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“Brave enough?” I echo, perplexed.

I glance at Memnon, who appears neither surprised nor confused but rather…grim. What gift could possibly make a battle-scarred king look so apprehensive?

“Yes, daughter,braveenough,” Ilyapa says, recapturing my attention. He leans in close. “For you see, you will have to travel to my kingdom to enjoy it.”

Your father is joking, right?I ask Memnon as he, myself, Ilyapa, and Eislyn head through camp, toward the entrance of the settlement.

Memnon’s expression is still unnervingly somber, his mouth turned down slightly at the corners.I do not think so.

I stare at Memnon, thrown by his answer.What does that mean?

“Let me speak to my new daughter,” Ilyapa interrupts. “Eislyn, lead Memnon to the ley line.”

Ley line?

Eislyn is only too happy to step in close to my husband and draw him away from my side.

Meanwhile, Memnon’s father moves in and tucks my hand into his. “How are you taking to married life?”

“It is wonderful.”

I can feel his eyes on me. “And my son? Does he treat you well?”

I turn to look at Ilyapa and say earnestly, “He’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”

A smile touches Ilyapa’s lips, though it quickly dims. “And his magic—you are okay with it?”

My brow furrows. “Why wouldn’t I be?” Even as I say it, I see the slaughtered Romans and the dead gladiators. I see Nero with his panicked eyes and his pleading face. It’s like a cloud covering the sun, this remembering.

Ilyapa tilts his head, his gold disc earrings catching the light as he assesses me again. “I cannot tell whether you are lying or simply do not know.”

“Do not know what?”

Ilyapa studies me a bit longer. “Memnon comes from a blighted lineage, dear daughter.”

“He has told me he’s a sorcerer,” I say. “I’ve seen what his power can do.”

Ilyapa nods. “Has he told you about what it costs him?”

My brows draw together in confusion.

“Ah, he hasn’t.” Ilyapa leans in conspiratorially. “The way he looks at you, I am not surprised. I wouldn’t have either, had I found my soul mate. I would’ve waited until she was inescapably mine.”

A chill runs down my spine at the possession in his words, and I think I am fortunate to be bound to a man like Memnon and not his father.

“But you should know: In our lineage, a sorcerer’s power comes at a price. The more we use it, the more it eats away at our conscience until there is nothing left of it.”

That chill amplifies, spreading through me. “What?” I say softly.Thismust be the joke, one I do not fully understand. Memnon has never mentioned this, and after all the other revelations we’ve had, he would’ve, right?

“Memnon will…lose his conscience?” Because the man will not stop using his magic. That would be an impossible request for either of us.

Ilyapa studies me. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

That’s essentially a yes. I study Memnon’s back, trying to not let his father’s words burrow under my skin. “Has this happened to you?” I ask, turning to look at Ilyapa again. “Have you lost your conscience?”

“Nearly all of it, dear daughter.”

I raise my eyebrows, my heart beginning to race. “But the way you embraced Memnon…” I protest. Surely that cannot be faked?