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Food. All he could think about was food. Ella had tried to talk to him about her conversation with Emilia, but he couldn't focus on it. His body was aching. Working out with the anticipation of food, rather than reality, had been stupid. But what else was he supposed to do? Sit around and think about his upcoming surrender.

Even though he tried to tell himself that it wasn't a surrender, which was still what he felt like it was.

But his desire to eat, the gnawing emptiness in his stomach, and the hazy way his brain was working made eating a priority. He knew he wouldn't be able to go another day. Hell, he didn't know if he'd make it to dinner at this rate; even after his slow, lazy laps in the pool, his muscles felt so weak that for one awful moment he'd thought the soldiers might need to help support him.

The only thing saving him was the fact that no one was denying him water. But that had stopped helping the emptiness yesterday.

As they came into the main room, Ander looked up at t
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