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“My king! My queen!”

I jolt awake; the transition happens so rapidly that my mind is still halfway immersed in my dream when I sit up and blink out at the darkness. Like me, Memnon sits up quickly.

Muttering a spell, light blooms in his hand, the bluish orb of it floating up to the top of the tent like a seed on the wind.

Itaxes rushes into our tent, breathing hard. “Attacked!” he calls out. “We are being attacked!”

Memnon hastily throws the covers off, rising from the bed. I’m quick to follow, my heart hammering against my rib cage.

“From what direction?” Memnon asks as he heads to our chests to retrieve clothes, armor, and weapons. I’m his shadow, echoing his movements as I open my own chest.

“Northeast,” answers the man, his form ghostly under Memnon’s bluish light. “They’re heading for our main entrance. But they could have easily sent some fighters to the back to drive us out.”

I glance to the darkened wagon, looking for Ferox, but the room appears empty. Panic claws up my throat. Swiftly, I slip down our connection until I’m staring out my panther’s eyes. I crouch in the wild grass outside the settlement, staring back at the city.

Thank the gods, he’s safe. For now.

Stay here , I order Ferox.

I withdraw from him, my awareness returning to the tent.

“Rouse everyone you can, starting with the warriors,” Memnon commands Itaxes as he quickly dresses. “Send someone to wake my mother and sister as well; they will handle logistics within the settlement. And tell any able-bodied adult to grab what weapons they can and fight.”

Itaxes nods, then dashes from our tent.

My eyes meet Memnon’s. Before either of us can speak, the whoosh of fire roars in the distance, and screams start up.

The breath in my lungs stills. The past is a terrible song that sometimes sings to me of old horrors. I hear it now.

Memnon shakes his head. “Tonight will not be like the last attack you lived through,” he swears to me, speaking with all the authority of a king and a commander.

I nod, swallowing.

He nods along with me, and then his gaze moves to the clothes still clutched in my hands. He jerks his chin in their direction. “Get dressed, my queen,” he commands.

I nod again, then do so with fumbling fingers while he moves to another chest that holds his weapons.

When Memnon turns back to me, it’s with a bow and gorytos. He uses his magic to secure them to my body.

“Now grab your boots,” he says.

If this were any other time, any other situation, I might think his commands were silly, even overbearing. But right now, when fear and adrenaline cloud my mind, I’m grateful for them. I stumble over to where I set my boots last night and pull them on.

Outside, the shrill screams and crackling fire are growing sharper, closer .

When I rise, Memnon’s there, his weapons and armor strapped to him, looking wrathfully beautiful, his eyes eerily illuminated by that blue orb of light. His gaze sweeps over me, and through our bond, I feel his thick, rich approval.

Memnon drags me to him and crushes his lips to mine. But it lasts only for a moment.

He pulls away, still cupping my face. “Look at you,” he says, his eyes appraising my outfit and the weapons strapped to it. I can see the pride in his eyes. “You look like the vengeful goddess I feared you were.”

I certainly don’t feel that way. Not when the sour tang of my own terror sits at the back of my throat.

His expression turns serious, and my barely banked fear is rising again, threatening to swallow me whole.

“I am going to ride out with my warriors, and together we’ll drive back as many enemy fighters as we can, drawing them out of our city, then battling them on the plains.”

I’m nodding—or maybe I’m shaking my head. I’m a child with childish worries and thoughts and I cannot, cannot?—

Memnon grips the side of my face. “You can ,” Memnon says, giving me a firm shake and disrupting my chaotic thoughts.

He tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear. “The children and the elderly will be led to the main tent behind the clearing,” he says. “There they will be vulnerable. Protect them.”

Again, my eyes well, and I’m afraid. So afraid.

“You don’t need to be afraid. You are not that child anymore. But now there are others, and they are counting on you .”

My stomach drops at that.

He pulls me in and kisses me fiercely, his lips devouring mine. But the contact is over before it’s begun, all that fire and passion and desperation touching my lips for mere moments.

“I need to go,” he says, backing away.

“Memnon!” I call out after him, fear rising like a leviathan.

“The vulnerable, my queen,” he reminds me. “Please, help them.”

The fire is roaring louder, both in my head and outside it, and the screams are mounting.

“Don’t die!” I plead. My voice breaks as I say it. I cannot endure that loss.

At the doorway, Memnon glances over his shoulder. “I wouldn’t dare .”

Then he slips through the tent flaps, and he’s gone.

