I glanced at Roman. Deep bruised lines gave his face a haunted expression.

  I reached out and stroked his cheek. “You must be exhausted. Why don’t you rest? I could use some more sleep, too.”

  I looked at him, hunger in my gaze. How I’d love to be naked next to him, exploring one another….

  His expression turned smoldering. But now was not the time.

  “I’d like nothing more,” he said, “but someone must always stand watch.”

  “I’ll do it,” Marcellious murmured in a sleepy voice. He opened his eyes. “I feel better from the herbs and the food. Thank you,” he said to Emily.

  “No need to thank me,” she said. “Olivia caught the hare. You should thank her instead.”

  Marcellious said nothing as he pushed to sitting.

  I sighed. His attitude toward me hadn’t improved.

  “Go,” Marcellious said, shooing me with his hand. “Get your rest. The sooner we mend and find a place to land, the sooner we can separate.”

  “God, Marcellious. Give your perpetually bad mood a rest,” I said.

  Roman and I moved to the other side of the fire. I lay next to him, cradled in his arms.

  Emily rested near the fire, keeping a close eye on Marcellious.

  Roman’s breathing grew slow and deep.

  As nightfall descended and the fire flickered, dying out, I caught movement in the woods. A dark figure, appearing like a shadow, stared back at me.

  I squinted, making out a man’s outline. He looked the same height as Roman, and his body rippled with power. He was dressed all in black, making it impossible to tell what he truly looked like. But all that power—it rolled from him in waves.

  I tensed, shuddering in Roman’s arms, and started to push upright. The shadow vanished.

  My heart plummeted. It seemed the darkness had found me.

  Olivia

  I barely slept a wink that night. Wolves or coyotes howled, their song like banshees. Owls hooted and sailed overhead on whisper-soft wings. Every snap of a branch had me on high alert as I waited for the darkness to return.

  The only comfort I took came from pressing myself into Roman’s delicious warmth each time I woke up. I’d snuggle into him or find him pulling me close, his arm wrapped firmly around me. It was like we had to keep touching one another to ensure that this moment was real—we had found one another through time and space. We had discovered each other once more.

  When I woke up with the sun piercing the morning, Roman was nowhere to be found. Nor was Marcellious. Even Emily was gone.

  Panic overtook me. Had Roman really been by my side last night, or had I dreamed it?

  The sight of Marcellious emerging from the woods, a scowl on his face, told me I hadn’t imagined it.

  I sat up, stretching the ache from my limbs.

  Marcellious carried an armload of firewood. The soldier’s jacket I’d lent him was wrapped around his torso, but he still wore the loincloth. When he stood by the cold campfire, he dropped the wood with a clatter.

  “Where’s Roman? Where’s Emily?” I said, pushing to stand. I wore the soldier’s trousers with my stola tucked into the waistband. But, having given the jacket to Marcellious, my arms were bare and covered with insect bites.

  Only Emily and Roman had decent attire on. We’d have to find a way to remedy that to survive the bug bites and night chill.

  Marcellious said nothing to me.

  “Hello. Marcellious. Anyone home?”

  His brow bunched together in confusion.

  I sometimes forgot that the colloquialisms of my time didn’t translate to other centuries. “Have you purposefully ignored my questions or lost your hearing?”

  He drew back his lip in a sneer. “I have nothing to say to you.”

  “Quit being an ass, Marcellious.” I moved closer to him until we stood face to face. “How’s your wound? You seem less pale than yesterday.”

  “Isn’t that wonderful?” he said sarcastically. “She says I’m less pale than yesterday. That implies that I’m grateful to her for loaning me her jacket and Roman for pulling me out of the stream.”

  I rolled my eyes. “God help us if you were to actually thank us for being nice to you.”

  “Why the hell should I be nice to you? I didn’t ask to be here. You simply took it upon yourself to transport my so-called brother and me to another time and place—a loathsome time and place, I might add.”

  He lifted his hand, dismissed me, and started to walk away.

