" When I woke the air was hot and stuffy, and I was immediately aware of being shut up in a small painted-canvas box. But before I could react with more than that initial flash of distress, I realized that the carriage had stopped. I struggled up, wincing against a thumping great headache, just as the door opened.
There was the Marquis, holding his hand out. I took it, making a sour face. At least, I thought as I recognized an innyard, he looks as wind tousled and muddy as I must.
But there was no fanfare, no groups of gawking peasants and servants. He picked me up and carried me through a side door, and thence into a small parlor that overlooked the innyard. Seated on plain hemp-stuffed pillows, I looked out at the stable boy and driver busily changing the horses. The longshadows of late afternoon obscured everything; a cheap time-candle in a corner sconce marked the time as green-three.
Sounds at the door brought my attention around. An inn servant entered, carrying a tray laden with steaming dishes. As she set them out I looked at her face, wondering if I could get a chance to talk to her alone--if she might help a fellow-female being held prisoner?
“Coffee?” the Marquis said, splintering my thoughts.
I looked up, and I swear there was comprehension in those gray eyes.
“Coffee?” I repeated blankly.
“A drinkable blend, from the aroma.” He tossed his hat and riding gloves onto the cushion beside him and leaned forward to pour a brown stream of liquid into two waiting mugs. “A miraculous drink. One of the decided benefits of our world-hopping mages,” he said.
“Mages.” I repeated that as well, trying to marshal my thoughts, which wanted to scamper, like frightened mice, in six different directions.
“Coffee. Horses.” A careless wave toward the innyard. “Chocolate. Kinthus. Laimun. Several of the luxuries that are not native to our world, brought here from others.”
I could count the times we’d managed to get ahold of coffee, and I hadn’t cared for its bitterness. But as I watched, honey and cream were spooned into the dark beverage, and when I did take a cautious sip, it was delicious. With the taste came warmth, a sense almost of well-being. For a short time I was content to sit, with my eyes closed, and savor the drink.
The welcome smell of braised potatoes and clear soup brought my attention back to the present. When I opened my eyes, there was the food, waiting before me.
“You had probably better not eat much more than that,” said the Marquis. “We have a long ride ahead of us tonight, and you wouldn’t want to regret your first good meal in days.”
In weeks, I thought as I picked up a spoon, but I didn’t say it out loud--it felt disloyal somehow.
Then the sense of what he’d said sank in, and I almost lost my appetite again. “How long to the capital?”
“We will arrive sometime tomorrow morning,” he said.
I grimaced down at my soup, then braced myself up, thinking that I’d better eat, hungry or not, for I’d need my strength. "

― Sherwood Smith , Crown Duel (Crown & Court, #1)