My thanks to all my readers, as usual. Enjoy this next chapter!


Peter made his way back into the castle, brow furrowed as he mulled over the little Hedgehog's account. He didn't know what to make of it, try as he might to untangle it. It frustrated, and even frightened him, that there was anything that could make him doubt his own brother. But the evidence seemed to point to only one conclusion, no matter how unthinkable it was. The afternoon's activities were not the distraction he was hoping for. Rather than giving him a reprieve from his treacherous thoughts, the time spent with the Calormenes only exacerbated it. As Susan and Lucy were buried in last minute preparations for the feast the following night, and Edmund was holed up in his room, refusing to come out, Peter was obligated to hold court. He reluctantly extended the invitation for the foreign delegation to observe the process and they eagerly agreed.

As Animals of all kinds came forward, mostly with nothing more to say than how happy they were to be celebrating the defeat of the Witch and the fulfillment of the prophecy, Peter tried not to be distracted by the Calormenes. They stared at him with their dark eyes gleaming in their dark faces, stroking their dark beards with dark hands. Every now and then, one of them would grin, as if sharing in a private joke of which Peter was unaware. Even after the hearings were finished, and Peter led them to tour the stables, their smugness remained. It was a struggle for Peter not to be bothered by their haughtiness and he tried to remember if they had been acting this way for the entirety of their stay or if their behavior was a recent development. He couldn't recall and purposed to ask Susan about it later. When at last it was time for the desert-dwelling Calormenes to retire for their routine rest in the heat of the afternoon, Peter was relieved.

Finally free of the delegation, he sought out Susan, hoping to be of some use to her. He found her in the grand hall, surrounded by a multitude of Animals and Beasts, all clamoring for her attention, with questions to be answered, decisions to be made, details to be sorted, and choices to be approved. As he crossed the room, he was struck by how gracefully she was handling the chaos. She spoke clearly and confidently to each in their turn, addressing every issue with certainty. A Faun, holding a tray of wine flutes aloft, trotted past and Peter ducked quickly to avoid being hit. Three Bears formed a team to rearrange tables, followed by a train of Satyrs with the chairs. A Hound bounded into the room, with a basket of cutlery carried in its mouth. Peter was surprised to see Mrs. Beaver next to the canine, quickly setting out the appropriate place settings. He hadn't known the Beavers were able to make it to the celebration but he was glad to find they were. He waved to her and she returned the gesture cheerily before going back to her task. After nearly knocking into a Badger with a tablecloth, narrowly avoiding treading on a Leopard's tail, and stopping mid-step to allow a Centaur with an armload of candles to go by, Peter made it to Susan. He nodded to those who called out greetings to him, and waited patiently until it was his turn to ask for the Gentle Queen's attention.

"Oh, Peter," Susan said, brushing a stray piece of hair back from her forehead.

"You're doing marvelous," Peter told her.

"It's not nearly ready," Susan said, taking the two glasses offered to her by a Gorilla. She took a sip from each and handed them back. "We'll use that one." She pointed to the sample of red wine.

The Gorilla nodded and loped back to the kitchen. Peter grabbed Susan's hand.

"Have you had a break yet?" he asked.

She barely seemed to notice his question or that he had taken her hand. "I don't have time for one."

"I'm sure I can manage this for at least an hour," Peter offered.

Susan finally looked at him. "I don't know..."

"You'll do no one any good if you exhaust yourself before tomorrow," Peter said.

"True. But there's just so much left to do…" Susan trailed off again.

"And you've done more than your share," Peter assured her. "Let me help you."

She gave him a small smile. "Are you sure?"

"I would be delighted to," he stated.

"Alright then. The tables are almost finished. Just make sure the Bears arrange them straight, they have a tendency to angle them. The candles will need to be put into the holders, just as soon as Halfcrest delivers them," Susan directed. "The silverware must be placed on top of the napkins, not underneath. And Lucy should be here soon with the flowers."

"It shall be done, your highness," Peter assured her, giving her a soft push toward the door.

"Remind Birchtone she has yet to hang the drapes in the musician's quarters. And keep an eye on the Hounds. They keep trying to slip into the kitchens to sample tomorrow's supper," Susan added.

"I will," Peter promised, amazed at the amount of things Susan was keeping track of. "Now, go get some rest."

"Thank you," Susan said, walking out to her room.

