Lucy couldn't imagine how Edmund, in his current state where being able to drink a few sips of water and to hold down a drop of soup seemed like nothing short of a miracle, would possibly be able to rise and dress himself to go dancing. He might try; if she knew him at all, she knew he wouldn't back out on the bargain, that his will was nothing more than to keep his end, but she couldn't picture him lifting his head or dragging his feet so much as a step over the threshold without fainting from exhaustion. Simply put, it was impossible.
It made Lucy wonder, however, exactly what would happen if Edmund didn't show up at the fairy court that night. Would the queen come looking for him? Or would her reaction be less swift but twice as biting? If only she knew the whole story, more than just the snippets she'd picked up, then she felt almost certain she could solve this mystery. The seemingly easiest way would have been for Edmund himself to tell her; but she knew better than to hope for that. She'd lost that chance. He would say nothing; she had to rescue him without his help-maybe even without his consent.
This time she didn't even bother with the decoy-dress, already wearing the doublet and tights as she strolled into the room unescorted (except for Peter, who looked at her with a resigned sense of frustration directed at her unending persistence, and shook his head as he vanished down the corridor). Edmund knew the truth, he knew that he went to the fairy court every night, and he knew perfectly well that Lucy was going to follow him. No amount of lies and coughs on his part was going to hinder her from going after him. She even toyed with the idea of not wearing the invisibility cloak that night, since he would expect her to follow him anyway, but she decided it wouldn't be the wisest course. She needed as much protection as she could get, even if it was just a way to make herself unseen. On a thin, dark-brown, braided leather belt strapped haphazardly around the middle of the doublet, Lucy had fastened the dagger Edmund had given her earlier. She wasn't sure of what its real significance was, but she gathered that it was important and wanted to keep it near her person that night.
The strokes of midnight began to ring and Edmund stood from his bed shakily, nearly falling flat on his thin, sweat-encased face. Hastily he inhaled deeply, fighting back a raspy cough, as he clutched the side of the bedpost.
His lips trembled. "Lion give me strength," he muttered, pulling himself up with the piteous motion of a solider wounded in a battle, desperate to press on no matter what.
Anxiously, the ribbon a cloak again-clasped around her invisible shoulders, Lucy watched the prince stumble over to his wardrobe, rummaging for his clothes. As she had on the previous two nights, she looked away, but her concern made her shift her gaze back a little too quickly, and she happened to see him without a shirt on. His back was as ghostly white as his frail, thin-cheeked face, a sharp contrast to his dark hair, and she noticed that-even in the darkness-she could almost see his ribs on one side.
Once he was dressed, though she noticed he had forgotten his boots and was trailing a thin stream of blood along the corridor from the soles of his feet, he started for the stables. It occurred to her just then that when she had seen his bloody feet before, it had never been in the corridor. It had been in the stirrups, in the ballroom at the fairy court, even in his bed, but never in the corridor. Lucy had never thought of it before, but now she wondered if he had, in spite of his delirium, actually been trying not to get blood on the floor in the corridor so no one would know of his leaving. Was Prince Edmund too sick to even bother with such attempts now?
Phillip was horrified when he saw Edmund standing before him, leaning clumsily on the wood of the stall-door, begging his horse to carry him off.
"I will not take you, go back to bed." The gelding tried, feeling that he must hold his ground.
Edmund's glassy eyes shifted, as they had on the first night, to Susan's Isbjorn.
"No, your Highness, you wont guilt me into it again!" Phillip's accent became peppered with angry neighs.
"Phillip," coughed Edmund; his head felt so heavy, like trying to hold up a brick wall. "If you care about me at all, you'll do as I tell you."
"But-"
"No buts, horsey." said Edmund rather tartly.
Phillip tossed back his mane and snorted, "My name is Phillip!" as if the young prince didn't already know perfectly well what it was.
"Whatever," he groaned, rubbing his temples. "I haven't got all night, either you'll carry me, or you won't and I steal Princess Susan's horse."
The gelding gave in. "Fine, climb on my back."
"You're the best, Phillip." Edmund wheezed hollowly into his left palm.
The horse let out a snort and tossed his proud mane back again, clearly insulted, worried, and frustrated all at once.
