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I join in. Battle is brutal, but it’s also a rush of blood through my system, and…I can see why others enjoy this, even if it is terrible.

As we Sarmatians circle our horses back around, so too do our enemies.

Again and again, we rush at one another.

Using my magic, I knock Dacians off their horses and blow arrows sideways; I rip swords from hands and break the wooden shafts of spears.

And when a Sarmatian sweeps in to kill a Dacian I made vulnerable, I tell myself I didn’t really cause their death, just stopped them from harming Sarmatians.

At the center of the battlefield, I catch sight of Katiari. My sister-in-law is on her feet, her horse nowhere to be seen. Several Dacians swarm her. Already, I can see a massive gash on Katiari’s arm, and blood coats her thigh.

Alarm rises in me. I hadn’t thought to ward her earlier when we left, and if Memnon did, its effects must’ve already worn off. For a moment I hesitate, my morals around killing warring with my worry for Katiari’s safety.

I gather what power I can, funneling down my arms.

“ Protect my sister ,” I incant. “ Let no weapon harm her. ”

My magic leaves my palms and floods the air, the plumes of it moving across the battlefield and wrapping around Katiari just as several blades thrust at her. The weapons glance off her body, though the blows still drop her to her knees.

At her back, an enemy soldier wraps his arm around her neck, dragging her back, and?—

“ Die .” The spell is uttered before I even have time to think about it.

The Dacian’s head whips back, blood spraying from his neck.

My eyes move to the others.

“ Die, die, die. ” I mutter the death curse over and over, silent tears beginning to slip down my cheeks as I kill the Dacians surrounding Katiari until no more remain.

I wasn’t supposed to do this. I was merely meant to protect. I taste my own rising sickness at the back of my throat, but I don’t vomit.

Katiari’s safe. That’s all that matters.

The battlefield has descended into chaos. The low-lying fog churns as mounted warriors clash and foot soldiers fight in twisted clusters, the clang of their armor and the sounds of their screams filling the air.

I catch sight of Memnon on horseback, his body twisted in the saddle so he can shoot behind him.

For a moment, I can’t help but stare. His hair lifts in the wind, only the top of it held down by his circlet, and his eyes glow with his magic, the light of them cutting through the mist. He releases his arrow, then nocks another.

It’s only then that, to my horror, I notice the group of Dacians trailing him. Though Memnon’s arrow already took one out, more assailants amass, drawn in by the lure of killing Memnon the Indomitable.

I part my lips to utter that horrible death spell again when pain lances through my leg.

I gasp, reaching for my thigh, only to realize that the limb is fine.

My gaze returns to my husband.

Memnon! I cry out down our bond. Are you hurt?

No , he says in that low tone, the one I know is fueled by his magic. Are you all right?

Yes… I say, even as I continue to squeeze my leg against the sharp pain.

Horror dawns when I realize what I’m feeling.

Ferox .

I slide down the bond I share with my panther, and between one breath and the next, I’m staring out from feline eyes.

I pant, lying on my side on the outskirts of the battlefield, horses and men clashing nearby. An arrow protrudes from my upper leg, the head of it embedded deep within my muscle. I taste blood on my lips and my paws are wet with it.

With a jerk, I shift back into my own mind.

My wards failed him.

Are you all right? Memnon repeats, concern and some more dangerous emotion lacing his words.

I am , I say, fear creeping into my voice, but Ferox is not.

My magic whips out of me then, snaking between warriors and vanishing into the grass a short distance away, where I can just make out a dark lump amongst the tall stalks.

I throw myself off my horse and dash across the field, following the line of my magic. A couple of Dacians try to intercept me, and I mutter quick death curses, ending their lives without even getting a good look at them. So much for trying to avoid killing the enemy.

When I get to Ferox, I fall to my knees, placing a hand on his side.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur, fresh tears springing to my eyes.

Weakly, Ferox nudges my hand, and I think he’s telling me it’s all right.

My magic is just starting to sink into his when I hear a hiss?—

Ferox’s body jolts as another arrow sinks into his flesh, this one between his ribs.

I scream at the sight, shoving more power into him.

I need to make him a new ward.

“ Protect my panther from ? — ”

I hear the arrow a split second before it lodges into my back, throwing me forward, onto Ferox.

I gasp at the pain, which is so thick and sharp, it’s hard to breathe around. Or maybe I punctured a lung.

A roar echoes across the battlefield.

ROXI!

Another arrow hits Ferox, and again I scream.

Behind me, footfalls close in on us.

“Look what we have here,” a masculine voice says. “A queen and her little pet.”

