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The Roman commander glances over his shoulder at the dead man and the rest of his tense, shifting soldiers before returning to look at us. His gaze pauses on me for a moment.

“This is the woman you killed my soldier over?” His eyes skim me up and down with dispassionate calculation.

Memnon doesn’t answer, just tracks him with his bow.

“I’m sure you care about her honor,” the centurion continues, “but you, great king, are alone out here on the road threatening the might of Rome, so I will say this one more time: put down the godsdamned weapons or else my men will overpower you, and I will let my men make an honest whore of your bride.”

They are ugly, grotesque words, and I feel terror creep into my bones at the sound of them.

Ahead of me, wind stirs Memnon’s hair.

Zosines curses under his breath. “Roxilana, comrades,” he barks out, “retreat?—”

Memnon’s power erupts out of him, the force of it throwing the commander and the closest of his soldiers back before it swallows them up. Within the blue smoke, I hear a scream. Then another.

Behind me, Itaxes, Rakas, and Sattion are rapidly securing their weapons and turning their steeds around. Ferox hunkers low in the wooden cart, his ears flattened back.

Zosines maneuvers his horse to my side and grabs my reins from me. Without a word, he steers our horses back down the path we came.

“What are you doing?” I shout to be heard over the growing number of screams as we retreat down the path.

“Getting us away from Memnon before we die!” he shouts.

“Die?” I echo.

Behind me, Memnon thunders to the Romans, “You think me a barbarian?” He laughs, the haunting sound carrying on the wind. “I will give you barbarous.”

I glance over my shoulder in time to see a second wave of power explode from my husband, and in the thick soup of it, the screams multiply.

“There are many things you don’t yet know about our king. His power is one of them.”

But I do know his power.

I think.

I glance over my shoulder again, where I should be able to see his lone figure. Instead, all I see are waves of Memnon’s magic swirling around like a vortex. Lightning streaks throughthe plumes of it. As I watch, a section of the swirling mass expands in our direction.

It should seem ominous, but it’s not fear I feel.

Memnon…

You are safe, my queen,he says. Even down our bond, his voice sounds different,off.

I face forward as Zosines drives us down the path.

“Release my horse’s reins,” I command.

Zosines sets his jaw, ignoring me.

“Zosines—”

“No, my queen, I won’t. It’s too dangerous.”

I glance back over my shoulder. Across our bond, all I feel is his wrathful power.

There’s no time to argue with the warrior.

My magic funnels down my arm and into my palm. With a thought alone, I release it. The orange ropes of my magic jerk the reins from Zosines’s hand and into my own.