Every Never After by Lesley Livingston

Author:Lesley Livingston
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group (Canada)

13

When Marcus finally returned, Allie wasn’t sure how much time had passed. She’d fallen into a fitful doze, emotionally and physically exhausted. She hadn’t even heard him come into the tent. She just opened her eyes and there he was, a clothcovered wooden tray in his hands. It might have been the smell of fresh-baked bread that had woken her up—the scent of it wafted from the tray as he crouched down, set it in front of her, and then whisked away the cloth. Arranged on the wooden slab was a small, round loaf of bread, a yellow pear, a chunk of what looked like some kind of hard cheese, and a little silver cup half-full of rich red wine. Allie thought she might actually start to drool right then and there. She’d missed lunch at the Rifleman the day before with Clare and Milo … and she hadn’t eaten since.

She looked up at Marcus. “Thank you.”

As he slid the tray toward her she reached out with both manacled hands to grab the still-warm bread. The first bite made her think she’d never tasted anything so delicious in her life. Bread in the twenty-first century should be ashamed of itself.

Marcus grinned at her. “There’s a saying: ‘The Roman Legion travels on its stomach.’ We get pretty good grub. Good for morale and keeping up strength. Although, with the way the scathach raids have kept away our supply trains, we’ll be dining on peat moss and swamp water soon enough.”

“Are you going to get in trouble with that centurion for this?” Allie asked through a mouthful of pear and cheese—which was sharp and tangy and perfectly complemented the fruit.

Marcus shrugged. “Only if he finds out.”

Allie figured the best way to avoid that was to leave no evidence behind. She took another bite of pear and wrapped a chunk of cheese in bread and stuffed that in her mouth, too. Marcus watched her for a moment and then stood abruptly. He started pacing, glancing every now and then toward the tent flap where the guard stood. Then he stalked back and lobbed a question at her that was completely, one hundred percent, straight out of left field.

“Name the lead singer from Duran Duran.”

Allie blinked at him, and swallowed the mouthful of wine she’d just sipped. It was slightly on the vinegary side, but she wasn’t about to complain to the maitre d’.

“You’re kidding me,” she said.

He stooped suddenly and snatched away the platter with the rest of Allie’s lunch on it. Her stomach clenched in protest.

“If you come from where I think you come from, you’ll know the answer,” Marcus snapped. “If you don’t, you’re a creature of that Druidess witch Mallora and a liar and I will let them come in here and cut you to pieces to find out what they need.”

His lips were drawn back from his teeth in a kind of snarl and Allie knew he meant what he said. But she also knew she was tired of him trying to intimidate her.

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