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: When memory is veiled, can the love forged between two hearts survive?

A/N: If you have not read the first seven stories in the A Light in the Darkness main story arc (Awakened, Shadowed, Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, and Reflected), 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-Five: Memory

She was painting… It was a little silly to run off and finish the mural before she even finished the letter, but she wanted to and he would be happy when she told him. Besides, it didn't take long for her to apply the final touches (even if she had barely waited long enough for it to dry properly to keep the paints from being muddy). She might even have time to slip into the nursery for a bit. Her hand was steady as she added a little more detail to the Centauress. She stepped back, admiring the work. Ah, there was one more spot that could use a bit more definition. She cleaned off the brush then chose a different brush, this one with a narrow fan. Dipping it in a creamy white, she added a stronger line between the Centauress' stocking and the rest of her leg. There was a faint scuff of a boot against marble. She turned her head.

A man she did not recognize was watching her. Hadassah House had no visitors aside from Ptah and herself. Turning so her back wasn't as exposed, she watched this scruffy-looking islander closely even as she gave him a smile full of false sweetness. "Are you lost this night, sir?

He didn't hesitate. She dropped her brush and palette just as something stung her neck. Reaching one hand up, she jerked out a black feathered dart. She unsheathed one knife just as the man rushed her. He blocked her initial attack and clamped down on her left arm, preventing her from reaching her other knife. He was good. She was better.

Just as she twisted to drive her knife into his shoulder, the room tilted in a nauseating manner. Her equilibrium was shaken and she misjudged the angle and speed of her strike. She kicked out at his legs but the man bore her to the floor, pinning her knife between their bodies. No, she refused to allow this to happen. Her vision swam again but she muscled through it. She would fight and she would immobilize this intruder (she needed to find out who had sent him and who had told him she would be at Hadassah House).

She kneed him in the gut and his fetid breath was expelled in a rush. His eyes narrowed at her and then his thick fingers twisted in her hair. She raked her nails down his cheek and attempted to bring her feet up in order to shove him off. His gaze only grew colder and more determined. His grip on her hair tightened and then he slammed her head against the floor. The blow stunned her and then black spots danced before her eyes. He slammed her head against the floor once more and then it all went black…

She was lying on her side. A spot on her neck just below her jaw throbbed, probably from that dart. Her head was pounding where the man had slammed her head against the floor and splintered wood was digging into her skin. She tried to push herself up but was brought up short with the clink of metal chains. No. The floor rocked and she realized she was on a ship. Wonderful. With her track record with Murphy and his blasted Law, she was probably on her way to the slave market in Tashbaan. She hoped not…she had too much of a reputation among the Calormene diplomats and traders for that to be a good thing.

The door opened and the man from before stomped in. She smirked when she realized he was still limping slightly. "Demon witch!"

"Insults from an unknown man mean little to me."

He swore most colorfully then kicked her in the head. When she woke again, the floor no longer rocked. Splintered wood had been replaced with cold, uneven rock. She was still in chains. Darkness surrounded her but she could just detect the outline of rock walls. A cave.

Something didn't feel right. She wasn't alone. She could hear their breathing and the soft shuffle of booted feet surrounding her. They were waiting…for what? A signal, she decided. Yes, they were waiting for a signal.

The shuffling continued for several long minutes until with a burst of running steps, the attack began. She listened and managed to duck under the kick aimed for her head. She rolled but was brought up short by her chains. The first kick landed against her hip. She kicked out and tripped the second attacker as his curses attested. Then they began to attack in greater numbers. For every blow she managed to block or avoid, two more found her. She fought until the sharp pain arcing through her ribs warned of a possibly cracked rib. Curling in on herself, she tried to keep from gasping or panicking as the blows continued to fall. She could outlast them…she hoped.

And then the attack ceased. Boots tramped away from her. She wanted to get back to her feet, but her ribs protested at any movement. She flinched when torchlight flared bright in the darkness. A low laugh filled the cave, coming out of the darkness just beyond where the flames cast their flickering light. "Ah, Ishara Reborn. I have waited for this moment."

She gasped, trying to breathe past the pain of her definitely cracked rib. How long had he stood there watching as his men beat her? She didn't know and she didn't care. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I can." He stepped into the ring of torchlight and circled her then stopped behind her and grabbed her throat, squeezing. "Because I want to savor every scream that comes from your pretty mouth before I kill you and leave your dead body for your lover to find."

She could only stare at him as he circled back around in front of her. His cruel slash of a mouth tilted in a sardonic smirk. "What is this? You do not remember me, Ishara Reborn?"

