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I both hear his husky laugh and feel the vibrations of it where his chest meets my back. It sends a pleasant shiver through me.

All right. While we travel, I’ll teach you a little of what my father taught me, Memnon promises.By the time we reach Sarmatia, you will certainly be better at it than I am.

Up ahead, one of the arching gates of Rome comes into view. Unlike the rest of the city, there are people awake and about here, namely soldiers.

I tense when they see us.

Easy, little witch, Memnon says.There is no reason for worry.

As he speaks, plumes of his magic pour out of him and streak toward the waiting soldiers. They wrap around each man like a snake constricting its kill, until the magic envelops them entirely. When his power clears, the soldiers’ movements appear unchanged.

I glance over my shoulder at Memnon.What did you do to them?

It’s an enchantment, he says.

When he sees my quizzical expression, he elaborates.An enchantment is like a ward, but rather than offering protection, it creates illusions.

I watch the soldiers, trying to better understand the magic at play. I don’t immediately notice it, not until one moment rolls into the next and the soldiers don’t seem to see us. In fact, they seem to look everywherebutat our group. And when one of them does look in our direction, his eyes pass over us, as though we don’t exist at all.

As we close in on the gate, Memnon’s steed picks up speed. Faster and faster, he gallops. Behind me, I can hear the wooden wheels of the wagon clacking over the road. I glance over my shoulder and catch sight of Ferox sitting up, wearing what can only be described as an annoyed expression on his face.

I bite back my laugh and face forward, just in time to see those soldiers in vivid detail. Then we’re racing past them. I’m under the looming archway for no longer than an inhalation, and then, I’m free.

Free like the swallows soaring above us and the bees that move about the wild grass beyond us. I’m drunk on the air whistling past me, and on a whim, I stretch out my arms just to bask in it. I’m certain that if we rode any faster, I might just get swept up and carried off by one of the Four Winds.

I think I’m laughing, but then—no, there’s wetness on my cheeks.

Memnon says nothing, though his hand moves from my thigh, wiping my cheeks.

I thought I’d never leave that city. I’ve never been so happy to be wrong.

“I’ve never been so happy either,” Memnon whispers against my ear, raising goose bumps along my arms.

I lower my arms and lean into him, downright giddy as Memnon and his men steer the steeds east, toward where thesun rises. Somewhere far off in the distance, at the very edge of the known world, lies my new home.

Sarmatia.

“We will begin small,” Memnon says that evening as we stand among the wild grass we’ve staked out for our camp. Apparently, we will be doing this every night. It’s gritty and nowhere near what I would’ve envisioned for a king, but I’m thrilled at the novelty of it.

Memnon’s men and Ferox have all wandered into the wilderness around us to hunt game, leaving me and Memnon to set up camp. And Memnon has used this as an opportunity to teach me about magic.

“You seem far too excited about this,” I say, the breeze tugging on the dusty wedding attire I still wear. “It’s making me nervous.”

“Roxi, have I ever let you down before?”

I can’t directly look at him, I’ve realized. When I do so, I start to blush or else I simply stare. Somewhere between yesterday and today, I decided that he’s absurdly gorgeous, and now I cannot act normal.

“Your teaching skills in the past have left something to be desired,” I say, toeing the ground with a sandaled foot.

“Yet you still learned to speak Sarmatian beautifully,” he fires back.

I pout a little at the compliment. I’m pretty sure it’s cheating to say nice things to someone when you’re supposed to be bickering with them.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Memnon grin a little. At the sight, my stomach flutters and my throat catches. Memnon isno longer wearing his armor or his crown, and without them, he seems less intimidating, more laid bare.

He draws close to me, then catches me by the chin, turning my face to his. “You really do speak our language beautifully,” he says softly, his expression sincere. Heat rises to my cheeks as I dip my eyes, even as he searches my features. “Now, why won’t you look at me?”

Ugh, he’s going to make me say it. “Can’t you just read my thoughts?”