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I scream and scream and scream until I vomit, and then I scream some more.
It’s the wrong reaction. It always is.
Her words are nothing I haven’t already heard, but they still land like another blow to the head.
Just because you said that, I’m going to make sure I live, he says.
I’ve had to listen to your voice for years, and you could never hear me when I told you to shut up. I’m sure you can bear it for a day.
Hello, Roxi, he replies. I have to bite my lip to smother my smile. I haven’t even had my name for a full breath, and you’re already shortening it?
Yes, well, you’re less terrifying as Roxi, Memnon says. Roxilana might cut my heart out of my chest, but Roxi…Roxi sounds like…a friend.
Whatever fanciful daydream I made of Memnon, it’s been toppled by harsh, disappointing reality. The boy in my mind is just as bad as the rest of them.
People live much worse lives, I admit. Ignoring the hunger pains in my stomach and the bruises on my arms. I don’t care about other people, little witch.
You have me, he eventually says, his tone gentling. I care about you.
You can always talk to me, Roxi, even if you’re mad at me. Even if you despise me. He pauses. Will you do that? Will you speak to me, even in anger? Because I don’t think I can take more of your silence.
Roxilana? Memnon says softly. I am still here with you. He sounds like he’s been there the whole time, sitting in the back of my mind, keeping me company the only way he can.
You don’t have to worry about anyone hurting you ever again, little witch, he says with conviction.
You are the only thing that matters to me in this godsforsaken world. The confession burns coming out, but it doesn’t matter. There is iron in my soul. I won’t let you die, Memnon. Not today.
Use my magic, Memnon, I command, shoving it out to him the same way I do my thoughts. It is yours.
So long as I am alive, you will never die, I vow. I won’t lose Memnon like I did my family.
I wish I could be there and hold you in my arms until all your pain and sadness were gone. I sit down on the edge of my bed, more tears stinging my eyes. He continues, I would whisper into your ear all the ways you are incredible. Because you are. You are the most incredible part of me,
Roxi, you are my first and last thought each day. I have longed for you more than I care to admit—not just as my friend and confidant but also as my lover and wife and amage.
We were meant to be together. I am yours, Roxilana. Just say you will have me.
Little witch, he continues. I’m coming for you.
Your voice is lovelier than I could’ve imagined. I cannot wait to see you.
He’s the most foreign and ferocious person I’ve ever gazed upon. He’s also the most beautiful—if something so obviously deadly could be called beautiful.
There’s not enough air to breathe, and a deep part of me is sure my life only started now, at this very moment.
I could spend a hundred years studying him and I’m sure it would not be enough.
“I have crossed rivers and kingdoms, I have fought armies and bandits to be here before you. For you are mine and I am yours, and those are my soul’s deepest truths.”
“You rode into Rome armed and dressed for battle, yet you don’t want war? How very interesting.” Memnon says nothing to that, though to me he admits, I wanted to impress you.
You’re safe, little witch, he says softly down our bond.
Across from me, Memnon smiles so big, it seems to reach every corner of his face, and it transforms him from a menace into something else entirely.
For as intimately as I’ve known Memnon’s mind, physically, he’s still a stranger to me.
You will wear the riches of my empire, and you will ride astride my horse as my people do, and you will show these people that you were made to rule my warriors.”
How to explain his touch? Like a memory and a dream rolled into one. It’s equal parts thrilling and comforting.
You may have been raised Roman, but your heart is all Sarmatian.
Maybe I am simply protecting us, little witch, and I have absolutely no regrets at all.
It’s kind of him to assume I’m even capable of forming a coherent response.
The criticisms burn to ash under the adoring gaze of this man, who is looking at me like he might memorize my features.
Memnon, my old friend and confidant, who cared for me when no one else did and whom I’ve loved for a very, very long time.
I thought I’d never leave that city. I’ve never been so happy to be wrong.
I can’t directly look at him, I’ve realized. When I do so, I start to blush or else I simply stare.
He laughs again, and I’m suddenly greedy for that laugh. I want to capture it, bottle it up so I can listen to it at whim.
“If making wards together means you’ll look at me this way again, then gods, yes, my queen, we can make all the wards in the world.”
I’ll never make it to Sarmatia—I won’t, not when I’m certain I’ll die of happiness first.
“I have become a little obsessed with the thought of you adorned in flowers. I did so like the crown of them you wore when we married.”
Memnon killed him for insulting me.
Memnon’s magic is entirely different with me. Supple and soft, it flows over me, running itself through my hair and down my skin like fingers.
“Your magic didn’t hurt me.” Or Ferox, for that matter. He gives me a sad smile. “It is incapable of doing such a thing. Every bit of me loves you. Even the wretched parts.”
would not know the first thing about ruling. I am unfit to be the wife of the Sarmatian king, and soon all his people will know.
“You couldn’t make me hate it if you tried,”
I don’t think I’m capable of denying Memnon anything at this point.
All will be well, little witch, he says, adoration tinging his words. I am right here with you. Always with you.
Perhaps I do not look like an imposter. Perhaps I do look like someone worthy of their king.
