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—aloathsometime 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 anobodyin 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 fromher!”
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.