COMING FOR YOU! HOLD FAST.

I will , I manage.

It’s hard to think through the pain and panic.

Wards. I focus on that one thing. I begin to form the words, blood trickling from my mouth. “Protect—us—” I can’t catch my breath… “From?—”

Fingers dig into my scalp, yanking me back by the hair.

Beneath me, Ferox growls.

“I’m going to cleave your head from your body, and then I’ll fuck this pretty mouth.” The Dacian pulls me against him, blade to my throat, and I scream as the movement breaks the arrow shaft jutting out of me and shoves the rest of it deeper into my torso.

I WILL END THEM ALL , Memnon raves.

The Dacian’s acrid breath is hot against my ear. “Or maybe I’ll fuck your mouth, then kill you.”

My eyes meet Ferox’s; his ears have flattened and his lips have curled back in a snarl. He growls low in his throat, his gaze fixed on the warrior at my back.

“Shut the fuck up!” The Dacian removes his sword from my neck and drives it into my panther’s flank.

I.

See.

Red.

My power explodes out of me, throwing the Dacian and nearby warriors back.

I straighten, a little blood trickling from my neck and lips, and I turn, my injuries all but forgotten as magic and wrath overwhelm me.

As soon as my eyes connect with the fallen Dacian, I lift a hand. “I hope the gods do not spare your soul. Die .”

His head recoils back as my magic rips through his jugular, blood arcing across the grass.

My rage should’ve abated with the Dacian’s death. Instead, it grows, and with it, the power building in my veins.

YESSS… Memnon croons.

Maybe it’s his power and wrath I’m consumed by. Maybe it’s my own. Whatever the cause, it feels as though my magic is a physical thing unto itself. It certainly acts like it, pushing the arrow from my body and sealing my injuries up, all while my eyes sweep over the battlefield.

There are already piles of bodies, many of them Sarmatian. Though the fighting is still ongoing, we are losing. To them . For every living Sarmatian I see, there are two to three more Dacians. Brutal, cunning Dacians. They would take everyone I love from me.

They need to die.

Yes.

I don’t know which one of us thinks the thoughts. Maybe both of us do so simultaneously. Hard to know where he ends and I begin.

I walk forward as though possessed, drawing my power in close. My eyes land on a cluster of Dacians, and my rage swells.

It is not enough to simply kill them. No. That will not satiate the dark urges inside of me.

The world goes still for a moment as another spell forms. Then?—

“ Annihilate .”

BOOM!

My magic fires out of me, exploding into the group of Dacians. Flesh is rent from limb to limb. Arms and legs, heads and helmets—all of it goes flying.

I look for another group. “ Annihilate .”

BOOM!

Blood and dirt, grass and viscera speckle the air. Beyond it and the haze of mist, I catch sight of Memnon, his eyes glowing, warriors collapsing, screaming in his wake as he rides toward me.

My husband pulls up short and swings off his horse, rushing over to my side. He cups my face and stares at me with those unnatural, glowing eyes. I gaze back at him, and though my hair doesn’t float and I don’t think my own irises glow, I feel my stare is equally unnatural.

His gaze scours mine. You’re okay?

Some of the haze peels away. They hurt Ferox. The rage is rising, darkening my vision.

His grip tightens. Then we will make them pay. Yes?

I give a curt nod. Yes, vengeance. I want that. Hunger for it. For what they did to Ferox, to me, to my family, to Memnon.

Then take your vengeance, my fierce queen. He kisses me hard. I taste blood on my lips as my mouth moves against his. And I will take mine .

With that, he withdraws from me, backing up to his steed. I stand there and watch him ride back into the fray until the mist swallows him up.

Turning, I head back to Ferox, who lies limp on the ground. Alive but barely.

It takes little effort to shove my magic back into him. “ Heal .”

One by one, those arrows pop out of him, and his wounds seal themselves up. All the while, my rage boils .

Once the last of his injuries mends itself, I place a new ward on him, then on myself.

Then, grimly, I rise, and with me, so does Ferox.

I glance down at him. “You don’t need to follow me.”

He does anyway.

I cut across the battlefield, full of retribution, Ferox at my side. Every time my eyes fall on a Dacian, I lift my hand and utter a single word:

“ Annihilate .”

The spell blows craters into the ground, it tears warriors apart, and it incites terror. The battlefield falls into panicked chaos, Dacians trying to escape. But on one end of the field is me, and the other is Memnon, his blue magic cutting our enemies apart.

Annihilate.

Annihilate, annihilate, annihilate. It becomes a macabre song on my bloody lips.