Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: "Life is a reflection of intent. Love reflects love. Hate reflects hate." - Jonathan Lockwood Huie

Can the reflection in the ocean waves be trusted?

A/N: If you have not read the first six stories in the A Light in the Darkness main story arc (Awakened, Shadowed, Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, and Refracted), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Twenty-One: Questions

Holding his sword in front of him, Edmund stepped into his opponent's strike. Parry. Thrust. Watch the shield, step left. Parry. Sneak under his guard. Strike for the heart. Panting, he lowered Shafhelm, resting the point of the sword on the marble floor.

A whisper of skirts caught his attention. Automatically tightening his grip on the hilt of the sword, he straightened when he glanced over his shoulder to see Lady Leto standing just inside the door. She offered a shy smile. "Forgive me, Your Majesty, I did not mean to interrupt."

Edmund dipped his head, more than aware of how disheveled he must look standing in a sweat-soaked undertunic even with the sleeves shoved up. "You are not interrupting, Lady Leto. I welcome the opportunity for a brief pause."

Pale fingers plucking at her purple skirts, Leto ducked her head slightly but he was pleased that her smile hadn't faded. "I…I apologize if I seem forward, but might I ask why you practice so often?"

"Well, the good General would have my head if I ever used inclement weather as an excuse to not participate in training even if it is but a series of drills and warm-up exercises." Sheathing Shafhelm, Edmund shrugged as he picked up a towel he'd snatched from the washstand in his room and patted the sweat off his face and neck.

"He is very strict?"

Edmund gave her a slight smile. "Oreius is as strict as he needs to be, Lady, and he is most insistent that my brother and I participate in training every day of the week save Seventhday. Were it not for his rigorous and most ruthless plans to mold us into flawless swordsmen (no matter how long this might take), I know that neither of us would be alive today."

She nodded, peeking at him from beneath full lashes. Then she stepped forward, a hint of a blush adding color to her fair skin, as she hesitantly asked, "Would it be too bold of me to request you teach me? Just a little. Maybe something with a knife? I- I'd like to be able to protect myself or at least know I could feign at knowing enough to protect myself until someone who was skilled with weapons could reach me."

He suspected her desire to learn to look fierce was prompted by all that had happened to her this week. And who could blame her, really? "Well, I must confess that Lucy is far better at wielding a dagger than Peter or I could hope to be (though Oreius has set Lucy's tutor concerning the dagger to working with us as well). However, I believe I can at least teach you how to look as though you are comfortable with the blade. Here," he drew his dagger and extended it hilt-first toward her. "Take this."

Once Leto wrapped her fingers around the hilt, Edmund gave a slight encouraging nod. "You need to adjust your grip a little, like this." Moving a little closer, he adjusted her grip where it wasn't so flimsy. "Remember you want to hold the knife like you are ready and willing to do whatever it takes to defend yourself. It's not a dinner knife, it's a tool that could save your life. Better."

She glanced up nervously. "This is correct?"

Edmund nodded. "Yes, now step forward with the knife out. I want you to threaten me, make me believe that you will use that blade to defend yourself with even if no one is around to rescue you."

Leto took a single step forward before the knife, and the glint of determination in her hazel eyes, faltered. Knife lowering, the girl stammered, "I'm s-sorry, I…I can't."

Forgetting about his current state of dishevel, Edmund closed the distance between them, gently extracting the dagger from her limp fingers before touching her shoulder with his free hand. "It's all right. Believe me, there is no shame in being unable to act with the intent to harm another living being." As she turned her head toward him, he caught the scent of the perfume clinging to her coppery locks…the appropriate name for it eluded him. He could only describe it as smelling fresh, almost as though he were breathing in the wind off the sea at dawn. Her hazel eyes were wide as he dipped his head closer and murmured, "I am glad your heart is soft enough to find it a challenge to harm someone. It is refreshing."

He wasn't quite sure why, but, in that moment, Edmund found himself closing the slight distance between them to barely brush his lips against Leto's. She gasped in surprise. Edmund stepped back, flushing in embarrassment. "Lady Leto, please forgive my forwardness. I should not have kissed…and I should have better maintained my distance so as to afford you the respect you deserve." He offered a deep bow as he hid a cringe at the thought she might believe him no different from the men who used and were used by her mother. "I beg your pardon, Lady Leto. I should not have touched you. I…I can offer no excuse."

One pale hand covering her pink mouth, Leto was watching him in silent shock. Then a brighter blush than before covered her cheeks, staining them a deep pink as she slowly lowered her hand. "I…I don't know what to say." Her movements were slow and unconscious as her hand rose once more to lightly touch her lips. "I've never… Well, I've never been k-kissed before now. M-might I take my leave, Your Majesty?" He barely dipped his head in acquiescence when she hurried to the door then she paused and turned back, granting just the slightest hint of a smile. "I accept your apology, King Edmund, I understand offense was not your intent."

