The Last Roman: Exile by B.K. Greenwood

Author:B.K. Greenwood [Greenwood, B.K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bat City Press
Published: 2021-05-28T22:00:00+00:00

The sun was just a memory by the time they docked at one of the many wooden piers located beneath the city's watchful eye. Marcus waited for the crew to disembark before he exited down the gangplank. He would come back later for his chest. But as he left the dock, a figure called from the shadows.

"Nice fighting, for a Roman." A familiar female voice called to him.

Marcus stopped and peered at the stranger. They were shorter and wore a dark cloak to blend in with the night.

"Thanks, I get lucky sometimes."

"I doubt you leave much to luck." As Marcus moved closer, the stranger shifted to stay in the shadows. "Why are you here?"

"I'm looking for someone."

"Who?"

"You."

"How did you know?" Isabella stepped from the shadows and lowered her hood. Her face was covered with dirt, and her hair cut short, trying to mask her femininity. It did not work.

"When you moved, you shifted your weight," he grinned, "exactly how I taught you."

She moved forward and hugged him, whispering into his ear, "It's good to see you."

Marcus pulled her body to his, her head resting on his chest. He closed his eyes and smelled the jasmine in her hair. His hands lingered on her back, not wanting to let her go. As they gently swayed in the darkness, the splinter of guilt remained deep in his soul. It was matched by his irritation. He had seen or done unspeakable things and had always buried his feelings of guilt or shame. He knew it wasn't healthy, but it was the only way for him to stay sane. It frustrated him that he could not do the same with Isabella. Why couldn't he compartmentalize his feelings for her?

He let go, leaned back, and looked into her eyes. "I missed you."

She winked back at him. "Enough to volunteer for a suicide mission?"

"You're here."

"Where else would I be?"

Marcus grinned. She was as strong and confident as ever. "How bad is it?"

"Let's get something to eat, and I'll fill you in." Without waiting, she headed toward the city walls.

They soon found themselves standing outside a shabby-looking tavern, inconspicuous in its plainness. Languages may differ, but men gather in local pubs to consume prodigious amounts of alcohol in any corner of the world. Some go to enjoy the company of others; some to escape the company at home. Often it was both.

Marcus held open the door as Isabella stepped into the dark interior. As expected, the pub was devoid of its regular patrons, most of whom were manning the city walls. A few older men huddled near the empty fireplace were engaged in a quiet conversation and paid them no heed as they crossed the dim room and sat down at a corner table. A seasoned barmaid in a plain white and tan dress approached them as they settled in.

"Back again?"

"Of course, best meat pie in the city," Isabella replied.

"Doesn't say much. What can I get you?"

"We'll have two pints of ale and two of those pies."

"Very well.

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