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The thought echoes as, all at once, the pressure in my chesterupts, and my magic rushes out to the panther. The instant it grips the creature, a connection snaps into place, the force of it bringing me to my knees.

I bow my head, my breath coming out in a shaky exhale, and I press a hand to my chest. Beneath it, I sense my bond to Memnon, but now, there is an additional connection there—one that binds me to…to the panther in front of me.

I only have a moment to wonder at this new bond when, as quickly as it’s established, my awareness movesdownit, until I’m lookingthroughthe panther’s eyes.

I stagger—or rather, the animal staggers—as I stare out at the world, which looks sharper yet far less vibrant, the colors muted. But the smells are far more potent than anything I’ve ever experienced.

In particular, the iron tang of blood in the air has my gums aching with the need to bite down on something, that hollow pain in my stomach pushing out all sense of reason.

I turn my hungry gaze to the kneeling form across from me. Panic courses through me when I realize I’m looking at my own form, my head bowed and my veil obscuring parts of my face.

A sharp, frantic instinct to hunt pounds with my pulse, but as I stare at my own form, a far more dominant instinct overlies it.

Protect.

An instant later, I’ve snapped back into my own mind. I sway, thrown by the perspective shift as roaring comes at me from all sides. I glance up, realizing with alarm that while I’ve been preoccupied with this panther, we’ve been in the middle of an active Roman hunt.

I glance up at our surroundings, my power gathering within me. It’s only then that I realize the arena and the stadiums beyond are largely obscured by thick, blue smoke.

Memnon’s magic.

I push to my feet, slowly turning in a circle as I sense the panther approaching my side.

Behind me, Memnon stands amongst the magic that hides the other animals and fighters from sight.

His gaze moves from me to the panther next to me.

I have no idea what on Api’s good, green earth is going on, he finally says,but I am with you, my queen. I am always with you.

My good sense is only now returning to me, lifting the strange fog that clouded my thoughts.

I place a hand on the panther’s head. My awareness slips for a moment, and I’m in his mind once more. He’s still starving, still weak, but now, above it all, I feel kinship as I stare out its eyes before returning to my own.

A single word sings between us as I return to my own head:

Mine.

I glance to Memnon as he tentatively approaches me, again treating me like a skittish horse. It reminds me of what he said earlier about burning our marriage document.

We are with you too, I finally say to Memnon, answering his earlier words.Always.

Memnon’s brows pull together, his gaze bouncing between me and the panther even as a shadow of a smile curves his lips.

Thank the gods, he responds, relief edging his voice as he closes the last of the distance between us.Because I wasn’t certain I could willingly walk away from you.

His expression sobers.I have never known fear like the moment you jumped into the arena like that.Beneath his words, I feel something else, some mixture of pride and desire.That was one of the bravest, brashest acts I’ve yet seen.He reaches out and lays a hand on my chest.You may have been raised Roman, but your heart is all Sarmatian.

I give him a shy smile, my words failing me.

The hushed silence around us has me finally lifting my gaze away from Memnon to the crowds above us. The stadium is eerily quiet, the spectators watching us with grim wonder. As Memnon’s magic clears, I realize why.

The arena is a graveyard, the sandy earth coated in blood and bodies. Every last man and beast has been stabbed, sliced, bitten, or bludgeoned to death.

All except for us.

CHAPTER 14

ROXILANA, 18 YEARS OLD