  I lunged, snagging his coat sleeve. “Don’t just walk away from me. I want answers from you!”

  He whirled and yanked the sleeve from my grip. “Don’t you fucking touch me, bitch.”

  His face appeared ugly with rage.

  I stepped back, surprised.

  “How dare you bring me back to this place? Ever since I met you, you’ve been nothing but trouble.” He leaned forward, like a foul wind, trying to blow me over with his words. “How dare you bring me here without my permission?”

  “We’ve already been over this, Marcellious. You’re only repeating yourself, like a one-note song.”

  Rage flared in his eyes. “You ruined my life!”

  “I did nothing of the sort!” I gave him a hard shove.

  He stumbled back, recovered, then countered with a shove of his own.

  “I saved your life by getting you out of Rome!” I shouted, regaining my balance. “You were a nobody in Rome, a lap dog to the emperor and his whims. You weren’t a free man but an enslaved person serving the emperor.”

  “I didn’t want to leave Rome!” His face was purple with anger. “No matter who I was there, I could have left Rome anytime I wanted. But I stayed in Rome because of her, and now you separated me from her!”

  My arms dropped by my side, and I stared at him, blinking.

  “I don’t know who you are talking about,” I said in a softer voice.

  “Theadora!” He sounded anguished.

  Roman stepped toward the meadow, his hair dripping wet as if he’d cleansed himself in the stream. He frowned as he strode toward us.

  “Who’s Theadora?” I said.

  “The woman I loved and cared about the most. The woman who was killed because of me. And now you have ripped her away from me forever.” Marcellious turned away from me and hung his head.

  As Roman approached us, he said, “Why are you talking about Theadora?”

  “You know Theadora?” I said.

  “She was Amara’s daughter.” Roman’s brows bunched together as he regarded Marcellious.

  “Amara’s daughter?” I said to Marcellious. “Wait a minute. You and Amara’s daughter were together…as in lovers?”

  Marcellious shuddered, and he clenched his hands into fists like he was going to pummel someone. “She was my life! She was my world! She was everything to me, and now you have separated me from her!”

  Roman drew back in surprise. “You and Theadora?”

  “Yes, me and Theadora,” Marcellious yelled. “She gave me joy once until she was taken from me—both her and my unborn child. I wanted to remain in Rome, just to be close to her.”

  “But...but…she’s dead, Marcellious,” Roman said.

  “I know she’s dead! But I knew her in Rome, not here. This is the last place I want to be—I was miserable here. Everyone I knew betrayed me. I’d rather be anywhere but here.”

  Emily emerged from the trees, her arms laden with greens.

  I lowered my voice and said, “Marcellious, I’m sorry for your losses and pain. I never meant to cause you more trouble and sorrow. I didn’t know how much she meant to you. But we need to know what you were doing here. It sounds like you used to live here. How did you end up in Rome? What happened here that was so despicable?”

  Marcellious spun in my direction like a trapped beast, fangs bared and claws extended. “Why should I tell you anything? What good will it do me to tell you?”

  Spit flew from his mouth as he shouted.

  “You, me, and Olivia are all Timebornes. We shouldn’t be fighting but come together as allies,” Roman said. “Keeping secrets about your life and who you are will get you nowhere.”

  Marcellious sneered and looked away from Roman.

  “Marcellious, I need answers from you,” I said. “If it wasn’t for the crazy chants you sang when you captured me and me finding your dagger in a prison cell, we wouldn’t be here. Instead, you and Roman would be dead by now. I saved you, Emily healed you, and we only want answers.”

  Marcellious started to stalk away, but Roman caught his arm.

  “Look,” Roman said. “You’ve been acting like an ass ever since we got here. If you don’t start talking, I will make your bullet wound feel like the best thing that ever happened to you. I’m sick of you. In Rome, you held Olivia captive. You forced me to be in servitude to the emperor. You made me kill my best friend. Now, we’re here, like it or not. Give us some answers, damn it!”

  Marcellious took a swing at Roman but missed him. His face contorted with pain.

