Page 23 of Taming the Eagle

“Here,” he said tersely. “Grab these before they fall.”

Fenella wanted to spit again. However, she knew he was handing her food and drink—and as she hadn’t eaten since noon the day before, she was now light-headed and her belly ached with hunger.

Rising to her feet, she reached up, taking a bladder and a cloth-wrapped package. She then clutched the items to her breast and sank back down, resting her back against the side of the hole. She wouldn’t eat or drink anything until this bastard left.

But the Eagle didn’t depart—instead, he silently watched her.

He was helmetless and no longer wore his armor, clad only in a leather harness and heavy pleated leather skirt over his tunic.

“I didn’t want to throw you into the pit,” he said after a long pause, “but you left me with no choice.”

Fenella’s mouth thinned, yet she mutinously held her tongue. She just wanted him to go.

But Aquila didn’t move.

“If you swear to obey me … and not to attempt another escape, I shall let you out of here,” he continued.

“I’ll swear no such thing,” she growled back. “I willneverbe your slave.”

“You can either live in the comfort of my residence or remain in the pit,” he replied, a groove appearing between his dark brows. “I should warn you though … it gets cold in there at night.”

Fenella’s lip curled. She didn’t care.

Aquila heaved a sigh and rose to his feet, casting one last glance down at her. “So be it,” he murmured. “Perhaps you will see things differently in the morning.”

“Never!”

The Eagle turned and moved away from the edge of the pit. Fenella listened to his retreating footsteps before she hastily unwrapped the package he’d passed her. It was bread and hard goat’s cheese. Both were delicious—the bread salty and crunchy—and she devoured her meal. Unstoppering the bladder, she then gulped down cool ale.

Now that the edge had been taken off her hunger, and her mouth was no longer parched, resolve stiffened Fenella’s spine.

Maybe Roman women weren’t used to the cold, but she was. Her father had brought her up to be tough, and her time with Toutorix had made her even more resilient.

The Eagle wouldn’t break her.

But by the time the dawn sky lightened, Fenella wasn’t so sure of herself.

Aquila had lied—the pit wasn’t cold at night. It wasfreezing.

Arms wrapped around herself, Fenella hunched in a corner of the hole, teeth chattering.

They were almost at Gateway now, the festival that marked autumn’s slide into winter, and the nights had grown chill—yet this dank pit was even colder than she’d expected.

Far colder.

And as the sun rose, the chill grew unbearable.

Fenella’s breath steamed before her as she climbed stiffly to her feet and started to pace the cramped space. Shivering uncontrollably, she blew on her numb hands and stamped her feet.

Gods, she wouldn’t last long in here.

If it got any colder at night, she’d perish by dawn.

Above, the sky grew lighter and the rumble of men’s voices punctuated the stillness. The fort was awakening.

Footsteps approached then, and wrapping her arms about herself once more, to try and control her shivering, Fenella glanced up.

Curse him, the Eagle had flown back in.