AN: I don't know what it is, but for some weird reason, I really like this chapter. I know the pacing is a little fast and there's a LOT of dialogue, and I'm a wee-bit worried I've tried to stuff too many events into one single chapter (blushes unsurely), but for some reason I can't even explain, I really like it, and I hope you all do too! Anywho, it picks up exactly where the last one left off.

"You were asleep," Lucy said soothingly. "It was just bad dreams."

Edmund swallowed and sat up.

"You know, Ed, it's very foolish to sleep on your back when you're prone to nightmares," she told him.

"Says who?" he demanded, not unkindly, though in a slightly raspy voice.

"Peter," she said simply. "He's dealt with insomniac patients before."

"I'm not insomniac," Edmund pointed out.

"Still," said Lucy, shrugging.

"What are you doing in here anyway?"

"You were screaming my name."

Edmund winced. "Was I?"

"Yes, in your sleep." Lucy got down on her knees so that they were eye-to-eye. "Loudly enough for the whole floor to hear. It was so clear that at first I thought you were awake."

"Why has no one else come, then?"

"Well," she explained, "Tumnus and Eustace are in the pantry, they couldn't sleep; now they're just eating up all of Clara's banana bread. Someone brought a sick child into the drawing room for Peter to attend to, so he isn't in his room, either. Alexander and Perry, I don't know where they are, they must have gone out, though I can't imagine why they would take off in the middle of the night. Aravis and Polly are with Peter, helping tend to the sick child. Gael fell asleep in the library again, so Susan just put a blanket over her then dozed off in a rocking chair herself. Raynbi's room is on the opposite landing, the wind on the balcony can drone out any sound coming from this direction. And Lilliandil, as you know, has gone to stay with other friends in the area for a bit, wedding planning and what-not. She won't be back at the mansion anytime soon."

"There was no one else to come," Edmund realized. "No one else heard me."

Lucy smiled and took his hand. "You're very cold."

"I'm all right."

"What was your dream about?"

Edmund shook his head. "Nothing, it was...silly..."

"I doubt it," Lucy said, giving the hand she still held a light squeeze. "Gael used to have night-terrors; she told us she saw dryads gone bad and wild with willowy twig-like hands coming at her throat."

"Gael has a very active imagination," Edmund commented dryly.

Lucy snort-laughed. "It was because the curtains were too long and the tree close to her window cast frightful shadows. Clara changed the curtains and she hasn't had bad dreams since."

If only it were that easy for me, Edmund thought wistfully, even a tough bitterly, stupid as it was to be envious of a little girl no bigger than a bug bite.

But, now, what was he to say to Lucy? He could say, truthfully enough, that he dreamed of her certain death and it upset him; Tumnus would approve greatly of such a smooth cover-up. Only the words seemed unable to pass his trembling lips. He could also say, maybe, that he had dreamed of graveyards and green mists, but then Lucy would think him mad, or at least pathetic, having a fear of ghosts and bad weather.

She mightn't have, really, but in his mind the dream was not scary without the thread of truth running through it. If that thread were cut, he should look very dense indeed.

However, he could not tell her the truth. And his three ground rules were coming back to him in earnest.

"I won't make fun of you, you know," Lucy reassured him. "I wouldn't."

Poor Lucy, so innocent, attributing him a simpleton's motives for keeping silent. Edmund sighed and noticed for the first time that she still had a grip on his hand. There was something so comforting about that innocence, stirring up emotions he hadn't expected to feel, laced with an entirely different kind of fear from the nightmare-induced one.

Where were you the night when I cried myself to sleep in Charn because my back hurt so badly? He wondered, thinking how much he would have liked to have her with him then, holding his hand like she was right now.

On second thought, in spite of the fact that she was bound to reach it eventually, should all go according to plan, Edmund paradoxically took back that very wish the second he wished it, not wanting her harmlessness tainted by Charn's cold, barren cruelty.

Without thinking, he sat up a little straighter and kissed her on the lips.

Lucy let out a little throaty sound of wordless surprise as he pulled away, gaping at him, stunned.