The ride to the fairy-court was silent with no excitement save for when Phillip slowly lost his ability to talk and think clearly, and when Edmund nearly fell off about half a dozen times, needing Lucy to pull him up by collar of the billowy shift he wore under his royal-blue tunic so that he didn't tumble to the ground.
He knew she was there, but he didn't speak to her, and she, in turn, didn't say a word to him. On Prince Edmund's end it was a mixture of illness, fear, and pride that kept him quiet; for Lucy, it was her head whirling with thoughts and plans, trying to think of a way to save him. After all, she had promised King Frank that she would put an end to it all that very night-this was her last chance. Edmund's last chance, too; he'd never survive another night like this; goodness knew he might not survive the one they were currently pushing their way through.
The only thing she could think to do was gather up crackernuts again. Proof wasn't really what she needed now, but Lucy didn't think snapping some more silver nuts down from the trees and keeping a handful of them on her person with the dagger could hurt. She might need them for something; they had proven handy for getting the wand away from the little fairy girl the night before, hadn't they?
Once they were at the fairy-court, Tumnus helped Edmund down whispering, "She's followed you again, hasn't she?"
Edmund winced. "Of course she has."
Lucy knew they were talking about her and was unsure if that was a good thing, a bad thing, or simply a meaningless comment. They both knew, she knew they both knew, it very likely didn't matter. It wouldn't help her save him, Tumnus could do nothing, Peter was too far away-back at Cair Paravel-and at any rate didn't believe her still, so she had to do this one on her own.
"Her Majesty is in a rather grumpy mood tonight," Master Tumnus warned Prince Edmund shortly in a sharp-though not unkind-whisper. "She had a headache this morning, the crown she wanted to wear for a certain event was improperly polished by the servant left in charge, and she's cross because the food at tonight's ball is not quite to her liking."
"Great," muttered Edmund sarcastically, "that's just what I need."
"I say, your Highness, can you dance tonight?"
"I have to, whether or not I can."
"But, Prince Edmund, your feet..."
"They're bleeding, I know." he groaned snappishly.
"Yes, but they're..." Tumnus grimaced and swallowed hard before going on. "...very white under all that blood, and you're standing on them...wrong..."
Lucy glanced down and wanted to cry when she saw it for herself. The prince might have been white all over; but the discolouring in his feet was no less the obvious for it. Up until that point she had assumed he was walking with the sides of his feet pushed out like that because he was trying to loosen up the pain a bit; now she saw it was because he couldn't walk any other way. Something worse than just bleeding was happening to his feet.
"Can you feel your heels or toes at all?" asked Master Tumnus.
Edmund closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall. "No,"
"What are you going to do?" Tumnus gently gripped the boy's shoulders and helped him up from the wall before he slid down it.
"Same thing I do every night;" Edmund whispered as he fought back a round of tears, "give me some wine."
"You shouldn't drink when you're this ill..."
"Are you my friend or my mother? Just give me a glass and take me into the ballroom before the queen has a fit, understand?"
Tumnus bowed, biting his lower lip to hold back all the things he really wanted to say. "Yes, your Highness."
Edmund swallowed the wine quickly, then, moments later, his stomach heaved, his mouth opened, and there was a reddish-purple stain on the floor right beside his nearly-invalid feet.
Figures he'd throw it up after all that, Lucy thought a little harshly, though she felt more pity than anything else. Most of her anger was saved up for the fairy queen.
While Edmund danced with the fairies, Lucy started looking around for Gael again; she thought perhaps the little fairy-girl would have something like the wand that had made Susan pretty again, maybe something that could help Edmund this time.
"Are you there, Lucy of Ettinsmoor?" a voice whispered, quietly searching the room for her.
Lucy turned around; a few inches away, Tumnus was standing very still, listening for her presence, pretending to be intent on serving some sort of crab-puff on a silver tray to the fairy queen's ladies as they passed by.
"How are you, Master Tumnus?" she whispered to the faun when she'd crept close enough not to be over-heard by anyone else.
"Well, thank you, but Prince Edmund is weaker than ever."
"I know, I have to help him." said Lucy.
