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A week went by and they had still not located the stone. They had sent word across the kingdom but no one had been able to find anything. The search added to Peter's mounting stress as their had also been

Attempted assassinations to the heir. Though they were few in number, one had happened when Edmund had snuck out to see her.

He didn't know why he felt the need to see the person who would kill him, so often, but their questions he wanted answers too. Most times she could not give them to him, but he still returned, uncertain of what he was hoping to obtain.

Edmund had been quite surprised when a dwarf with beady eyes and a small dagger burst into the room. For a second he wondered how he had gotten in only to realize it was his fault, he had sent the guards away in order to talk to the female in private.

Now the dwarf bared down on him, a glint of madness to his eyes as Edmund was pressed up against the bars of the cell. The dwarf paused for a moment to catch his breath before catching sight of the heir who returned it with an unconcerned look. Letting out a battle cry, the dwarf charged forward and Edmund made to intercept.

He didn't know why he did it, whether it be for the dwarf's sake or for the heir's. But as the sting of the dagger dug into his leg the heir reacted. Though her magic could not leave the cell, her physical body could slip in between the bars and she used her small size to her advantage, gripping the dwarf's wrist tightly.

With a pained cry he released the dagger as Edmund staggered to the side. He inspected the wound only for his head to snap back upwards as the dwarf's cry turned into full blown screaming. In a burst of power, the dwarf's arm was suddenly being encased in ice. The heir did not seem to care of his pleas as she stared at him with those pitch black eyes.

Limping as best he could, he grabbed the dwarf's other arm and yanked with all his might, but the heir was strong. He glanced down in worry as the ice made it's way towards the dwarf's head before coming to a decision. Grabbing the heir's wrist with one hand, he used the other to reach into the bars and grip her chin tightly.

As soon as he touched her skin, a ghostly ache erupted on his abdomen. Ignoring the pain he forced those pitch black eyes to look at him, "RELEASE HIM AT ONCE"

Time seem to pause for a moment, Edmund staring with his mouth agape at the heir who looked just as taken back as he was. As they looked into each other's eyes, Edmund felt the pain recede. It was replaced by a warm feeling that reminded him of when his father was still alive. He had felt so happy at that time, knowing his family was complete as well as his heart.

The memories disappeared as soon as they came as time resumed, Peter storming into the room with guards on his heels. Somehow they managed to all fit in the room as Oreius pulled Edmund outside. His vision began to swim in and out of focus as he watched Peter point his sword at the heir threateningly, two minotaurs pulling the dwarf out of her icy grip.

Susan and Lucy were running towards him as the centaur lifted him up in his arms and began to make quickly for the infirmary. They followed along as best as they could, shouting out his name and words of encouragement. They were lost on his part.

The last thing he saw was the high ceiling of the infirmary and Lucy leaning over him. Then his vision went black and the pain began.

Peter was at a lost of what to do. Not only had their been another assassination attempt on the heir, the fifth one in three day mind you, but Edmund had been caught up in the action as well. Somehow his younger brother had winded up in the heir's holding chamber when the dwarf had attacked. The Narnian didn't even try to lie either, he bluntly stating he had wanted to kill the heir with his own hands.

Edmund had been injured in the events and had been taken to the infirmary to be treated. Upon arrival he fainted only to start a screaming fit. It seemed that the old wound from the White Witch's wand had reopened a small bit but it was causing massive pain to the king. It took almost two hours before they managed to calm him down and force him into painless sleep while, in that time, Peter had managed to clean up the situation as best as he could.

He sent for the guards to be punished while also sending the dwarf to a cell so that his actions would be trialed later. The heir on the other hand was a matter still on going. As soon as she removed her hand from the dwarf's, the magic collar had reacted. For a straight five minutes she was put under a great amount of pain.

Peter knew what the collar could do and at the time it had been a great idea to put it on her as it would prevent her from hurting anyone. However, when he saw the way her body crumpled in on itself, jaw flexing as she tried to hold in her screams, he had felt horrified. No one should be subjected to such a thing, especially after going against everything and saving his brother.

Though he didn't fully believe it, the facts showed that she had used her abilities to save Edmund's life. Now, the eldest Pevensie was not about to release the heir and throw a grand party in her honor for such a thing. But the events were starting to blend together, making him realize there was more to the story then he thought.

Lucy was beyond scared. The crazed dwarf's eyes reminded her of the Witch's followers that used to attack them before. Those were things she could handle.

What she could not, was the look the heir was giving her when she ran after Edmund. The moment had before the magic collar activated, their had a look of pure relief on her features. It gave her the image of a young female who wasn't trying to kill her siblings. It made Lucy wonder if she was really as horrible as many made her sound to be.