That had been completely unplanned, and Edmund knew if Tumnus or Eustace learned of it, he would never hear the end of the matter. He was, because he hadn't messed up before, to wing most small things; offering her the dagger, silencing the neighbors, giving her his marshmallow at the bonfire; but an out-right display of affection like that should have been used more strategically.

The thing was, he hadn't been thinking strategy-or of Jadis or Charn or his freedom. For that split second, it had just been himself and Lucy.

This was exactly what he was supposed to avoid; genuine attachment. And what exactly was he supposed to do or say now? This was happening all wrong. If only someone-anyone-else had heard him screaming and come to him. He would have had to come up with a lie to explain why he'd been screaming Lucy's name, but that would have been easier than this was.

"I..." stammered Edmund. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."

Lucy let go of his hand, still staring at him bug-eyed.

"Lucy," he said, in a less shaky tone, "I wasn't thinking. I must have been more shaken up than I..."

She bit her lower lip, blushing in the dark. "I didn't mind so much," Lucy blurted awkwardly.

Gaining full control of himself again, he leaned close to her face. "But I'm not telling you my nightmare."

"Why not?" She smiled, in anticipation of a jest.

"Because, unlike little Gael, I happen to like the curtains in my room." It was a poor attempt at humour, but somehow he knew Lucy would laugh at it anyway and that he would laugh right along with her, trying to shake off what was left of that incredibly random kiss.

The following morning, Edmund wanted nothing more than to be left alone, to have some time to think over what he'd done last night and to then promptly forget it and numb himself to any further lingering feelings.

Unfortunately, that was not going to happen, because shortly after breakfast-which of course meant sitting at that king's court sized table with everybody-Tumnus took him aside into his room, and insisted that there were some things they needed to go over immediately.

"Can't it wait?" Edmund couldn't help whining as the faun closed the door behind them.

"No, it cannot." Tumnus gave him a very serious look and pulled out a piece of paper from behind his back.

"Hey, where were you keeping that?" Edmund asked, blinking. "Did you even have that when we walked in here?"

"Never-mind that," said Tumnus. "Have a seat."

Edmund rolled his eyes and plopped down into a chair, feeling like an over-stressed child being forced to sit through dull lessons in a stuffy classroom when all he wants is to go outside and clear his head.

"I've figured out, Edmund, exactly how we are going to over-look this whole courtesan issue."

"You've built a magical carriage that travels back in time?" he said sarcastically.

"Don't be smart with me," the faun retorted. "And as a matter of fact, what we need to do, is not so much explain her away, but make you look like a saint."

"Yeah, good luck with that," Edmund snorted.

"All right, maybe not a saint, per say," Tumnus gave in, as that was a bit of a high bar to clear, "but definitely someone truly worthy of Lucy P. Ramandu."

"I stand by my aforementioned statement," he replied, wrinkling his nose.

"We'll play the 'young man rescued courtesan out of the goodness of his heart but has no interest in her' card."

"Well that's easy, as I don't have any interest in her-not of that sort, anyway."

"And we exaggerate how much you and Lucy have in common," Tumnus pressed on, undeterred. "That's what this paper is for." He flapped it emphatically. "From now on, Edmund Maugrim, whatever Lucy likes, you love it too; you think it's the best bloody thing ever and you'll dare anyone to disagree."

"What?" Edmund's voice grew almost squeaky with indignation.

"So, I've, from talking to Gael and Clara, made up a list of the things Lucy likes."

"Oh, boy." Edmund put his hand to his forehead; this was going to be a long, long morning. Why couldn't he just find out naturally what Lucy liked, from actually talking to her, instead of via a lesson he was being tested on? Surely, that would have been much, much easier!

"You like cinnamon in your porridge," Tumnus began.

"Fine." He shrugged; that wasn't untrue, he actually did like cinnamon, when it was available.

"You're also an aspiring young poet."

"No, I'm not." Edmund cocked his head at the faun. "No bloody way."

"Lucy likes poetry, and now so do you, young man."

"Fine, I'll like poetry, but I'll be dashed if you're going to make me write it."

Tumnus sighed heavily. "If that's the best you can do."

"Trust me, it is."

He cleared his throat. "Your favorite play is Bareface."

