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“Lucky you, you’d still hear it anyway.”

And with that, he carries me away.

CHAPTER 22

ROXILANA, 18 YEARS OLD

54 AD, Northern Sarmatia, near the Borysthenes River

On the finalday of wedding celebrations, I’m startled from sleep by a sharp slap on the ass.

“Wake up, daughter, we have ritual business to attend to.”

I blink awake, trying to sort myself out. I’m in Memnon’s tent—ourtent—the space large and brimming with wedding gifts. Somewhere in sleep, I kicked off the blankets. I grab for them now, intent to burrow beneath them and return to my dim dreams.

Only, the linens are snatched from my grip.

“Roxilana, get up.” Tamara’s stern voice cuts through the sleepy haze of my mind, and I startle.

I sit up before my mind has a chance to second-guess it. Absently, my hand reaches for Memnon, but the warm body splayed out at my side is Ferox’s, and my husband is nowhere in sight.

“He’s been called away on kingly business. He will be back later. Now,up.”

As Tamara speaks, Katiari enters the tent, moving over to one of the chests in the room rather than greeting me.

I frown as I push myself out of bed. Near me, Ferox stretches, then curls back up on the blankets, uninterested in what’s happening around him.

Both Tamara and Katiari are already dressed in short kurtas and trousers, though judging by the dimness of the room, the sun hasn’t fully risen yet.

“What’s going on?” I say, my gaze moving from mother to daughter.

Katiari pulls a pair of trousers and a lightweight kurta out of the chest and tosses them to me.

“Get dressed,” Tamara commands, backing away, as imperious as ever. “The kurta is optional.”

“I brought wine,” Katiari adds helpfully. She holds up a jug I didn’t notice before.

My gaze moves from her to Tamara. “What do you mean, ‘the kurta is optional’?” I say, lifting the garment from the bed. “What sort of ritual business is this?”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Tamara says ominously.

I eye her as I begin to dress, only a little self-conscious that they’re seeing my body. They already got an eyeful on my wedding day.

Once I finish dressing and move to pull on my boots, Katiari crosses over to me and extends the jug of wine. “You really should drink.”

I give her a perplexed look, even as I take the jug.

What sort of ritual might I need wine for?

I unstopper it and hesitate for the barest of moments before I tip a little into my mouth. When I taste the heady, undiluted wine, I wince.

Tamara grabs my diadem from where it rests on a nearby side table, fitting the thing on top of my mess of hair.

“There,” she says, her fingers trailing lovingly down my cheeks. “Now you are ready.” She backs away. “Come, dear daughters,” she says, making her way to the tent’s entrance. “The day is getting started without us.”

I lean over to Ferox and place a ward on him so he can safely wander through camp and the wilds beyond. And then, following Tamara and Katiari, I slip from the tent.

Outside, dawn is just beginning to blush, yet already, the air holds a promise of heat as we begin to walk.