A/N: I'm posting this on Thursday night instead of on Friday for my dear friend Queen Su, who is leaving for Europe tomorrow and wouldn't be able to read this next chapter. The things I do for my friends. ;) Again, I want to thank everybody for the wonderful response to the last chapter. Maybe I should have a cliffhanger at the end of every chapter, eh? ;) And now, without further ado...

--Chapter 10: Poisoned--

Cold. So cold. Ice. Snow. So cold. Freezing. Can't move. So cold. So alone.

Crying. Sounds of sobbing hacked into peaceful, horrible silence like butcher knives.

"Stop that noise at once."

It's not me. I'm not crying. I wish whoever it is would stop. It makes my head ache...

Every now and again I could hear voices.

"Idiot," someone said in a low, hushed voice. "That's the wrong one."

"My apologies," said the voice of someone else. "It was my fault entirely."

There was a fuzzy light in front of my eyes. It came closer, but then retreated, and then came closer again. Every time it reappeared, I heard anew the sobbing sound, as well as voices. They made my head spin, for I couldn't see anything clearly. Only a haze of light and darkness.

"There! He'll be all right now."

A sweet taste in my mouth. I could feel it sliding down my throat, warm and life-giving in the cold. I heard a thump. Then another. And another.

Is that my heartbeat? Did it stop? What in Narnia is going on?

Slowly, the fuzzy light grew closer again. This time it did not retreat. My lungs begged for air. I opened my mouth and breathed so deeply I thought they would burst. Air —sweet Narnian air!—filled my lungs. Someone cried out. I flinched.

At last, my eyes opened. There were so many faces above me that I could hardly pick out any single person, for they all blurred together.

"Oh Edmund!"

A little blur flung itself forward and hugged me tightly. I touched the figure's head, and saw by the long, loose golden hair that this was Lucy. Looking up, I saw Peter and Susan hovering over me but not daring to embrace me so freely in front of so many people.

"Is all well, with you, brother?" Peter asked, his voice betraying the fact that there were a million other things he would rather have asked.

I opened my mouth to speak, but my tongue seemed to have swelled horribly. My throat felt as dry as the southern desert. Not trusting my own voice, I simply nodded. Peter released his court poise for the briefest of moments as a huge sigh of relief escaped him. Seconds later, however, he was back as the composed High King Peter.

"We fear the food has not agreed with you. Darm will escort you to the infirmary to ensure your quick recovery."

I nodded wordlessly again. Darm appeared at my elbow, and the guests who had been gathered around began returning to where they had been before my interruption, muttering and conversing in low, worried tones. I could've sworn I saw a flash of crimson, but in half a second it was gone.

I managed to stand tall and appear as kingly as possible as I exited the ballroom, but once we were in the hall away from the crowds of staring visitors, I stumbled and fell heavily against the wall. Darm's worried face appeared before mine, and I croaked, "Water," as clearly as I could. Darm disappeared, and then returned seconds later, holding a goblet filled with the clear liquid. I lifted it to my lips without hesitation, and tears of relief filled my eyes as the cool water soothed my parched throat.

As I set the glass down on a nearby table, I turned to see Darm shaking his head.

"What's wrong?" I asked, wiping my mouth with one hand and staggering forward.

Darm took hold of my arm and helped me toward the infirmary.

"I'm afraid the High King was right. He told me to have some water on hand—in case…"

I stopped dead still where I stood.

"Lion's mane. I was poisoned."

A flicker of a smile crossed Darm's face at my blatant realization. He gave me a gentle push forward. My feet seemed to move of their own accord, for my mind was still spinning from the revelation.

"Poisoned," I said again, staring off into space. "Does Peter know who did it?"

Darm began to reply, but a guest from the ball appeared as we turned a corner, and he waited until the man was well out of hearing distance before whispering his answer.

"He was hoping you would have an idea. Do you know if you drank anything, or ate anything tonight that wasn't tested?"

"I didn't touch a thing!" I replied, lowering my voice as a servant glanced curiously our way. "I had nothing to eat, and I didn't drink any—wait."

My mind whirled as I played back the last few minutes before the darkness swallowed everything up. Corin. Fio's song. The chair. Peter's gob—

"That's it!"

All the servants in the hall turned to look at us. I flushed and smiled as apologetically as I could manage with my heart racing so. Darm's eyes flashed with intrigue as I turned back to him.

"Do you know who did it?"

"It was Peter's goblet," I whispered, glancing over my shoulder as I spoke. "It was his. I took a drink during Fio—er, the minstrel girl's song. And then everything went black…"

We reached the infirmary, but I didn't enter the door. I turned to my young friend and grabbed his shoulders, staring straight into his eyes with feverish passion.

"Darm. Tell Peter that I have to see him—as soon as possible! Tell him to pretend to be sick—break his big toe—anything! I have to see him now!"

"Calm down, King Edmund," Darm said, grabbing my arm to steady me as I swayed on my feet. "The cordial may have healed your immediate needs, but you still need the rest of the cure. I'll get the message to the High King—never fear. Please don't overexert yourself—you're still in grave danger."

I prepared to blast out how necessary it was that I saw Peter at once, but swallowed my words as I realized that Darm was in the right. I nodded meekly and turned to enter the infirmary.

"This is incredibly important, Darm. Peter needs to know about this. Now."

