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“You had me worried there for a moment, brother,” he says to Memnon over his betrothed’s shoulder.“Thank you.”

My heart is thundering in my chest.

Zosines’s eyes briefly touch mine, and I swear they darken with some hidden emotion. It barely registers.

This isn’t right, I protest.

Roxi, if you are a warrior, you can claim however many spouses as you can hold on to, he says.

I remember that; of course I remember that. But I hate it as much as I hated seeing that boy walk in here asking to fight.

I do not like it.And I know I cannot immediately change these things, even with my position.

I know. But there are reasons for this practice.

I glance at Memnon, curious to know what those reasons could possibly be, when a hulking man wearing damp battle leathers, a sheathed axe, and a dagger stalks down the aisle, past the waiting line, right up to us.

The warriors that flank me and Memnon tense, several of them reaching for the hilts of their blades, but Memnon lifts a hand, halting them.

In front of us, rain drips from the warrior’s hair and skin, but he doesn’t seem to notice. His bloodshot eyes are focused solely on Memnon. He doesn’t bow before he begins to speak. “You dare to sit there and pretend to rule—you, who let your aging mother rule in your stead while you spent months away. You who have come back emasculated, your hair and beard cut like a prepubescent boy.

“It’s bad enough that you bring back a Roman bitch, but then you take her to wife and demand the rest of us call her queen.”

The man spits at me then, the glob of it landing less than an arm span from Ferox, whose tail flicks in response.

At my side, Memnon settles deeper into his throne, his posture almost irreverent. His eyes, however, are sharp as daggers as they narrow on the man. Down our bond, Memnon’s anger is rapidly expanding. I can feel it like an inferno in my chest.

“I won’t stand for it,” the warrior says.

“Is that a challenge?” Memnon asks, sounding bored. It’s an act. I can practically taste his rising bloodlust.

In response, the warrior withdraws his axe.

Memnon rises, then saunters forward as the warrior shifts his weight and adjusts his grip on his weapon. His power vibrates between us, barely leashed.

“You know, there’s a reason they call me Memnon the Indomitable,” he says softly. As he speaks, his magic reaches outand plucks the warrior’s axe from his hand, casting it aside as though he were swatting away a fly.

I forget to breathe, me and the rest of the room spellbound by this faceoff.

“The last people to speak ill of my wife were Roman soldiers and their centurion,” Memnon says, his voice far too calm. “All that’s left of them now are bones. Do you still wish to challenge me?”

I can feel how tightly wound his power is, how intensely he’s restraining it.

The warrior snarls, reaching for another sheathed blade and lunging for my husband.

I swallow a yelp as, rather than retreating from the attack, Memnon stepsintoit. Faster than I can follow, he draws his own dagger and, in one smooth stroke, shoves it through the warrior’s belly as the latter falls upon him.

The man slumps against Memnon, his breath coming out in choked rasps. Using whatever last reserves he has, he stabs Memnon in the side.

Now I do cry out, rising to my feet as fear floods my veins and power pours out of me. Through our bond, I can feel the throb of this wound, and I nearly clasp my side at the sensation. Memnon, however, appears unbothered.

My soul mate’s voice is clear and commanding when he says, “Disrespect me, and I will punish you. Disrespectyour queen, and I will kill you.” He drags his dagger up the warrior’s belly, splitting him open. The man’s ruined intestines spill out with his blood.

Memnon shoves his opponent away, the man’s body hitting the ground with a wet thump. Then, almost as an afterthought, he pulls the blade from his side, tossing the weapon aside.

To the nearby warriors, Memnon says, “Drag his body to the fields and leave him unburied.”

I rush over to him then, nearly tripping over Ferox in my haste, while around us, people stare, stupefied.