"Actually," Edmund corrected him, "it's the Odyssey." He had snuck into a theater once when the actors were preforming that, and liked it a great deal.

"No," grunted Tumnus impatiently, "you like Bareface." He flapped the paper again. "Says so right here."

"If you're going to make me into a spineless sap," Edmund exclaimed, "why don't you just make me like Romeo and Juliet and have done with it?"

"In a minute, you're going to have an intense interest in ballet and dream of one day preforming in the famous Beruna opera house," the faun threatened him. "So take what I give you with a grain of salt, and know it's for the best.

"You have a sick mind, Tumnus." He folded his arms across his chest.

"Your favorite flowers are roses."

"Of course they are." He rolled his eyes again.

"Now let's talk colours." The faun's face was dead-serious, but Edmund couldn't take it anymore. "I think your favorite colour should be salmon, because it's neutral and we don't want to be too obvious, having all the same favorites."

"By the Lion, Tumnus! Do you want her to think I'm a bloody pansy?" Edmund raised both of his eyebrows up as high as they would go.

"So a man who likes salmon is automatically not interested in women?"

"A man who knows what salmon even is definitely smacks of that impression."

"Wait." Tumnus help up a hand, suddenly catching onto something. "Did you just say, 'by the Lion'?"

"I think I did." Edmund felt his face recoil. "Where did that even come from?" He had never said that before.

"Well, where-ever it came from, keep it," ordered Tumnus, sighing approvingly, as if he thought there might just be hope for his charge yet. "According to Clara, Lucy is exceedingly fond of Aslan."

The door creaked and the latch lifted, having been closed improperly.

Edmund and Tumnus felt their hearts pounding and their breathing caught up in the very middle of their throats; someone had over-heard them...how much, they could only wonder fearfully.

Surely they would be found out and thrown out of Coriakin's mansion on their bums, Jadis waiting to make them suffer for botching things up so badly, for being lousy game pieces and making her lose this round. She would likely have her pawns beaten until they couldn't breathe without agonizing pain searing through them.

So it can only be imagined, the look on the faces of the boy and the faun, when in walked Eustace, alone and smirking.

"There once were two Traitors," he said smartly, "who wasted their time, not locking their doors and installing a chime."

"Bleh, dreadful!" Tumnus grimaced. "And that is exactly the sort of bad poetry, Edmund, that you should avoid corrupting poor Lucy's innocent taste with."

"You try coming up with a rhyme on the spot like that," frowned Eustace, coming in and shutting the door behind himself.

"Don't you ever knock?" Edmund demanded.

"What were you trying to do?" Tumnus added. "Frighten us to death?"

"I'm a guest here, too," snapped Eustace, looking, however snotty he sounded, a great deal more tranquil than usual, almost dazed. "I'll do as I please."

"Not in my room you won't," Edmund countered.

"Let's just keep our heads," Tumnus cut in. "Please, sit down, Eustace. I'm trying to make sure Edmund knows all of Lucy's favorite things by heart."

"Oh, never-mind about that," Eustace sighed, gazing out the window instead of sitting down like he was told. "I've got my own problems now."

"Oh, really?" Edmund gave him the stink-eye. "Well, I'm sorry that my trying to get us all our freedom isn't interesting enough to collide with your little world."

"Edmund, what do you think of the name Jill Pole?" Eustace turned around, his eyes had a clouded, besotted look about them.

"Uh...I don't really know..."

"You don't think it's the most beautiful name you ever heard?"

"Um, no."

"Well, you always were an ignorant fathead," Eustace stated, furrowing his brow, clearly less than pleased with his cousin's response.

"Please let me take a break so I can hit him!"

Tumnus grabbed Edmund's shoulder and forced him to stay sitting down. "No; learn now, hit later." To Eustace, he said, "And who is this Jill Pole person, anyway?"

"A girl I met today," Eustace told them. "I saw her walking down the road leading a donkey." He sighed again, very melodramatically. "I swear, cousin, time stopped when our eyes met." Then, "The only problem was that, once it started up again, she was gone."