Relieved that he had not traumatized the girl, Edmund smiled back at her. Taking out his dagger after she left, he flipped it once before sliding it back into its sheath. What had he been thinking? Kissing a girl like that, especially given her situation. Not to mention, Lucy would probably convince Susan to roll out more wedding plans, only this time with him at the center of their target.

"You prefer the untried."

Edmund had to will himself not to tense at the knowing edge in that dulcet taunt. Pratima's jade green eyes were icy, warring with the smile curving her red lips, as she emerged from behind the nearest tapestry (which he had checked when he first began using this room and found no hint of a passage). There was a wildness to the evil clinging to her as she glided toward him, something less controlled than that embodied by Jadis but still very powerful. His hand itched to draw his sword and run her through but then he spotted two hulking guards just in the shadow of the threshold, one of whom was aiming a crossbow down one of the halls. Edmund froze, mind racing as he strained for any sound that he was aiming at Lucy or Tarrin or perhaps even Leto. He stayed the compulsion to run Pratima through, unwilling to chance it, unwilling to risk anyone in his keeping.

There was a hint of triumph in her eyes now as she laid a single finger against his jaw, her nail rasping across his skin as she traced the angle of his jaw. Leaning close, she whispered, "I can arrange for you to have her and then me if that is what you prefer, little king."

Anger and disgust fighting for expression, Edmund stepped back, glaring. "You would dare do such a thing," he bit off his words at a cold clip. "You would dare to offer your own daughter into such ignominy as though she were naught but unfeeling and worthless chattel? You would dare imply that We would disgrace Ourself, Our subject who deserves Our protection, and Aslan by agreeing to such a bargain?" He felt no small pleasure at the fact that Pratima flinched as though she had been struck when he spoke Aslan's Name. "Despite Our warnings, you would yet seek to tempt Us? Then, you are twice the fool We believed you."

There was naught but hatred in her eyes now, Pratima curled her lip as she raised her arm and pointed at him. She looked too much like Jadis when She was about to use Her wand. Instinctively gripping Shafhelm's hilt, Edmund braced himself for whatever spell Pratima was going to cast.

"Pratima!"

The witch stopped, but her burning gaze was still fastened on Edmund. "What is it?"

Lord Horatio's voice gained strength, a surprise considering Edmund could just see him opening and closing his hand nervously even as he moved closer. "My Lady, you must come tend to the matter we spoke of earlier. At once, Wife."

For a moment, Pratima seemed on the verge of ignoring her husband. But then, she slowly lowered her arm then uncurled her lip. "Very well. I'm certain you understand we shall have to finish this conversation at a later time, Your Majesty."

"I look forward to it." Edmund watched her sweep out of the room then turned his full attention on Lord Horatio. But, Leto's father avoided meeting his gaze as he quickly followed his wife. Finally, releasing his somewhat painful grip on his sword, Edmund mused that Horatio's unexpected force with his wife no doubt proved that he was more than aware of her illicit activities for all that he pretended otherwise. Not strong enough to gainsay her if he had not surprised her as he just now did, but certainly not the naïve husband he would have his servants, guests, and even daughter believe.

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It was only after he had confirmed Lucy was still sleeping soundly and that Tarrin was already eating breakfast that Edmund considered his next move. He poked at the poached eggs with the corner of his toast. Pratima was evil, of that he had no doubt, and, more disturbing, she was no longer attempting to truly hide her witchcraft. This situation was growing more dangerous every time someone did not bow to Pratima's will.

Edmund drummed his fingers against the table, ignoring the questioning look Tarrin gave him, as he weighed the few options left open to him. He needed to protect Lucy, Tarrin, and Leto from Pratima's machinations. Pratima had to be stopped. And, he needed to see if the cutter was seaworthy.

Abruptly pushing away from the table and his nearly-untouched plate, Edmund knew the time had come. He had to confront Pratima, no matter the cost, but first he needed to find Leto. He wasn't sure what he felt for the girl (it was far too soon to imagine it to be 'love' and she would need time to heal from her mother's abuse), but it was only just to ask her to come back with them to Cair Paravel. Provided that her mother did not carry out some sort of twisted revenge on her first. The thought was disturbing enough to add speed to Edmund's pace. If he had caused Pratima to target Leto, due to his rebuff of her advances… He needed to find Leto.

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A/N: Please Read and Review! Edmund's in denial, but he's so cute when he has a crush, isn't he? :D Now, do y'all think Leto will survive to see Narnia? Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.