Invasion.

The words rained like arrows on me. My nails dug into my palms at the memory, but I had no strength to grip them into fists. I had no strength for anything.

A faint knock sounded at the door before Kaleb entered, the scent of someone else following behind him.

"The physician's here," he said, voice devoid of emotion.

I didn't answer.

A man stepped into view, dressed in dark robes that carried the scent of herbs and sterilized steel. Emil. The castle's physician. He was older, his beard laced with white, but his piercing yellow eyes saw everything.

He exhaled sharply as he neared the bed. "So. You finally tore yourself apart completely this time, Your Grace."

I didn't react. I couldn't.

"Pulse is weak," he murmured, pressing two fingers to my wrist. "Respiration unstable. Dehydrated. Energy reserves dangerously depleted." He clicked his tongue. "I assume he hasn't eaten."

Kaleb's silence answered for him.