"So, basically," Edmund said sardonically, "you saw some girl you thought was attractive, stared at her slack-jawed and motionless, then didn't even realize she had left your presence?"

Eustace came crashing back down to earth, practical enough that his cousin's words had some effect on him. "Yeah, pretty much," he murmured at the floor.

"How did you even learn her name?" Tumnus asked, a little curious in spite of himself.

"I heard the donkey say it," said Eustace.

"Bravo, Useless." Edmund clapped his hand together in a mocking gesture. "Even the story of how you met the love of your life is as incredibly boring as those books you like reading."

"Lucy likes some of those same books," Tumnus put in sharply. "So don't insult them until we've gone over which ones."

"I can't take this anymore." Edmund stood up, struggling until Tumnus had to give in and release his shoulder. "I'm going for a walk, and maybe I'm going to talk to Lucy while I'm at it."

"You're not prepared," Tumnus protested, pointing pathetically at the paper.

"Blast the paper!" Edmund made a fast-walking dash for the door, grabbing onto the latch and forcing it up. "And if I do talk to Lucy, it sure as the bloody sunrise won't be about the colour salmon!" He charged out of the room broodingly and slammed the door behind himself.

"Blimey!" exclaimed Eustace with widened eyes. "What's the matter with him?"

Edmund stormed down the hallway, so cranky that he even kicked over a decorative plant (which he immediately went back and set up straight again, because it wasn't his house, after all; he wasn't a complete brute).

Passing by Perry's room, he heard what sounded like a woman weeping.

He crept close to the door, which was open just the slightest crack, and pressed his eye into the gap; all he could make out was the back of a woman with long, dark hair (he was certain it was the same woman who had shown up in his room not too long ago, calling herself Lord Perry's wife and refusing to let him see her face). Then he caught a glimpse of Perry, who appeared to be trying to comfort the woman, as well as to muffle the noise of her crying-an aching, piercing sound which refused to be muffled, causing him to give up and stick more strictly to mere comforting.

"Everyone will find me out," cried the woman, burring her face in Perry's shoulder. "I can't hide like this. I'll start to show soon."

"What if we confessed, told them everything...?" Perry's voice sounded troubled and uncertain.

"This was your idea, Perry," whispered the woman. "And there's a reason I agreed to it, for all my bemoaning it. Because it's the only way."

"We have to tell Peter, at least," he said quietly. "He's our physician, he needs to know."

"He can't." The woman shook her head. "What if he sends me back? I can't go back there, Perry. I want to stay with you; I love you. You drive me mad sometimes, but I can't fathom being without you."

"You'll never be without me," he swore, wrapping his arms all the way around her. "I'll never let it happen; never!"

"How can you promise that? How?"

He rubbed her back. "Because I love you, too. If they take you away, I'll go after you. I will find you."

"And in what condition do you hope to find me, Perry?" she sobbed, pulling as close to him as humanly possible while he continued stroking her lower back. "What if I can't carry it full term? What if I get ill? What if my last breath is spent bringing it into the world, hoping you'll come in before my eyes close for ever, and you can't be there? What then?"

"That's why I've changed my mind," Perry replied wearily. "That's why I think we need to tell Peter the truth and beg him to help us."

"No!"

"Alexan-"

"How can you even suggest that?"

Edmund strained his ears; he knew that it was none of his business, really, but he could have sworn that Perry had almost started to call his wife 'Alexander' before she cut him off.

"It's not nice to spy at people's doors," said Lucy's voice as she came up behind him.

Edmund turned around and sneered, "It's worse to spy on someone spying at someone's door!" Tumnus wouldn't have liked him sneering at the girl he was supposed to have practically everything in common with, but he didn't care, not right then.

"Where did you hear that?" laughed Lucy, standing with her hands behind her back.

There came a gasp from inside the room. "Perry, the door!"

Perry let go of his wife, got up off the bed they had been sitting on together, and slammed it shut in Edmund's face, undoubtedly wondering how much the little sneak had heard.

"Who was that in there with Lord Perry just now?" Edmund wondered aloud.

"I don't know," Lucy said meekly, wondering why it mattered. "I only saw the back of a head."

