Disclaimer: Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in The Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me. Romulus and Remus appear by the kind permission of Lady Alambiel.

Chapter Twenty-One

For what seemed like days or even weeks, Edmund had only a vague recollection of candlelight and hushed voices, of Susan's cool hands and Lucy's anxious eyes and Peter's pacing boots, of hot broths and hotter tea and that bitter wine that always made him sleep, and of the tight heaviness in his chest that made it a constant struggle to breathe. Mostly there was oblivion, and for that he was grateful, but now, at last, he felt that his mind was clearing.

He hadn't opened his eyes yet, but he could tell it was daytime, and he felt a little stronger than he had before. He wanted to get up, but even though he felt sure the fever had left him, even though he had gone at least a minute now without suffering a violent fit of coughing, there was still that heaviness in his chest that made it hard for him to breathe. At least he could push some of the blankets off. It was monstrously hot.

Still not opening his eyes, he stretched out his hands. Fur. Ugh. It was bad enough when Susan insisted on down comforters and wool blankets, but fur? He shoved with both hands, and the fur yelped in return.

His eyes flew open and he found a pair of yellow eyes looking down on him with a panting doggy smile.

"Hi!"

"Romulus." Edmund blinked and then scowled, and his voice was rough in his raw throat. "Get off me, I can't breathe."

The Wolf stepped politely onto the bed, and his brother leapt off the floor to take his place on Edmund's chest. Right in the middle of his chest. A second pair of yellow eyes smiled down on him.

"Hi!"

"Remus," Edmund groaned. "Where'd you come from?"

"You pushed me onto the floor. I was helping Romulus keep you from getting cold."

"You can tell Susan you did a fine job, now get off."

After giving Edmund a slobbery lick on the side of the head, Remus moved to Edmund's unoccupied side. Unable to keep from smiling, Edmund put an arm around him and his brother and pulled them both close. At least he could always count on them.

"Thank you for looking after me," Edmund said, ruffling the fur on top of Remus' shaggy head. He gave the other Wolf a squeeze. "You too, Romulus."

"We weren't sure if you were going to wake up today," Romulus said. "One of us is supposed to go get King Peter if you wake up." He looked significantly at his brother.

"I think he meant you," Remus said piously. "You're the one he told."

"He told us," Romulus replied. "I'm pretty sure he meant you."

"No, he didn't."

"Fine." Romulus sniffed and started to get up. "Just more proof that I'm the only one he can count on."

Remus leapt to his feet. "No you're not! I'll be back before you can even stand up."

"No, you won't!"

Romulus sprang out of the bed, and both Wolves bolted out the door. Edmund wanted to laugh at that, but his ribs were still too sore. He didn't know how long he had been coughing, but it had been long enough. He didn't ever want to do it again.

He lay back against his pillows, trying to remember everything, anything. Elain. The pain welled up like blood from a fresh wound. Elain. She was married to Bran. That was all.

Were they still in Cair Paravel? Probably. Bran hadn't been in any condition to travel. But that had been . . . how long ago? Edmund rubbed one hand over his chin. It was a little stubbly but not bad. He couldn't have been here long. He didn't remember being shaved. Still, he wouldn't put it past Susan ordering it done while he was unconscious.

He licked his parched lips and looked over at the bedside table. There was a silver pitcher there and a cup, but it seemed a mile off.

He drew a deep, painful breath. "Come on, Pevensie. No use lying here like a great baby, not even able to get your own water."

He rolled to his side and pushed himself up with trembling arms. Then he braced one hand against the head of the bed and extended the other toward the cup. It was just out of reach. He pushed himself away from the head of the bed and leaned farther out. His fingers brushed the intricate etching on the silver, but he still couldn't grasp the cup.

"Just a little farther," he muttered, not sure why something as simple as sitting up to get a cup of water should leave him breathless. And dizzy.

He closed his eyes for a second. Then, growling low in frustration, he lunged toward the cup. Too late, he realized he had overbalanced himself. He grabbed at the table, bringing it down with a crash, and would have followed it to the floor if someone hadn't caught him around the middle and pulled him back onto the bed.

"What are you doing, Ed?" Peter stood over him, shaking his head. "Why didn't you call someone?"

Edmund only made a grumbling sound and huddled into the covers as Peter righted the table and picked up the silver cup and pitcher.

"The water's spilt," Romulus said, jumping up on the bed beside him.

Remus leapt onto his chest again. "Do you want us to get some more? We can get some."

"No we can't," his brother told him scornfully. "We don't have thumbs."

"We could carry a bucket by the handle," Remus said.

Edmund grumbled more and pushed him off.

