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Memnon pulls away then, though he still holds my face in his hands. Around us, the air is obscured by our mixed magic—orange and blue, and where it’s thoroughly mixed, a bruise-hued purple.

Memnon searches my features, his hands warm against my cheeks. “I cannot believe you are here in my arms.” He smiles again, just as he did after we spoke our vows, and like then, it lights up his entire face, crinkling the skin around his eyes and softening that scar he wears. “I am sure I am the happiest man who’s ever lived.”

His eyes search mine and carefully, so carefully, he brushes back the strands of hair that have slipped free from my braided updo. “Mywife. My Roxilana.”

Wife. I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face at the title.

My eyes move over his face then, taking in his features as he did mine. His sun-bronzed skin, his smoky-amber eyes, his subtly hooked nose and high cheekbones.

“My husband.”

His eyes crinkle at their corners, and though my lips feel swollen, I have to fight the desire to pull him to me once more.

He runs a hand over his smooth jaw. “Do I now look like the pretty Roman boy you imagined me to be?” he asks, mirth in his tone.

With his shorn hair and his clean-shaven face, he could nearly pass for a Roman.

“I couldn’t imagine anyone as breathtaking as you are,” I admit.

I think it’s finally settling in now that he is real, he is here, and he ismine.

Memnon takes my hand and clasps it between his. “Always yours.”

CHAPTER 13

ROXILANA, 18 YEARS OLD

54 AD, Rome, Roman Empire

My face is flushedas we ride through the streets of Rome, following the escort Emperor Nero sent us. I sit astride Memnon’s horse, riding it like a man does, my stola and tunic magically split to accommodate me. Whatever boldness and excitement I felt when I first made the decision, it’s gone now.

Memnon keeps a possessive hand against my stomach, bracing me against his chest. His magic rings my torso and limbs, further binding me to him.

This is no normal ride; it’s more of a procession, one that largely shows off Sarmatian might. Memnon must’ve used those peculiar abilities of his to allow us to ride so boldly—almost victoriously—through the streets of Rome, a place infamous for its Triumphs, processions that commemorate Rome’s might and showcase the defeat of foreign kingdoms.

All eyes are on us. The people take me in, their eyes drifting from my bridal crown and veil to the barbarian king at my back. I see them lean into one another and whisper, and I can’t helpthe blood that rushes to my face. I may not have been born a Roman, but I was raised one.

You are shaking, Memnon notes.

I am…afraid, I admit.

Whatever for?

I’ve never had so much attention on me.And I don’t think I like it.

It is they who fear us, he says.They look at us and know my men and I could cut them down faster than they could scream. We are the stories they tell their children at night to make them behave.

I scan the crowd, and sure enough, the peopledolook afraid—afraid and curious and perhaps a touch in awe. At least when they look at these Sarmatian warriors.

Maybe they are afraid of you, but they aren’t afraid of me.When they look at me, it’s just pity and derision.

“Oh, but they are afraid,” Memnon insists, whispering the words in my ear. “They see you in my arms and they know that you are no Roman—not anymore. You are one of us.”

As his horse canters forward, he continues, “Sarmatians are the fiercest in the world. They are trained from birth to ride horses and wield weapons. They must fight in at least one battle before they are allowed to marry. And you are to be their queen. You will wear the riches of my empire, and you will ride astride my horse as my people do, and you will show these people that you weremadeto rule my warriors.”

I draw in a shallow breath, my trembling hand coming to rest over Memnon’s where he holds me fast. I don’t answer him—not even in my head—but I do thread my fingers between his and give him a squeeze.

I lift my chin, and I bear the stares a little better for the rest of the ride to the Circus Maximus.