"Me too." He took a few steps away from the wood of the door. "But don't you think it's weird, Perry being in there alone with a girl?"

"What's wrong with that?" asked Lucy, honestly unsure of what he was getting at.

"Oh, forget it." Edmund didn't care that much; he was already growing bored of the topic.

"Where did you go off to, after breakfast?" Lucy wanted to know. "You didn't even come down for luncheon."

Edmund scowled. "I was detained in a business meeting with Tumnus."

"Oh, I see." She remembered seeing Eustace leave the mansion earlier and finding herself thinking that perhaps Edmund was avoiding her on purpose because he was embarrassed about kissing her the night before when she woke him up from his nightmare. Now, she thought she had probably been wrong. Edmund did look tired and irritable, like he'd been listening to too much business talk and needed a break desperately.

"Lucy, can I tell you something?"

"Of course." She smiled encouragingly.

"My favorite play is The Odyssey," he blurted out, more to spite Tumnus (he hated everyone at the moment, including the faun, his cousin, and himself) than for any other reason. "I know you probably prefer Bareface, but I don't. And I don't have a favorite flower, so don't bother asking me that, ever."

Lucy crinkled her forehead and stared at him strangely, taken aback. "I like Bareface a great deal, but I also enjoy the Odyssey. And, I...I don't mind that you don't like flowers."

I didn't say I hated all flowers, thought Edmund. Out loud, he said, in a much more level tone, "Oh. That's all right, then."

"Are you all right?" She was beginning to worry about him.

"Getting better, I think." He inhaled sharply, then let it out.

"That's good."

"I'm sorry for being so harsh, Lu," Edmund told her. "I'm a little tired."

"It's all right," Lucy said, looking down at her feet momentarily.

"I'm just under a lot of stress."

"No, really, I understand."

"Lu, don't you ever stay angry with anyone?" he blurted out before he could help himself.

"I try not to," Lucy said, with a little shrug of indifference. "Peter says holding grudges is bad for a person's over-all health."

"Yes, because it's obviously that and not that you're incapable of having an argument longer than the duration of maybe thirty minutes, and only if you're in a terrible mood."

"Why do you care so much about my not arguing with people?"

"I don't know." He scuffed the side of his bare foot against the floor. "Maybe I'm a little jealous."

Her furrowed expression of confusion faded and her smile returned. "You shouldn't be; if you didn't argue sometimes, you wouldn't be you." Blushing and lowering her voice she added, "And, well, I like you, Edmund."

Well, he thought darkly, there's one area Tumnus is not going to get me to agree with her on.

But, there! She had finally said it; she did like him, all was going according to plan. And it was making him feel rather sick to his stomach, like he wanted to hurl (preferably, himself, off one of the mansion's various balconies).

He could practically hear Tumnus and Eustace hissing in his ears, "Say it! Say you like her, too!"

All that came out of his mouth, however, was a sort of muttered, "I have to go," before he vanished down the hallway and back into his own room.

"Look who's back," said Tumnus, a little peevishly, upset with him for walking out like he had.

"Fine, you were right," Edmund grumped. "I wish I'd stayed. Does that give you pleasure?"

"Cousin Edmund, what's amiss?" Eustace actually looked at him with a somewhat worried expression. "Are you ill? Your eyes are watering."

"I'm fine," he groused, picking up a pillow and throwing it at his cousin's head. "Just get out; and take Tumnus with you!"

As soon as they were gone, Edmund lifted up the floorboard that was his latest hiding place for his stash of Toffee-Leaves. He had a whole lot of problems he was just dying to forget, and a ton of muscles aching to be unclenched; starting with the ones in his jaw as he slowly began chewing on the first leaf he pulled out and placed in his mouth.

He must have fallen asleep after getting a bit of a high, because he woke later, passed out on the rug by the unlit fireplace, one arm covered in soot and ashes, to the sound of a knock on his door.

"Who's there?" murmured Edmund groggily, sitting up and sneezing.

"It's Tumnus."

"Oh, hold up." He stood, walked over, and unlatched the door.

"What happened to you?" The faun noticed his sooty state and glazed-looking eyes.

"Don't worry about it," he moaned. "I'm really tired. What do you need now?"

