Around us, the other supernaturals are silent.

I do remember this part of the ritual, only when she did it last, the wound she made was on her sternum.

Memnon, I say uncertainly, reaching down our bond once more. My gaze is fixed to that line of blood.

What do you need from me, Empress?

I need for him to be here, but I cannot will him to come any faster than he already is, so I stay silent.

Lia moves around to the back of my chair and cuts away my bindings.

Before I can take a swing at her, her magic is there, restraining my arms. She grabs one of my hands and pries it free of her magical restraints.

Lia extends my arm out and slices her blade down my skin, parting the delicate flesh.

Memnon! I cry out now. Memnon!

“With blood I bind, with bone I break⁠—”

No, no, no!

She grabs my cut forearm and presses her own bloody one to mine, her expression determined.

WHAT IS HAPPENING?

I struggle against Lia. She’s placing a binding spell on me! I cry.

The other end of our bond goes still as death.

Then Memnon’s magic is flooding my system—an ocean of it pouring into me. Normally I have to reach for it to pull it through the bond, but it’s as though the sorcerer himself is shoving it all out.

With his magic comes warmth, devotion, love. I’m tired and weak, but I grasp what I can of his power and my own, and I funnel every bit of it down my arms and out my hands. A sluggish plume of orange and indigo magic releases, though it does nothing more than push Lia back a little. It’s not even enough to break her hold on me. I can still feel her blood mingling with mine.

Maiden, Mother, and Crone, this cannot be happening.

“Only through death shall I at last forsake.”

I scream as a new, intrusive bond forces its way through me, the magic slicing into my body.

“What I command, you shall obey. Your will is mine till your dying day.”

The pain of this bond is searing, but maybe that’s because, unlike the others, this one isn’t consensual.

It lodges itself behind my sternum, and its roots seem to burrow into my bones. My cheeks are wet, and I realize I’m still screaming. My throat is ragged from the sound.

For a moment, I feel Memnon right there, as close as he can be through the bond.

It’s quiet on his end, but from that silence comes…

Rage. Apoplectic rage.

So much rage. Enough to kill an army ten times over.

Beneath my sorrow and horror, I can sense the same determination that helped him fell kingdoms.

I am coming, he says again, but his voice is entirely different. Cold. Wrathful. They’ll pay.

“Leave us.” Lia says, dismissing the group of supernaturals without tearing her eyes from me.

The six individuals release their hands and wordlessly file out of the room. There’s not a single sound except for my ragged sobs, and I think I might hate these supernaturals as much as I do Lia. They cannot all be as evil as she is, yet they participated in such an act.

Maybe they’re bonded just as I am.

The thought draws another ragged cry out of me.

Once the door clicks shut behind them, Lia’s magical hold on me loosens. Without it pinning me in place, I sink off the chair and onto the cold concrete floor.

My cries trail off, but I’m now heaving in breaths as I bow my head.

Lia steps up to me. I can see the pointed tips of her heels.

“My, my, you are a powerful witch. No one warned me about that. They all said you were weak, forgetful. An easy target but a poor asset.” She taps the toe of one of her shoes against the bare floor. “And what is this?” She looks at me, but her eyes are unfocused. She tilts her head. “Another bond?” She frowns. “Two bonds?”

The fact that she can sense any bonds besides hers is horrifying.

She takes me by the jaw and tilts my head up. “I cannot allow them to exist.” There’s a gleeful gleam in her eyes. “That would complicate things. Your first true task once I release you tonight will be to sever each of those bonds the first chance you get.”

I press a hand to my sternum as her malevolent power digs in, and I begin to heave, over and over, as it forces its intentions upon me.

Memnon could survive such an assault, but sweet, cranky Nero, who’s waiting for me even now…

I heave again.

No, no, no.

Plum-colored magic spills from Lia, giving her an ominous backdrop. “Let’s go over the basics. You will never harm me,” she commands, the order slipping straight down the bond and into me. “You will do everything in your power to protect and serve me.”

My fingers dig into the skin over my sternum. I can feel Lia in me just as I can Memnon. But where Memnon’s magical presence is familiar and comforting, Lia’s magical imprint feels like a violation.

She comes over to me then and places a hand on my head. I want to knock it away, but one of her commands activates and stops me.

I grind my teeth together, my body bowed beneath her touch.

Her deep purple magic trickles over me, then into me, and I’m powerless to stop it. But as it slips down my throat and into my body, I feel it driving out the effects of the drug in my system. I can feel my own magic swarm me again, and my control over it sharpens.

“I imagine that feels better, doesn’t it?” she asks from above me.

I press my lips together.

“Answer me.”

“Yes,” I hiss out.

Her hand slides from my head. “Why don’t we have a demonstration of what it means to be bonded to me?”

I hear the click of her heels as she moves away from me.

“Bow to me.”

It’s not even a choice. Her power forces my body to obey. I bend forward at the waist, my arms stretching out in front of me. I press my palms into the cold concrete.

“Now crawl over and kiss my feet.”

This is a nightmare, I think as I move across the ground to her.

Finally I understand her motives for healing me. If I were still injured, I would be incapable of doing these degrading acts. Lia obviously knows there’s more than one way to hurt someone.

I press a kiss to the top of her foot, every fiber of me rejecting this moment. Lia yanks her leg back, out of my reach, and kicks my face, sending me sprawling backward.

I taste blood in my mouth as my head cracks against the concrete.

“Thank me for hurting you.”

I can hear the glee in her voice. This evil motherfucker.

“Thank you for hurting me.” The words are pried from my throat.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Lia smile, her eyes narrowed. “Get up.”

My legs position themselves under me, and I rise.

“That’s better,” she says, assessing me.

I try to lunge at her, but that same insidious magic moves through me, seizing up my muscles before I can do more than lean forward. She doesn’t even notice.

She glances to the corner of the room, where the clay monster waits in the shadows.

“Creature, come here.”

I tense as I watch it approach. On its forehead, that same archaic word I saw the night of the spell circle. I couldn’t remember it’s name or meaning then, because I thought it was Aramaic. But it’s not. There’s another language that shares the same alphabet as Aramaic—Hebrew.

The Hebrew word I’m looking at is emet.

Truth.

It was one of a few hundred words I learned of Hebrew before my first life was cut short. The sight of it now pricks my skin. This is ancient magic at play.

When the creature gets to her, Lia reaches out and touches its cheek tenderly. “Though I have many bonds,” she says, “I don’t have a familiar. My creature here is the closest thing that comes to one.”