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Amongst the gathering crowd, Tamara comes over and shouts above the rest, “The royal bride and groom are riding out for the night. Let’s give them a final toast—to the king and our new queen!”

The revelers cheer, horns and cups rising into the air as the fires around us crackle and pop.

With that, Memnon clicks his tongue and off his horse lunges, the guests parting as we pass through them. Hands touch our clothes and legs as we ride by. Then we’re through the main crowd and charging down the trampled paths, the tents flying by us. Every so often, we pass a stumbling guest or indiscreet lovers.

Is that typical?I ask when my eyes fall on yet another couple tangled off to the side of the path, the man driving himself into the woman from behind.

I can feel Memnon’s rising humor.Yes.After a moment, he adds,We’re a city made of tents. There are few secrets here even with the aid of walls, and many don’t care about those.

We reach the edge of the settlement, and the land opens up before us, the ground and the sky two different shades of black.

“Where are we going?” I ask as Memnon steers us into the darkness. Somewhere out here Ferox prowls.

“Away,” he whispers against my ear.

We ride until the settlement is nothing more than a few pricks of light on the horizon. Eventually, even that disappears.

We ride for some time longer before Memnon’s steed slows, then stops.

“This is it,” he announces, swinging off his horse.

I stare into the darkness. Even in the weak light of night, I can still tell there is nothing here. No buildings, no tents—there aren’t even fences or ruins. Just vast grassland.

Memnon holds out a hand for me to dismount, and I swing off his horse and into his waiting arms.

Our heads are close, our mouths even closer, and my heart patters like rain. We have spent weeks upon weeks being intimate, yet here I am,nervous.

“You don’t need to be nervous,” Memnon says softly. “It is just me.”

Just him and little else.

I glance around us. Stars dapple the sky, and among them hangs a thin crescent moon. The balmy, late-summer air has a chilled edge to it, and I feel as though I am swimming through water. The only noise here is the soft hush of the wind through grass.

“What is this place?” I ask softly. “Why have you brought me here?”

“It’s tradition for the newly married couple to ride out and spend their first night alone on the steppe. Something aboutgetting back to the basics of life—so long as you have the earth beneath you, the sky above you, and your woman at your side, you have an enviable existence.”

After a pause, I say, “So we’re camping again.”

Memnon’s laughter breaks through the darkness. “I hate to confess this to you, my queen, but we will spend more time than not…camping.”

Do I tell him that I could fall in love with this way of existing? If it means more of his laughter and closeness, I would happily endure it.

Memnon releases me so he can hold his hand before him. In his palm, his magic swirls as it forms an orb. Gradually, it begins to glow, the bluish light of it pulsating brighter and brighter until Memnon flicks his wrist, and it lifts into the sky. It floats only a short distance above us.

Beneath the orb, Memnon smiles, the glow casting his face into unearthly blue hues. His eyes shine like pools.

He raises a finger. “Give me a moment.”

“Okay…”

Memnon gives me a long look, like he can still tell I’m jittery, and I swear he almost says something before he returns to his horse, pulling two items from the saddlebag strapped to the beast’s sides.

When he returns, he shakes the first item out, unraveling a blanket he then spreads over the grass. The second item, he presses into my hand. I realize a moment later it’s a canteen. When I unstopper it and take a sip, I taste wine spiced with cinnamon and clove. It’s not diluted the way it would’ve been back in Rome, but it’s spiced the way I like best.

I choke on a laugh, my eyes watering for some odd reason. “You got me spiced wine?” I say. The Sarmatians don’t usually season theirs—bloody wedding rites aside.

Under the light of his magic, Memnon’s gaze grows soft. “I will get you whatever your heart desires so long as you draw breath—maybe even after that as well,” he says with a wry twist of his lips.