Just as she exited one end of the hall, Lucy came bounding in through the other. There were flowers woven into her hair, and color in her cheeks, and Peter couldn't help smiling at the sight. A company of Dryads was close behind her, laughing musically, hair flowing. The ladies spun gracefully about the chamber, placing flowers in artistic ways along the walls, the tables, the trimmings, the candelabras, the windows and the doorways. The sweet scent of fresh blossoms filled the air, and many of those working in the area stopped to admire the aroma and the sight of the flowers. Lucy danced among the Dryads, her movement unconsciously coordinated with theirs. She moved with such natural ease, Peter was mesmerized as he observed her. When at last the floral arrangements were set, he caught up to Lucy, taking her hands and spinning her through several steps of a traditional Narnian dance before ending it with a twirl. Lucy collapsed against him, breathless and happy.

"Isn't it wonderful, Peter?" Lucy said, pointing at the garlands of flowers strung all over.

"It's fantastic," Peter agreed, giving her a quick squeeze. "Everyone's going to love it."

"I hope so," Lucy said, taking a step back. "Why can't it be tomorrow night already? This is almost as bad as waiting for Christmas!"

Peter chuckled. "Don't worry, Lu. You've only got one day left."

"I can't wait!" Lucy clapped her hands excitedly.

"Oh, Lucy, would you mind helping me with a few things? Susan's taking a break and she left me a list of instructions," Peter said.

Lucy feigned shock. "Susan took a break?"

"Not by choice," Peter corrected. "I sort of forced her out."

"Good. She needed one," Lucy approved. "She's been working nonstop on this celebration for months."

They spent the next hour getting the hall ready for the feast the following evening. As soon as all the tables were in straight lines, the chairs were pushed in, the cutlery placed with napkins, and the candles set in holders, they stepped back to admire their work. After deeming it complete, the two sovereigns personally thanked every Animal or Creature that had helped. After they had left the room and were walking down the hallway, Peter snapped his fingers.

"I nearly forgot! Susan asked me to do one more thing," he explained.

"What is it?" Lucy asked.

"I'm supposed to remind Birchtone about some curtains," Peter said.

Lucy tugged on his hand. "I think I know where she might be."

She led him through Cair Paravel, maintaining a lively conversation with him, even as they traversed hallways, mounted staircases, crossed halls, and passed spacious rooms. It was at the intersection of two corridors that Peter suddenly stopped. Lucy went on a few more paces before she noticed he was no longer beside her.

"Peter?" She walked back to him, noticing the confusion on his face. "What's wrong?"

"Do you hear that?" he asked.

"Hear what?" she queried.

He angled himself to face the hallway on the right. "Can't you hear that shouting? It sounds like Edmund."

Lucy frowned. "Why would Edmund be shouting?"

"I don't know. But I think we ought to find out," Peter replied, setting off quickly in the direction of the commotion, Lucy trotting beside him.

As they got closer, the scene became clear, and both Peter and Lucy were shocked by what they saw. Still ranting loudly, Edmund stood over a cowering girl, who Peter recognized as belonging to Uhanta's entourage. A bottle of wine, several goblets, and a serving tray were strewn across the floor near the pair. Without warning, Edmund raised his hand as if to strike the girl. Peter rushed forward and intercepted the blow, grabbing Edmund's wrist with enough force to bruise.

"Edmund! Have you gone mad? What do you think you're doing?" he demanded, eyes wide.

Lucy helped the girl to her feet, though it was obvious the maiden was still frightened for she ducked behind Lucy, staring at Edmund and quivering slightly.

"Let go," Edmund growled.

"Were you going to hit her?" Peter inquired, tone hard, even as his face was filled with incredulity.

"She's a stupid, clumsy wench," Edmund barked.

"Edmund!" Lucy reprimanded.

"And it's nothing she isn't used to," Edmund continued with a sneer, ignoring his little sister. "The Calormenes are allowed to do with their slaves as they see fit. If a beating is deserved, a beating is given."

"Lucy, take her and find a quiet spot to calm her down," Peter ordered, never taking his eyes off Edmund.

Without hesitation, Lucy followed Peter's direction. While the two girls made their escape, the kings stared at each other. Edmund's glare was defiant where Peter's was outraged.

"What's gotten into you, Ed? You're not yourself lately," Peter murmured, tightening his grip when Edmund tried to pull his hand away.

"You can't tell me how I am to act," Edmund hissed.

