Chapter 38Hot winds blew from the desert, filling the cell with dust. The late afternoon sun streamed through the tiny window above Aeneas’s head. He rolled off the cot, shooed the flies away. If only they would empty the bucket more than once a day. After three days stuck here, he barely noticed the smell anymore. Still, the bugs were maddening.
Out in the corridor, the guard watched him through the bars of the cell door.
Aeneas raised his chin. ‘Where is my son? Where are my people?’ he asked for the millionth time.
The guard glowered, but said nothing.
Aeneas leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. ‘Fine. But you know I’m not going to stop asking.’
He eased himself back onto the cot and stared up at the ceiling. As prisons went, he supposed this wasn’t so bad. The Karkhedans