I stumble out of the tent, my bow and gorytos slapping against me uselessly. People are screaming and running, entire neighborhoods engulfed in flame.

The taste of smoke and ash clings to my tongue, and my eyes water from the sting of it all.

Gods above and below, this is my past relived.

Through the melee, I catch sight of the raiders. The enemy is on horseback, weapons in hand, shouting hair-raising war cries.

I see one such fighter nock an arrow wrapped in oiled linen. He steers his horse toward a nearby tent, clearly intending to light his arrow on fire.

Since the moment I woke, I’ve been drowning in fear, but now, it is utterly eclipsed by a dormant, vengeful part of me. The same part of me that watched my mother die, my brother die, and my father die. The part of me that watched my sister disappear into smoke and darkness.

The part of me that was taken captive long ago.

All the pain and rage I’ve locked away like a prisoner flood down my arms, coiling as I set my sights on the enemy warrior.

I release it in a wordless burst, aiming across the way at him. I don’t know what I expect when it hits the mounted archer, but certainly not for it to cleanly cleave his head from his body.

For several seconds I stand there, horrified, as his head topples off and his torso slumps over, blood spraying out of the neck. I gag as I process what just happened, what I just did .

But there are more mounted fighters rushing by, ones who hold more weapons and are using them to cut down civilians like myself. So when one such warrior gallops toward me, blade brandished, I wipe my mouth and straighten, my magic rising once more.

I’m still angry, still full of pain, and not even my horror can smother this burning violence inside me. When I was a child, I could not fight back. I could not protect my family or anyone else.

Now I can.

A cry rips from my throat and my magic lashes out, slicing through the oncoming rider. His horse rears up, fire glinting in its spooked eyes as half the man’s body tumbles off the saddle, his blood and innards spilling across the ground.

My nausea rises swiftly this time—too swiftly—and I turn and retch.

Killed them. I killed them.

Powerful queen , Memnon says down our bond. Protecting our people. I could not be prouder.

A sob slips from me, even as his words hold me together. Don’t you dare die on me , I tell him again . I’ve now seen just how easy it is to lose one’s life in battle.

Wouldn’t dream of it, Roxilana. But that threat goes both ways. Stay safe.

I nod. I will , I vow, despite having no business making promises on such things.

I take a deep breath, pulling myself together, then sprint down the winding paths that lead to the settlement’s main tent.

Around me, the city is a sea of flames, the heat so intense I begin to sweat from it.

I reach out a hand. “ Douse the fire !” I incant.

My magic leaps from my hand, looking like another plume of fire-fueled smoke as it moves to the actual flames. Within moments, it smothers them.

I don’t have time to see more than that.

The clearing and the large tent beyond it are up ahead. People are streaming to it, and I can hear wails and whimpers coming from inside. Worse, a couple of enemy riders have discovered it and are circling around the structure.

Twenty paces ahead of me, one such fighter strikes down a mother and the small child she carries in her arms.

My shriek sounds unholy, and my power reacts without conscious intention, streaming out of me and splitting the warrior in two.

I dash to the woman and child, placing my hands on their bloody bodies. I don’t know how badly either of them are hurt.

“ Heal their wounds, seal the skin ,” I incant.

One of the other riders shouts, then points in our direction.

Must get to the tent.

Grabbing mother and child, I drag them with me toward the structure.

An arrow whizzes by, so close I hear it hiss near my ear.

“ Give me strength and speed ,” I incant under my breath. Immediately, the weight of the two becomes more bearable and my legs move faster.

I’m nearly to the tent’s entrance when?—

THWUMP.

I cry out, falling into the tent, mother and child spilling from my arms, as an arrow embeds itself in the flesh between my neck and shoulder.

Several people inside the tent rush to my side.

“Help them, help them!” I say, pointing to the two individuals I carried in here.

Blood streams from my shoulder wound, and it hurts like the gods’ wrath, but I pay it no mind as I turn back to the doorway.

Pressing a hand to the felt wall of it, I incant. “ Make this structure impervious to fire. ” I’ve no sooner spoken that spell than I begin another: “ Let no enemy come within. ”

“Roxi!” Tamara calls out behind me, concern in her voice.

I don’t bother turning to look at my mother-in-law. “ Make the walls of this tent strong as stone. ”

Layer upon layer of my orange magic fan out, spreading over the vast space. I can see the web of wards crisscross over the fabric, looking like glittering lace.