Ch 10: Disillusioned, Re-Enchanted
Cori ran into the woods, dodging the trees she could barely see through her tears. If I had the least feeling...the least feeling... That one statement had run her through like the rapier with which he'd taught her. Unable to hear more, she had bolted away.
He didn't care. Not in the least.
It didn't matter that she couldn't have him. The hurt of his rejection still tore at her. She fled deeper into the trees, wishing she'd never returned to Narnia. Never met Edmund. Never--
She rammed into a solid body. "Marchioness?"
She looked up to see one of the soldiers who had escorted her from Tolyndar. With her breath hitching, she wiped away tears. "Sir Elian."
"Is something wrong, Marchioness?" the soldier asked.
"No. No." She tried to step around him.
He grasped her elbow. "Allow me to escort you back to the castle."
"No, thank you." She lifted her chin. "I prefer to be alone."
"I must insist," the soldier added, firmer this time.
"Let go of me, please," she said. He didn't. Something in his eyes made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. "Sir, kindly release me."
His fingers dug into her sleeve, bruising her. "You forget your duties, Marchioness."
"I've forgotten nothing. Let go." She wrestled against his grip, wishing for her rapier. The rapier she'd used to learn swordfighting with Edmund. Edmund, who didn't want her. A fresh batch of tears threatened, and she tugged harder. "Remove your hand!"
"Release your hold on the lady, sir, or regret it."
Peter's voice.
Sir Elian looked up. His expression went blank, and his hand dropped away from Cori's arm. She resisted the urge to rub her elbow. The soldier gave her a bow completely lacking in respect, and strode away.
Peter moved closer once the soldier was gone. "Are you hurt?"
Her throat closed and tears brimmed in her eyes once more. She shook her head furiously and turned away.
His hand came down on her shoulder, feather-light compared to Elian's grip. "My lady."
She froze. Tears burned a path down her cheeks. She couldn't--wouldn't--look at him. Her pride was in shreds.
Peter stepped around her and bent his head to meet her gaze. "Forgive me. I behaved like the worst of mongrels."
"You--he--oh, saints, just go away," she said. She longed to be left alone to have her cry and be done with it. The least feeling...
"You heard him," Peter said softly. It wasn't a question.
She swallowed and lifted her chin. "It does not matter. Should not matter."
Peter brushed a tear from her face with his thumb. The corner of his mouth curved up a little. "What can I say, my lady? Edmund is an insensitive lout."
She gave a short, bitter laugh. "Your Majesty..."
He sighed, still watching her with those searching eyes. "Will you never call me Peter?"
She stepped back, gathering what remained of her pride. "Why should I? You hardly ever call me by my name. We barely speak. You only ever call me 'my lady,' and--"
"That's true," he said, catching her hand in his. His eyes went soft. He brought her hand to his lips and gave it a lingering kiss. His breath puffed across the back of her hand. "My. Lady."
Cori's mouth fell open. She remembered the look he'd given her across the great hall the night of the ball. The looks while they danced, and when they rode their horses through the forest. The one he'd given her the first moment he saw her when she returned to Narnia.
A touch of regret crossed his face. "Part of the problem with being the High King of anything is having to allow that, even then, it's possible to envy your little brother for something." He touched her cheek. "I am sorry, Cori."
She melted. She forgot all about Edmund, all about King Oro, all about anything except the way the apology in Peter's eyes tugged at her heart. And Cori, who had never so much as accepted a token from an admiring Telmarine knight, tipped her chin up and accepted her first kiss.