Chapter 5The world was blurred. Bands of iron crushed Aeneas’s chest. He staggered down the hallway, leaned against the plaster wall and sucked down air. Far-off, he could hear the distant sounds of the slaves preparing for the day. Cinnamon aromas wafted from the kitchen. Once upon a time, the smell of cinnamon would have set his mouth watering. Now the spice made his stomach quiver. Ugh, he’d never quite figured out how to avoid the sickness that came after a night of drinking. Father had always said he couldn’t hold his wine.
‘Dad?’ Julos leaned from the doorway of his bedchamber, staring at him. He rubbed the grit out of his eyes. ‘Is Dido all right?’
‘She’s fine, Julos.’ He released a slow breath.
‘Are you sure? That sounded pretty bad.’
Aeneas’s lips pursed. ‘You were listening?’