The thoughts were pushed aside in favor of worrying over Edmund. Soon after he fainted in the infirmary, a female centaur galloped into the room. From the waist down, her horse half was an ashy gray, matching the messy bun on her head. Her eyes were large and warm, making Lucy feel comforted that Edmund was in good hands.

"What happened to him?" her blunt words were another comfort. She had worked many times as a field medic, caring for wounded before sending most back out to fight. When Lucy had once asked why she talked in such a tone, the elder centaur had told her that the battlefield was no place for waiting. Strategies and procedures needed to be put into action immediately and she could not afford to tell the others nurses in a nicer tone, especially over the wails of death.

Some habits just died with a person.

"A stab wound to his leg is all I can say about his physical" a young female satyr said. Lucy remembered that this was one of the centaures helpers.

"His mental state is completely out of it. It feels cold and dark" an identical satyr to the first said from the other side of the bed. Both wore matching clothing: half topped shirts made of fur, a crown of flowers nestled between their newly grown horns, and gold bracelets on their left wrists.

The two satyrs were well known in the castle as one could sense physical pain in a being while the other could sense mental pain. It helped the old centaur diagnose injuries faster.

At the moment, said person was frowning in thought as she rummaged through the pouch bag that held her many herbs and ingredients for remedies. "We'll start with the leg wound before his mental state. We can't allow that to become infected".

She was one of the few that knew the gruesome details of Edmund's wound from the battle Beruna.

Susan pulled Lucy away from the bed to give them room, sitting her down in her lap on the next one over. Oreius tailed swished nervously behind him and Susan placed a calming hand over his own. The warrior smiled at her but it still looked strained. Lucy was certain she knew why the centaur was on edge; if the satyr twins detected a cold mental pain in Edmund then there was only one wound responsible, despite the fact it should have remained closed.

The banging of the cell door didn't raise a reaction from the curled up figure on the floor of the cell. Guilt fluttered in Peter's chest again but he pushed it aside, he couldn't break down just yet. He gave a quick glance to the guards outside, signaling for them to leave. When they were gone he shut the door, a precaution in case of eavesdroppers.

When he turned back around, the girl had remained in the same place as before. Not certain how to start the discussion he sat on the floor, feeling his legs would give out if he didn't.

"Thank you for saving my brother" no response.

"The dwarf will be facing trial for the acts he has done. He should not have tried to kill you and the same goes for the others who tried to attack you. They will be punished for what they have done" Peter paused in his ramblings, watching as the heir slowly pulled herself into a sitting position. His hand twitched but did not grip his sword hilt.

As she sat up fully, Peter was amazed at how small she was reminding him of Lucy. When she opened her eyes, he was caught off guard for a moment; weren't they pitch black before?

Instead of being completely black, they had grown into a lighter shade. Now they looked more like a dark grey.

In his surprise he didn't notice that the heir was studying him as well. Clearing his suddenly dry throat he made to speak but was cut off "why do you care if I'm still alive or not? I thought you said you wanted me to be imprisoned in the darkest dungeon? Isn't that the same as killing me?"

Her tone wasn't accusing. It was almost curious, which made Peter feel sick. Hands balling into fists a surge of anger overtook him; and it was directed at himself.

He looked at her again, this time really looked at her. She was small, about Lucy's size. Her hair was a tangle mess of silver grey hair, reminding him of dirty snow. Her tattered robe could not be keeping her warm in the chilly air of the underground portion of the castle, even with it's closed quarters and the four torches ablaze.

The thought gave him an idea and he quickly unclasped his cape, pushing it through the bars inch by inch. The heir stared at the thick material for a moment, looking up at him with a confused expression. "Use it. You must be freezing down here"

Suddenly she burst into laughter, this time Peter grabbed the hilt of his sword thinking she had gone mad. But she did not attack. Instead she picked up the material, running her hand across of it in wonder. "I don't feel the cold. But thank you" the small smile she gave him broke through his defenses. For such a cold hearted person she was portrayed as, the warmth that radiated from that one quirk of lips was like a blast from the sun.

He stared in wonder as she pulled it up and around her, swamping her body in a pile of silk. It was in these shifts of movement did the King see them. His anger slowly died down, shifting into horror and realization.

When she looked back up at him she was surprised by the wide eyed look he was giving, one that was filled with sympathy.

"What?" her defenses began to rise again, uncertain what he was thinking.

The Magnificent King faced turned serious as he looked her straight in the eye "who hit you?"