"As a king of Narnia-" Peter started.

"Keep your bloody lectures to yourself," Edmund snarled, tugging again on his hand.

Peter released it, but a flash of red caused him to snatch it once more.

"Get off," Edmund snapped.

But Peter was stronger, yanking Edmund's sleeve back up to expose his wrist. The skin was broken in thick lines, chafed and swollen. In the span of a second, Peter grabbed the other hand to see if the injury was the same on both wrists. Identical damage marred the second one and Peter inhaled sharply.

"What happened, Ed? It looks as though you've been bound," Peter said.

Edmund jerked his arms back defensively. "It's nothing. Why do you always insert yourself into my business? I don't need your help, or your pity, and I've certainly never asked for it. So why don't you do us both a favor and leave me alone?"

"Edmund, I'm your brother," Peter stated, as if that was the only explanation needed.

The response he received was not affectionate. Edmund merely rolled his eyes. "Yes, it's an unavoidable relationship, not one of my choosing."

"I'm worried about you," Peter said bluntly.

"You needn't bother. I can take care of myself," Edmund retorted, turning to walk away.

"Does this have something to do with the Witch?" Peter asked softly.

Edmund froze.

"The injuries, your behavior lately...is it because it's the year anniversary?" Peter pressed anxiously.

Shoulders tightening, Edmund said nothing. Peter crossed the distance between them and laid a hand on his brother's shoulder. It was immediately shrugged off but Peter didn't let that deter him.

"Has some dark magic returned to haunt you?" he questioned, ducking his head to search Edmund's downturned face. "Edmund, tell me."

"Just shut up," Edmund growled, giving Peter a hard shove in the chest before running down the hallway.

Peter watched him go, wanting to follow but knowing there was nothing more he could say if Edmund wasn't going to listen. With a heavy sigh, Peter turned to find Lucy. He located her talking quietly with the servant girl on a balcony overlooking the sea. Lucy had given the maid a cup of water, and she seemed to be recovering from her fright. But when Peter came out to join them, she abandoned it to throw herself at his feet, crying incoherently. Bewildered, Peter looked to Lucy, who could only shrug helplessly. Slowly, in order to avoid startling the girl, Peter knelt.

"It's alright, I'm not going to hurt you," he promised.

The girl flicked her eyes to his face before refocusing them on the ground.

Peter gently touched her arm. "What's your name?"

After swallowing her tears, the girl replied, "I am called Zinith."

"Please, rise, Zinith," Peter invited, helping her to her feet.

She allowed him to, but still did not meet his eyes. "I am most grateful to you, High King, for your intervention," she whispered.

Peter frowned. "I am sorry it was needed. I must apologize for my brother. He is not himself of late."

Lucy looked at him quizzically, but Peter minutely shook his head, leaving that conversation for another time. Lucy patiently accepted his decision.

"Zinith," he began, sorting through his mind for a delicate way to ask his next question. "Is what Edmund said true? Are you being mistreated by the tarkaan?"

Zinith's face went white but she mutely shook her head.

"You're safe here. You can tell us," Lucy encouraged.

Zinith only insisted on shaking her head again and refused to participate in any more conversation, no matter the subjects Peter and Lucy changed it to. Finally, she set down her cup on the railing.

"I must go before my master notices my absence," she said. Crossing over to Peter, she clasped his hand, bringing it to her mouth to press a kiss to his signet ring. "Thank you, your majesty."

"Zinith, if you need help, do not hesitate to let me know. I will do everything in my power to protect you," Peter stated.

She gave him a timid nod before leaving quickly. Peter watched her go and sighed.

"Can't we do more for her?" Lucy asked softly.

Reluctantly, Peter shook his head. "We can't interfere with the Calormenes or their customs. Without proof, there's no way we can take any action without being accused of meddling. If Zinith chooses not to say anything, then there's nothing more we can do to help her." He sighed again. "I'm worried Susan was right about the Calormenes," he mused aloud.

"I'm worried about Edmund," Lucy added, stepping closer to him. "I can't believe he was about to hit her! He wouldn't have, would he?" She looked to Peter for confirmation.

"I don't know," Peter admitted, stomach twisting with the thought of what could have happened in that hallway if he and Lucy hadn't interrupted.

"What's going on with him?" Lucy asked. "You look as though you have an idea."

Peter shrugged his shoulders glumly. "It's more of a guess, really."