"It's all right," Peter told the Wolves. "I'll get it. You two stay here. And, Eddie, don't try to get up again, understand?"

Edmund pulled the sheet over his head and didn't reply. When the sound of Peter's boots had faded away, he pulled the sheet down again. Both of the Wolves had their noses not two inches from his.

"Hi!" they said in unison.

Edmund groaned and dropped his head back to the pillows.

"Do you still feel bad, King Edmund?" Romulus asked, his brow furrowed with concern. "Do we need to get the healer?"

"No, it's all right. I'm fine."

Remus thrust his nose against Edmund's hand until he managed to get his head under it, and then he pressed his body closer.

Edmund stroked his thick fur. One thing he could count on. Somebody he knew would never betray him.

"Tell me what's been happening since I've been cooped up here," he asked before he further humiliated himself with an unmanly display of tears.

"Queen Susan is taking a nap." Romulus said. "She was here all night with you. And Queen Lucy is making you some soup that you like. For when you wake up."

"He's already awake," Remus said.

Romulus scowled at him. "Then it was a good time for her to make soup, wasn't it?"

"Anybo– anything else I should know about?" Edmund tried to keep the tremor out of his voice.

"General Oreius made sure everybody from the shipwreck got on the Splendor Hyaline to go back home," Romulus offered.

"Everybody?"

It was over. It was for the best. It was all over.

"That man that was hurt," Romulus said, "he's still here." The Wolf leaned closer to Edmund's face, yellow eyes searching. "Is he really your lady's mate?"

Edmund's throat tightened, but he managed to nod. "But she's not my lady. I was confused about that."

Remus lifted his head and leaned it to one side. "Then why has she been crying?"

"What?"

"She cries a lot of the time," Remus said. "And she won't hardly talk to anybody but her cat."

"And her mate," Romulus added. "She takes care of him, and they talk about a lot of stuff. But if anybody gets close to them, she stops."

"Husbands and wives have a lot of private things to talk about," Edmund said, making his voice very stern. "And you shouldn't try to listen in."

"I just wanted to know why she made us think she wanted to be your mate when she already had one." Romulus's brows came down. "That's not right."

His brother frowned at him. "You heard what King Edmund said. We got confused." Remus turned to Edmund, clearly still confused. "How come we got confused? We thought she liked you."

"I know," Edmund said, stroking his ears. "I did, too."

"But if she doesn't like you, how come she cries all the time?"

"What's all this about crying?" Peter asked, his voice hearty as he came into the room with a pitcher and a bowl of hot soup. "King Edmund doesn't need to worry about anybody crying right now, don't you think?"

Both Wolves nodded guiltily.

"I tell you what, why don't you both go down and see if you can help Queen Lucy. She just got through making a cake, and I bet she needs some help deciding what kind of icing to put on it."

Remus's ears perked up. "Chicken! I think it should be chicken!"

"Don't be stupid," Romulus said as they both hurried out the door. "You don't put chicken in icing. It should be liver."

Peter shut the door on their argument and poured out a cup of cold water. It was balm on Edmund's raw throat, but it did nothing to soothe the anguish in his heart.

Peter was good enough to say nothing until Edmund gave him back the cup. Even then, all he did was offer Edmund the soup.

Edmund shook his head.

"Come on, Eddie. It's your favorite. Lu made it especially for you. You don't want to hurt her feelings, do you?"

"First I want you to tell me what's been going on."

Peter shrugged. "Not much. All the survivors of the wreck have been sent home."

"All but one," Edmund said, his mouth a tight line.

"All right, all but one. Bran is recovering. He ought to be able to travel in another day or so."

"What about Elain?"

"Edmund."

"What about her?" Edmund demanded.

Peter exhaled heavily. "What do you want me to say, Ed? She's fine? She's upset. She's worried about you. I don't know how she found out about why you've been sick, but she knows what you did. She's asked about you several times."

"How long have I been here?" Edmund squinted into the winter sunlight that poured through his window. "What day is it?"

"It's Sixthday."

"Sixth?" Edmund frowned. "The wreck was on Firstday night. I've been here what? Four days?"

Peter nodded grimly.

Four days, and Elain had been upset the whole time. Asking after him. Crying. Was it only concern for a friend? Guilt because he had made himself sick because of her? Or was it something more? It couldn't be something more.

Something more was crazy.

Something more was wrong.

Author's Note: Oh, Edmund, don't go there. Don't even think it. What is he going to do now?

Thank you, dear readers, for being so patient with me. I'm sorry it's taken so long to get more written. I'm trying to get caught up on real-life stuff, but I'll try very hard to get more of this story written soon. Know I will NEVER abandon a story. Not ever. More to come!