King Alden's eyes shift as the doors close behind his brother.
Even that small movement looks like it costs him.
"Duke Charles," Alden says, his voice rough, like dry leaves scraping together. "You're late."
Charles doesn't answer right away. He walks closer to the bed, each step heavy, then stops at the side. For a moment, he just looks at his brother.
Alden notices.
"Don't stand there staring at me like I'm already dead," he mutters, irritation slipping through the weakness. "Speak. What happened in Bakwell City?"
Charles exhales slowly.
It comes out like he's been holding it in the entire way here.
"They lost," he says.
Alden's brows pull together.
"Lost?" he repeats. "Explain."
Charles closes his eyes for a brief second, then opens them again.
"The army failed. The nobles failed," he says. "And the worst part…"
He pauses.
"They surrendered."
The words hang in the air.