"What's your guess then?" Lucy queried.

"Perhaps it has something to do with the Witch," Peter speculated.

Lucy immediately protested, "But Aslan killed her."

"I know. I saw it happen. But maybe there's some sort of dark magic that's lingered and now that it's the Year of Beruna, it's somehow getting stronger?" Peter said. "It might explain his strange behavior and…" he trailed off, not wanting to scare Lucy with the details of Edmund's mysterious injuries.

Pursing her lips in concentration, Lucy considered the theory. "If that is true, then how do we stop it?"

"I'm open to suggestions," Peter said with a wry smile.

"We'll figure something out," Lucy declared with her customary optimism.

"In the meantime," Peter threw an arm around her shoulder, "We still have a Dryad to find."

Having just finished his preparations for bed, Peter considered climbing under the covers and getting a good night's sleep before the big celebration the following day. But the moonlight streaming in through his window was enticing so he stepped out onto his balcony. The night enveloped him, wrapping him in warm breezes and darkness. The gentle lapping of waves against the beach provided a rhythm to the night, nature's heartbeat. He stared up into the clear sky, the constellations blazing brilliant within the silken void of space. A year ago, he had been in a tent, with his prodigal brother, waiting to battle evil for the freedom of an entire country. In the time since, he had experienced combat, been crowned, established new laws, passed judgement, practiced swordsmanship, drafted treaties, entertained royalty in his court, and reconnected with his siblings in a way he hadn't since before the war in...England.

He placed his forearms on the balustrade, leaning forward over them. The wind picked up the loose bits of his hair, toying with the blond strands. He shut his eyes, pushing aside the temptation to compare himself to the expectations placed upon by his subjects, his family, Aslan, or even his own idea of what he should amount to as a king. Instead, he emptied his mind, clearing away the memories, the doubts, the fears, the burdens, worries, cares, his apprehension about the future and his lack of belief in his own abilities. He simply inhaled, submitting to the ambient silence. During his reign thus far, he had discovered a refuge in the night. It was only when most others were asleep, tucked away safe and sound, that he realized he could relax. When there were no eyes fixed on him, watching and assessing his every move, weighing his every decision, demanding his attention for their problems, looking to him for strength and confidence and wisdom and direction, when at last he was free from their well-intentioned interest and rightful requests, he could slip out of being High King Peter the Magnificent and return to Peter Pevensie. Even if it was only for a few moments, the secret solitude of his midnight sanctuary was a luxury.

Behind him, there came the soft noise of slippers on the wooden floor of his bedroom. The steps were slow, and after a moment they stopped. He turned to look over his shoulder and saw Susan hesitating in the doorway, watching him. With a tip of his chin, he wordlessly invited her to join him. She picked up the hem of her nightgown and stepped out onto the terrace. Once next to him, she placed her hands on the railing near him and he absently covered hers with one of his. Tilting her head, she studied their hands for a minute before moving her gaze to the rest of him.

"You've grown," she murmured.

Peter laughed quietly. "I believe you're thinking of Edmund. He's really shot up these past few weeks."

"No, I meant since we first came to Narnia," Susan explained.

Peter's eyebrows came together.

"Your shoulders are broader. You've certainly put on more muscle. And yes, you've grown taller as well." Susan made a show of standing on her tiptoes to measure his height with her hand.

"It's only natural, I suppose," Peter mused.

"Narnia suits you," Susan complemented honestly. "Much better than Finchley ever did." She placed her head on his shoulder, staring out at the distant mountains. "I can't believe it's been a year," she whispered. "So much has changed. But it seems to have happened so fast."

"Indeed," Peter agreed.

"Do you suppose they've noticed we're gone? Back there, in England?" Susan wondered hesitantly.

Peter had no answer to give, so he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head and curled an arm around her shoulder. They stood that way for hours, watching the stars wheel overhead as the night moved toward dawn.


ChildofGod: Okay, you seem much better now. *puts away the paper bag I was going to hand you to help with the hyperventilating* *notices a golden glow surrounding me* Ooo! Shiny! It must be all the blessings =)

NarniaGirl: Aww, yay! Now you know how I feel when I see you reviewed :D Sorry for the long names of the mice but I noticed how the names in Prince Caspian were similar to the ones in LWW so I assumed Narnians keep names in the family and tried to write accordingly. Bear with me a little longer and we'll finally see the resolution to the story that we're all waiting on ;)