“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.” It’s quiet between us, with only the fire’s final crackles filling the air. “So which is it?” I finally murmur. “Are you kind and gentle or ferocious and violent?” Memnon searches my face. “I’m all of it,” he admits sorrowfully. The weight of that confession looks heavy. “And I am sorry for it.” He bows his head. “But all of me—all my power, all that you love and fear about me—I lay it at your feet. It is yours.”