"Earlier this evening, one of the queen's favored ladies gave Gael a silver apple with a golden core and steam, from which hangs the leaf of a sparking herb." He tapped his goat feet on the floor to pretend he was murmuring along with the music as a sort of faun-humming. "Take it from her and give it to Edmund, it will heal him."
"He can't keep anything down." Lucy couldn't help protesting. In her head she was already trying to figure out if he meant the herb or the apple.
"Then you had better hurry," the faun warned her, not unkindly. "Be comforted; it will only take three bites."
The apple, it definitely had to be the apple. There wasn't enough of the herb to get three bites out of it. Either way, she'd get those bites to him, by hook or by crook.
When Lucy finally found Gael in the corner rolling the silver apple around as if it were just any silly little plaything of no real importance other than to amuse her for a few moments, she rolled the crackernuts out as she had the night before, hoping it would work again. Thankfully it did, and she soon had the shinny fruit tucked under her invisibility cloak for safe-keeping.
"He's not moving, your Grace." Someone reported to the queen in a rather loud voice.
Lucy whipped her head around and saw Edmund lying unconscious on the floor, not having even been able to make it to the couch before he passed out.
"Fan him," the queen ordered sulkily, her beautiful, full lips pouted in a sign of displeasure at the interruption. "He will rise."
And fan him they did, for nearly half-an-hour, but he didn't stir. His feet were dripping with sweat and blood, his face a moist mess cut-up and worn-out, he laid as limp as if he were a corpse.
"Edmund!" Lucy whispered, only because she dared not shout and give herself away.
Pushing her unseen way through several confused fairy-ladies in silken gowns with gold and silver threads running through them, Lucy grabbed onto one of Edmund's hands and squeezed it as tightly as she could possibly risk. Please wake up, don't go, not now!
Lucy could feel a distant pulse fighting to keep pumping, to keep living, to keep going on.
She knew that the fairies would do nothing more than fan him, very likely letting him die in the process while the fairy-queen's glower of disappointment she would do nothing about hovered over them. Lucy was instantly filled with a hatred for the unfeeling queen so intense that she decided to risk it all, snatching poor Edmund out right from under their royal noses. Grabbing onto his arms, she began dragging the dying prince away from the ballroom, lifting the weak, fragile, unresisting body up inch by inch as she gained a better grip and more bravery with each step.
"Hey!" a dim-witted fairy-lady exclaimed first, clearly confused. "He's drifting away-like a current."
"Don't be stupid!" the queen rose angrily from her throne and glided over to where Lucy was dragging the prince away, grabbing the girl by her invisible cloak and ripping part of if off.
At first, Lucy was stunned-a bit impressed, even-thinking that the queen had somehow seen her, and that that was how she had known it was not some unseen force dragging the prince of Narnia away, but a little princess from Ettinsmoor, determined to save her friend. Actually, the queen had not seen her at all, but fairies have other senses-just as they have other emotions-ones that humans cannot have or understand, and these senses, stronger than mere sight, finally alerted her to Lucy's presence at the court.
Slowly, her eyes drifted from the flashing, angry face of the queen to the floor where the strip of her cloak that was torn off had become a straggly looking ribbon scrap, vaguely resembling the beautiful material it had once been. Everyone could see her now, the cloak was ruined, offering no more protection than any other ripped garment could.
"Who are you?" The fairy queen spoke each world with an emotionless air of importance, as if to warn the princess she was treading on dangerous ground.
"I am Lucy," she replied, not without forced politeness.
"What are you doing in my court?"
For a moment, Lucy was afraid, she almost cowered, nearly broke down into pleas for mercy, then it all flooded back to her: everything this queen had put Edmund through. It was this very queen who made him dance each night, never caring that it was slowly killing him; she who compelled him to come back even when he was his weakest, holding some sort of unyielding power over him. This was not a person that deserved fear, nor awe, nor any other wasted emotions. This queen, this fairy, deserved nothing more than the cold hard truth, and Lucy was no longer afraid to give it.
"I've come to take Edmund away." Lucy told her boldly. "Away from this court for ever and ever; you will not make him come here ever again."
"Is that so?" The queen seemed amused, although because fairies have unique facial expressions, partial to their own race, Lucy couldn't be sure.
"Yes," said Lucy.
"Do you know, foolish human girl, why he comes here every night?" asked the fairy queen, stepping forward, her long fingers curled around her scepter.