  Emily dropped her bundle of greens and ran toward us. “Stop! Stop!”

  Roman swung at Marcellious and connected with his jaw.

  Marcellious stumbled backward, falling into Emily.

  Emily screamed as they both fell to the ground. She pushed Marcellious off her. “Stop this! You’re still badly injured!”

  Marcellious rolled over and pinned her to the ground. “Don’t you dare tell me to stop! You are nothing to me.”

  I was so wrong about Marcellious. Nothing was redeeming inside him, and I regretted bringing him here. It had all been a big mistake.

  I charged toward Marcellious at the same time as Roman. I grabbed Marcellious’ jacket and tried to yank him off of Emily.

  Roman pushed me aside, seized Marcellious by the waist, and hauled him to his feet.

  Something rocketed past my head and struck a nearby tree with a thwack.

  I whipped my head to see what it was. My eyes widened in alarm at the quivering arrow stuck in the side of the tree trunk.

  “Oh, God! We’re under attack!” I cried out as another arrow flew toward me. I threw myself to the ground, avoiding the strike by the deadly barb.

  “Savages!” Emily screamed.

  “Go for cover!” Roman yelled.

  We all scrambled for the trees.

  It was no use. We were surrounded in all directions by Native Americans, their faces smeared with warpaint.

  We’d gone from dire circumstances to worse ones. If I thought ancient Rome was brutal, America in the 1800s was a close contender.

  How would we ever escape?

  Olivia

  Native Americans slid from the trees like shadows until we were surrounded by at least ten men, all wielding arrows or tomahawks aimed at us. The men’s torsos were bare, and their chests and faces were painted with red and black symbols. Their intent to kill us rolled from them in giant waves.

  Roman, Marcellious, Emily, and I backed toward one another, making a tight circle in the center of the warriors.

  A breeze whistled through the trees, blowing my hair in my face.

  I brushed the strands back, not wanting anything to distract me. I tried to scan my surroundings, looking for a means of escape.

  These men were formidable, muscular, and lithe—and they were closing in on us.

  “What are we going to do?” Emily whispered. She reached for my hand.

  I gave her a squeeze for courage, then withdrew my hand.

  “I don’t know,” I whispered. “Roman? Ideas? Think we can make peace with them?”

  Roman’s face had hardened into his gladiator expression, intense and deadly. “They don’t want peace, Olivia. What we have to do is fight.”

  The Native Americans stepped closer, tightening their circle.

  I became acutely aware of the absence of sounds in the forest. No birds sang, no animals pushed through the underbrush… I could barely make out the gurgling stream.

  The two Native Americans facing me looked to be about my height. Their muscles were sinewy and well-developed.

  I had no doubt they would fight me to the death if I gave them the opportunity. I had to employ my wiles.

  In Rome, I’d trained with Roman. We’d shared our unique fighting skills with one another until we were each infinitely more effective. And we’d learned to sense one another’s movements and strengths. It even seemed like we could read one another’s thoughts.

  I glanced over at Roman.

  He looked at me and gave me an almost imperceptible nod.

  I echoed the nod and assumed a wide-legged fighting stance.

  Roman did the same.

  I launched into a roundhouse kick and caught one of the Sioux in the face.

  His face widened in shock as he tottered backward and fell against a tree. His expression contorted into one of rage. He pulled away from the tree and attacked, head down, ready to take me down.

  I caught his head and jacked my knee into his face. I felt the solid connection of bone on bone as my kneecap hit his teeth and upper jaw with a crunch.

  He howled and righted himself, his mouth a bloody rictus of pain.

  Two other Native Americans uttered piercing war cries and charged me, tomahawks waving.

  I ducked to avoid the sharp blades.

  Another grabbed my hair and yanked, forcing my head backward.

  A knife came into view, wielded by the man who gripped my hair.

  I seized his wrist and fought with all my might to keep the blade away from my throat.

  Roman came up behind him, wrapping his arm around the man’s neck in a grappling chokehold.

