Whispers of War

[Emperor Cassius Pov]

The wine tastes bitter tonight.

Strange. It's the same bottle I've had aged for fifteen years. Same grapes, same vineyard. And yet it grates on my tongue like ash. 

Sigh...

I set the goblet aside.

Damn it. My mind won't calm down.

No matter how I close my eyes or count the breaths, my thoughts claw their way to the surface like starving wolves. Maybe I should train. Maybe I should carve through the air with a sword until the rage burns out of me. Maybe I should kill something. Something that bleeds.

"Uughhh…"

I glance to my side.

She shifts in her sleep—my daughter—curled like a kitten in the mountain of pillows. Her small hand stretches toward me, blindly, instinctively. And then she finds it—my fingers—and clings. Tight.