"I hope you're not too tired," said Tumnus, almost apologetically; "because Lucy's going to a gathering tonight at one of Clara's friend's houses in the village. I think you should escort her."

"If I say no," Edmund asked, feeling with his tongue around the inside of his mouth, which tasted like crud and dirty sugar, making his words slur together a bit, "are you going to make me go over that blasted paper again?"

"It wouldn't hurt."

"Yes, it would. I'll go."

"Good boy."

"Tumnus..."

"Yeah?"

"I really hate this."

"Stay strong. Soon it will all be over."

"I'll be downstairs in five minutes, is that sufficient?"

"Should be."

"Tumnus, are the stores still open today? In the village, I mean."

"I should think so, but only perhaps for another hour at best."

"Could you run down and buy me something?"

"Can it wait till tomorrow?"

Edmund made a so-so motion with his hand. "Eh..."

"All right, what's so important?" the faun sighed, giving in.

"It's for Lucy," he informed him.

"Oh, that's different."

"Thought you would say that." He nodded. "Green cloak, velvet, larger size if possible."

"Lucy's petite," Tumnus pointed out.

"So? The bigger the cloak, the more warmth she'll get from it when..." His voice trailed off; he didn't need to say more, and it was dangerous to say more anyway, lest they be over-heard.

"Think she'll have the good sense to take it with her if she goes after you?"

"I really hope so."

"Susan would," whispered Tumnus sadly. "Too bad about her connection to her brother, otherwise it could have been her instead."

"I know, but it still would have hurt," Edmund decided. "Just in a different way."

Five minutes later, Edmund went downstairs to find Lucy waiting for him. She was wearing a fairly plain, ankle-length, purplish-gray dress that Susan had picked out for her; it lacked Lucy's usual taste of more vibrant shades (golds, reds, even various hues of sky blue), giving her rather a different look than her normal clothes did, but Susan nevertheless still had a gift for selecting clothing that was neat and pleasant to look at as well as flattering, whatever colour it was.

Lucy laughed almost hysterically when she saw Edmund.

"It's the hat, isn't it?" Edmund said, taking it off and stashing it behind a large ceramic vase. Tumnus had insisted on his wearing a rather absurd-looking top-hat; he had tried to tell the faun it made him look like a real idiot, but they hadn't seen eye-to-eye on the matter.

"I'm sorry!" Lucy pressed her hand to her mouth until the remainder of her laughter subsided. It wasn't that there was anything wrong with the hat in itself, per-say, but it did look very funny on Edmund, and part of her was quite glad he took it off, because otherwise she didn't know how she would avoid giggling every time she glanced in his direction.

"It's all right," Edmund laughed along with her. "It's a horrendous hat, really."

"You can pick on the dull dress, if you want," Lucy told him generously.

"Nah, no thanks." He pulled a wad of crinkly wrapping paper out from under his arm. "Here, though, I think this might help."

"What is it?" asked Lucy excitedly, coming forward and taking the rather dilapidated-looking parcel from Edmund.

"Open it and find out."

She ripped the paper and her fingers brushed against a length of the softest green velvet she'd ever felt in her life. "No! You didn't!"

"Surprise!"

"I can't believe you remembered!" she exclaimed. "But I told you I didn't need a cloak."

"Business has been going good," he said. A little too good, unfortunately; but it wasn't as if he could freely tell her that.

"It's beautiful." She kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you."

She liked the cloak so well, in fact, that she didn't even check it at the door when they reached the gathering, long and heavy though it was; she just draped it over her arm and carried it around with her.

In spite of the fact that everyone was thrilled to see Lucy there (any friends of Clara's were friends of hers, as well), they didn't really see much of her that night.

"Where did Lucy Ramandu and that young man she arrived with get off to?" asked one dryad, helping herself to a bit of wine.

"Last I saw, they went into the study at the back of the house," someone answered.

"Are they still in there?"

"I think so."

"What are they even doing in there?"

Behind the oaken-wood study-door, Edmund exclaimed, "Checkmate!" putting Lucy's purple-glass king in check.