-----

I had meant to spend the time pacing up and down the infirmary until Peter arrived. Windmane had given me a dosage of herbs to completely cure the Adder's Blood. I was familiar with the remedy—a fairly ordinary weed that grew thickly in secluded parts of Narnia and Archenland—and wondered absently as I paced whether it might be wise to have it on hand in order to preserve Lucy's cordial.

"Pacing will not make time pass more quickly," Windmane reprimanded me from her herb table on one side of the infirmary. "You should rest, King Edmund. The herbs will make you realize how tired you are. Perhaps they'll help you rest; you're always in such a hurry, tearing around the castle as if nothing can wait! Your brother will arrive when he will arrive."

I sighed and gave her a look. She returned it, but with a chastising glare in it that reminded me of my mother—and Susan.

Reluctantly, I lowered myself onto the cot and leaned up against the wall. My eyes ached. Windmane was right when she said it had been a long day. Quite suddenly, as the coolness of the stone wall seeped into my back, I realized exactly how tired I was. I yawned.

"Goblet. It was the goblet. Well…the poison, I guess. Not the goblet. The juggling balls had their part in it, too, though. And the appetizers. If it hadn't been for the appetizer menu I'd be fine."

"Did you speak, Majesty?"

I rolled onto my side and rubbed my eyes, trying very hard not to think about letting them close. The cot was so blasted comfortable.

"I said it was the goblet's fault. And that Corin. And that horrid Lady Claudia too."

I felt a hand on my shoulder and opened my eyes to see Windmane staring down at me with the oddest of looks.

"What?"

She shook her head slowly, and then smiled slightly.

"I suppose it's merely the remedy. It can make one act a bit delirious."

"Delirious…" I stared vacantly ahead, and then blinked, slapping my face and focusing on staying awake. "Was that on the appetizer menu?"

Before Windmane had a chance to reply, the door of the infirmary slammed open, and a head of golden hair glistened in the dim light.

"Edmund?"

I sat bolt upright, pushing Windmane away and pinching myself viciously. I wasn't going to sleep until I told Peter what I had learned. Not even the cure could make me do that.

"Peter, I know who it was!"

My brother stared.

"What?" I asked, giving him a quizzical look.

"Nothing," he said with a smile. "You look an awful lot like you did when you were younger when it was late at night and you needed sleep badly. A bit tired, are you, Ed?"

I took a deep breath and rubbed my eyes. And then yawned.

"No. Well, yes, but I have to tell you..."

"You know who it was?" Peter prompted gently.

"It was the Lord Chancellor…what's his name?"

Peter gasped and drew back.

"Not Lord Irwin?"

I nodded absently.

"That's the one. At least, I think it was him. It was your goblet that was poisoned, and when Fio went to sing I forget it was yours and took a drink. Then I got quite sle—" I yawned enormously, "—sleepy."

Peter watched me with worried eyes.

"Are you sure you're all right, Ed?"

I nodded and yawned again.

"Just delirious. Nothing to be worried about."

Peter stared at me with an expression that was half bewildered and half amused.

"Just delirious?"

I nodded and yawned. Peter stared for a moment more, and then shook himself out of it.

"Did you leave my goblet behind for any period of time?"

I hesitated, and then nodded as I remembered my visit with Corin.

"Ye-es…I went to talk to…to someone. I set the goblet on the chair between Lady Iliea and Lord Irwin. I was only gone a minute or so…

"And Lady Iliea was sitting next to where you left my goblet. Wouldn't she have noticed if Irwin poisoned it?"

"Or vice versa," I muttered. Peter gave me a half-hearted glare, but I knew he wasn't all that annoyed. "I suppose she would have," I continued, "unless…"

Peter leaned forward with anticipation.

"Unless what?"

I yawned and blinked and then shook my head, trying to clear the cobwebs away.

"Unless Lord Irwin set his goblet next to mine—yours—and then picked yours up instead of his own. Perhaps he had already poisoned his. I didn't see him drinking from it. Maybe his plan was to put the poison in his vessel, and then exchange glasses with you. Except you happened to be called away and it was I who drank from Lord Irwin's poisoned cup."

Peter nodded, musing over my reasoning. I wasn't at my best, I must admit. But one must remember when reading this account that I had just been poisoned, revived, and been administered an herb that made one delirious—all in the last half hour.

"Was anyone else nearby when you returned to your seat?" Peter asked suddenly.

I blinked at him wordlessly. My older brother raised an eyebrow—he looked rather amused, now that I come to think of it—and sighed.

"Ed...Ed, did you hear me?"

I bit my tongue rather hard, and then winced, tasting blood. I seriously needed sleep.

"I don't recall. There was Iliea and Irwin and Corin and you and Ther, and Irwin is the one we've been suspecting for this entire time. We need to…question…him…"

The world started to blur again, and my words slowed, slurring together. I yawned.

"So…tired…"

The bed was awfully soft. I didn't remember lying down, but it didn't matter now. Nothing mattered now. Just sleep.

"Will he be all right?" I heard Peter's voice ask from above.

"Once he gets some rest, he will, Majesty," Windmane replied.

"No matter what he tries to tell you, don't let him out of bed until—"

I never heard the rest of what Peter was saying, for at that very moment I fell into a deep sleep that Windmane later told me reminded her of a rock.

TBC........