreakable oath on it, my queen,” he says.

I don’t know what an unbreakable oath even is, but I’m in no mood to be making pacts with this man. Besides, curiously enough, I believe him.

My gaze floats up to the golden circlet he wears. “I don’t want your oath…King.” I don’t know how to say that word in Sarmatian.

It’sxsaya,Memnon offers.

I tuck that bit of information away for later. I draw in a shaky breath, then blow it out. “How long have you been a ruler?”

“Four years,” he eventually admits.

Four entire years.

“And you never thought to tell me?” I say softly, hurt at the omission.

Memnon has the grace to look apologetic. “I didn’t want you to see me as anything but Memnon—yourMemnon.”

My Memnon. And now he really is mine.

His eyes search my own. “Do I unnerve you still?” he asks.

I hadn’t realized he had noticed, but of course, through our connection, I cannot hide anything.

When I don’t immediately answer, his eyes flicker. “It’s my appearance, then.”

I cannot deny that his large, battle-scarred body is partly to blame.

Memnon withdraws the gold-hilted dagger at his side. I stumble back at the sight of it, but I’ve no sooner moved away from him than Memnon gathers his unbound hair and brings the edge of the blade to his thick, dark locks.

His intentions register an instant before his arm moves. With one brutal stroke, he slices off his hair.

I let out a startled cry. “What are you doing?” I say, my eyes round.

Memnon drops the shorn locks to the ground, then grabs a clump of the remaining shoulder-length hair, cutting into it once more.

“S-stop!” I insist.