They had wandered in there for no real reason, laughing madly over something funny that had happened when a dancing faun accidentally crashed into a refreshment table, when they saw there was a very fancy glass chess set and matching glass checkered board on display in the very centre of a maze-like configuration of maple-wood shelves and pear-wood chairs with white-and-cream raised brocade cushions.

Lucy had asked Edmund if he played or not, and the next thing they both knew, they were in the middle of a mini chess tournament.

"Best ten out of twenty?" Edmund offered after Lucy gently placed her king-piece down sideways, admitting defeat.

"You're on." She smiled and began rearranging the pieces.

An hour later, it was Lucy's turn to say, "Checkmate!"

By pure accident, Edmund knocked his king-piece down too hard and it broke in half, also leaving a little crack in the board itself. "Oops."

Lucy pressed her hand to her mouth.

"I'm guessing the queen-piece is going to have take the throne in his stead."

Lucy's shoulders shook with laughter.

Edmund fully intended to pay for the person who owned the set to get the crack mended and the king replaced, but, just for the fun of it, he made a break for the nearest window, ready to sneak out. "I think it's time for me to go."

"Go?" gasp-laughed Lucy.

His eyes shifted to the broken glass, then back to the window he was opening. "Care to join me?"

Looking both ways, even though she knew perfectly well there was no one else in there besides the two of them, Lucy took his hand and climbed out with him.

Laughing so hard they thought their sides would split open, they ran hand in hand down the road, glancing occasionally over their shoulders, as if at some imaginary pursuer.

They ducked into the back door of a theater to take 'refuge' and accidentally walked in on a bunch of actors eating and drinking after a late show.

Fortunately, the actors didn't seem upset; in fact, a few of them were slightly intoxicated and probably thought they knew the walk-ins from somewhere they couldn't place.

They sat with them for a bit, even eating with them, but Edmund fully drew the line when someone offered Lucy a cup of tea with a strong, sickly-sweet, yet very sharp, odor coming up from the steam.

"Don't drink it," he hissed in her ear. "Not even one sip."

"Why not?"

"It's laced with Toffee-Leaves, can't you smell that?"

"How do you know what Toffee-Leaves smell like?" Lucy had never smelled them before in her life.

"Just put it down," Edmund hissed, avoiding the question. "Trust me."

They left after that, racing each other back up the hill to the mansion, panting for breath when they arrived.

"I won!" Lucy squealed.

"You did not," Edmund teased, fake-sneering at her. "I was way ahead of you."

Lucy stuck out her tongue at him, pushing open the doors and almost collapsing with laughter under the coat hooks. Wiping tears of mirth from her eyes, she hung up her new velvet cloak and let out a sigh of contentment.

"Lucy!" cried an urgent little voice.

"Gael." Lucy's face dropped to see Gael coming to her as pale as if she had laid eyes on an apparition. "Gael, what is it? What's the matter?"

"There's a letter," she said hurriedly. "A letter from the east; from Cair Paravel!"

"Yes, so?" King Frank had often written to their father; he was a Duke, after all.

"I...I'm not sure; it's something about you, it must be," Gael gasped out, grabbing onto one of her elder sister's hands. "Father and Peter said I was to bring you to them the second you came back into the house. Come on, you must come."

"I'm coming," she assured her, letting Gael tug her hand down several corridors and under three different arches till they reached the study Coriakin, Peter, and Susan were seated in, waiting for her.

It was none of Edmund's business, so he was not invited in. If Lucy had thought of it, she would have grabbed his hand and dragged him in behind her, but she did not think of it, and she was already shut up inside the study with her family by the time she realized he had been left outside.

The virtue of that particular study, though, was that the door was partially made of glass, and Edmund found that if he stood close enough, he could get a glimpse into the room.

He could not see very much, only Lucy standing before a high-backed chair, and what looked like Peter's hands placing a letter into her own.

Lucy appeared to read the letter, looking up over it at her brother, sister, and father, asking what could it mean. Then, understanding dawning across her shock-stricken face, her knees and ankles gave way and she fell back into the chair, grasping at both arms, looking very pale and impossibly small in the seat that was far too large for her to fill.

AN: Please leave a review.