"Because he made a bargain with you to save his elder brother's life when he was nine years old." Lucy whispered in a far-off tone as if she were trying to piece the puzzle that was Edmund's story together into one whole picture while she said it.
"Has he told you this himself?"
Lucy shook her head. "No, he hasn't." At least, not all of it.
One of the queen's golden curls gleamed stiffly where it clung near to her other-worldly cheek, looking-to Lucy-rather like a coiled gold-coloured snake ready to spring.
For a moment both human girl and fairy-queen stood and stared at each other, each unrelenting, when suddenly the fairy's eyes flashed the colour of lightning and she reached out to grab the girl by her hair.
Lucy was too quick, somehow guessing what the queen meant to do before she did it, jumping out of the way. As the fairy-queen lunged for her again, this time aiming at her arm, Lucy pulled the dagger out of the copper sheath to defend herself with.
A fight ensued; queen defending her rights; Princess of Ettinsmoor, heroine of Narnia, protecting the prince and her own skin as well. The fairy queen was both larger and stronger than the only thirteen-year-old Lucy was, and probably had the upper hand in the fight. Surely she would have won right away if her ladies had thought to help her-but they were too enthralled and goose-eyed at the moment to do much of anything, eager to see how things turned out, though they clearly believed their queen was going to win anyhow.
Actually, she would have won a few moments after the-for the lack of a better word-scuffle began, if Lucy had not happened to free herself for a moment, stagger upwards, and take four steps back without looking behind before the queen could make another grab at her.
For during those steps, the princess heard something crunch under her feet. That something was none other than one of the crackernuts she had rolled out to Gael earlier. In light of the fight, the shinny little objects had been abandoned in favor of staring in horror and quietly crying by turn.
The important thing, however, is not that Gael forgot at least one of the crackernuts, it is that when Lucy stepped on it, accidentally placing the heel of her foot on its weakest point, she caused a large crack to cut right through the silver. This was quite surprising, for she had believed them to be solid and not broken by something as simple as clumsy footing, but more odd still was that she could see a little stream of what looked like white-light peeping out from the sleek crack.
When the queen came at her again, instead of sticking her dagger out at the nearest part of the fairy's body, she plummeted down to the floor, shoving the blade as deeply into the crack in the silver nut as it would go. The force split the crackernut in two, and suddenly the ballroom was bathed in a light as pure as rain.
From the open crackernut there flew out a swarm of fire-flies unlike any Lucy had ever seen before, small and snow-coloured, and perfectly bright. Amongst them there were a flock of black-birds rather like ravens with iron beaks, snapping angrily.
The queen hissed and bayed in horror, leaping away from the birds and fire-flies, placing her weight every time she stepped or landed, on the stem of her scepter so as to save her energy and to keep her always one step away from the snapping beaks.
"Lucy," a voice murmured; Edmund's eyes were opening, and he was grabbing onto the ends of her doublet to pull himself up.
"Edmund!"
"Tumnus?" Edmund murmured, noticing the faun was near-by, having been particularly anxious about Lucy though not daring to jump in and help her, lest the queen's rage turn on him.
"Your highness, I-" he stammered, ashamed for behaving a coward.
"A sword, Master Tumnus, hand me a sword." croaked Edmund, peering out from between his eyelashes.
"You're too weak to lift one!"
"Trust me!"
His hands shaking, the faun handed the prince the lightest sword he could grab on such short notice.
Using all his remaining strength to lift the blade up by its glittering jewel-encrusted hilt, Edmund wielded it so that when the queen-still fleeing the ravens-came near enough, it sliced her scepter in half; she came crashing down onto the floor and the birds cawed wildly as they flew at her.
Groaning, Edmund fell backwards into Lucy's now out-stretched arms, murmuring, "Run, you idiot."
Ignoring the fact that he had just called her an idiot, she pulled him up onto Phillip's back (either Tumnus or another confused faun had brought him out to them) and dug her heels into the horse's sides, urging him to carry them away as quickly as possible.
AN: (ducks to avoid rotten cabbage) Hey, which one of you threw that? LOL. Yes, I know you probably all hate me for ending the chapter there, but please be so kind as to channel that rage into a review.