  The Native American jabbed Roman’s side with his elbow. At the same time, he brought his leg up and kicked straight back into Roman’s thigh.

  With a loud “oof,” Roman released his attacker.

  I grabbed another man in a bear hug, biting down on his sweaty neck.

  He wrenched his elbows back and forth like a tornado, breaking my hold. Then, he whirled around, seized my arm, and twisted it behind my back.

  Sharp pain rocketed through my muscles. I was shoved and sent flying to the ground, flat on my stomach.

  The warrior climbed on my back, straddling me. He seized my hair and gathered it into a bunch.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a knife in his other hand.

  Oh, hell no. I got my hands beneath me and shoved with all my might, managing to get to my hands and knees, knocking him off balance.

  In front of me, a warrior raced toward Marcellious from behind. He slammed his fist into Marcellious’ face.

  Marcellious’ whole body torqued to the side, and he landed in a heap on the ground with an ear-splitting cry of pain.

  We were getting nowhere with our attackers.

  Two men came at me from either side.

  I got a good roundhouse kick into the man on my right. The man on my left threw himself at me, and we flew to the ground.

  He began pummeling my face with his fist.

  I couldn’t get a good hold of any of his body parts. Just as the lights started to go out and I began to fade from consciousness, Roman yelled and viciously kicked the man’s kidneys.

  My attacker rolled away from me and took off after Roman.

  One of the Natives grabbed Emily, and she let out a shriek.

  “Help me!” She writhed in his grip.

  “Emily, no!” I raced for her, but a Native warrior caught me around the waist.

  Marcellious, Roman, and I were good fighters, but not in a ten-to-three ratio, with one of us badly injured—Marcellious.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him struggling with two Natives, clearly at a disadvantage.

  I kicked and fought, held tightly by my captor.

  Three men had Roman on the ground, and one raised his tomahawk, ready to plunge his blade into Roman’s chest.

  Somebody let out a deafening roar like a bear.

  “Ayúštaŋ po!”

  We all turned toward the sound.

  Marcellious, clutching his arm as blood seeped through his jacket from the wound in his shoulder, shouted in Sioux. “Stop fighting, my brothers. I am one of you!”

  My jaw dropped open. Marcellious knows the Sioux language? How many secrets does he carry? While I could not hold a conversation, I’d learned enough from Moon Lee to understand it.

  Everyone stopped fighting.

  The forest around us seemed to hold its breath as we all waited to see what happened next—even the breeze had stopped.

  Only the sound of our heaving lungs rattled the silence.

  One of the Natives, the tallest man, stalked toward Marcellious and got in his face.

  “Tukténitaŋhaŋ he?” he demanded.

  I quickly translated to, “Where do you come from?”

  “How does this white man know our language?” a shorter man said, speaking in Sioux.

  The tall man loomed over Marcellious as he said, louder this time, “Who are you?”

  Marcellious held his ground. “I am one of you.”

  “No,” the tall man said, “you are not one of us.”

  “I am indeed one of you.” He pushed his sleeve back, revealing his tattooed arm.

  The tall man glanced down at his own arm and back to Marcellious’ forearm. “How did you get that mark? It is known only to our tribe.”

  Roman and I glanced at one another.

  I extended my arm and pointed at it, silently asking him if he had a similar mark.

  Roman shook his head.

  The Natives began talking to one another, shifting uneasily back and forth.

  “How can he have our mark?”

  “Who is he?”

  “Is this some sort of trick?”

  Finally, Marcellious said clearly, “Take me to your village. I would like to meet your chief.”

  The tall man glared at Marcellious but said nothing.

  “I am the son of Dancing Fire. I want to be taken to your chief, now,” Marcellious bellowed.

  Roman’s and my mouths both dropped open.

  Marcellious is the son of Dancing Fire? That was Lee’s Native American name.

  The warriors shrank back as if shoved backward by Marcellious’ words.

  One of them fell to his knees and lowered his head, and then, one by one, they all followed suit.

 

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