"I had hoped you were dead. But, rest assured, I do remember you, Mordad."

Mordad's cruel pleasure at her response was all too obvious as he suddenly stroked her cheek then captured her chin in his hand. He leaned in close enough that she half-feared he was about to attempt to kiss her and half-hoped he would try such a moronic move so she could headbutt him. Then he smirked again and pressed his face against her hair, inhaling loudly. Revulsion skittered down her spine as he breathed in her ear. "I shall enjoy breaking you, Ishara Reborn."

Bolting upright, Alambiel gasped then jumped as thunder clapped right outside her windows. Scrambling off the bed, she pulled the drapes back to see thick sheets of rain pouring down. She had fallen asleep while reading again, but this time she had no desire to return to the tale of King Frank the First. Her fingers ached to turn to a different craft.

She yanked open the bottom drawer of the wardrobe and pulled out her drawing supplies. An evil face flashed before her eyes. No, she would not let her fears control her this time. She needed to do this.

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"General!"

Oreius looked up, taking care to keep himself from showing any emotion as he met Alambiel's gaze. "My Lady?" He was still struggling with letting her go and calling her his lady was the last tie to the future he knew was not to be, but he could not bring himself to sever it just yet.

Alambiel held out a drawing. "Him. He's the one who arranged for me to be abducted."

It was only through sheer effort that he did not crumple the drawing when he saw Mordad's face. That he had failed to ensure the man would no longer be a threat was unforgivable. If he had, then this situation would not be- Oreius flicked his tail then bowed slightly. "Thank you for your aid, My Lady. I will see this fiend is found and removed as a threat."

Alambiel was studying his face. "You are angry? I thought it would be of help to draw him."

He hadn't thought she could see through him so easily anymore. Clearing his throat, Oreius shook his head. "No, My Lady, it is of great help. Knowing who was responsible will allow us to find him at a swifter pace." A shadow appeared in her eyes and he barely stopped himself before he cupped her cheek. "Is there anything else I can help you with, My Lady?"

Alambiel shook her head. "No." She handed him a folded sheet of parchment. "This is what I remember of the abduction." Thunder clapped and she started just as he reached out to take the parchment. Their hands brushed and Alambiel's eyes widened slightly. Did she remember something, anything about their relationship? She darted a glance at him but he could not read the emotions in their blue depths. "I hope it helps, General."

She retreated before he could say anything else. Oreius shook his head. He had frightened her again. The storm outside the Cair raged on when he joined the Kings for a meeting. He watched as his golden colt grew stern and his dark colt's eyes flashed when they read the accounting of Alambiel's abduction. His own blood still boiled with the hottest rage whenever he allowed his mind to dwell on Mordad's reported words and actions. But beneath that was the cold horror at the fact those despicable actions were only the beginning.

King Edmund looked up from studying the drawing. "You can confirm this is Mordad, Oreius?"

Cruel slash of a mouth, narrow face, hooded eyes, and a scar running from his right temple to divide his right eyebrow. He had only seen the man up close a few times in Veri, but they had been enough. He gave a curt nod. "It is Mordad, Your Majesty. When you come across one who embodies cruelty to such a degree, you do not forget them."

Both colts grew silent and he knew they were thinking of various enemies they had clashed with since coming to Narnia. Most especially, he suspected, they thought of the White Witch. It would be long before the memory of Her evil and cruelty was forgotten in Narnia.

The High King was the first to break the heavy silence. "What about your spies, Ed? What more information can they give us?"

King Edmund pointed to the map. "Haroun has retreated to Calormen. According to the Birds, he hasn't set foot outside the Tisroc's realm since fleeing Veri even though he's still bringing new girls to be part of the Tisroc's or one of his sons' harems. We can't stop him unless he comes to one of the northern lands or we catch him on one of the islands. Orfeo is a different story. He has been languishing in Lune's dungeons for the last six months after Archenlandish soldiers discovered him kidnapping young children for a house he claimed was for the most innocent of entertainment. Apparently, Lune still feels he is too angry to be fair enough for a trial to go through and is waiting until he feels the time is right."

Peter nodded. "That conclusively rules them out. I don't suppose they found any hideaways for Mordad yet?"

"No, but Mordad has not been seen in his old haunts for the better part of the year."

Oreius shifted his hooves. "The spies have been focusing on the land nearest our borders. I believe it is time to expand the search. Mordad must have men hidden somewhere in Ettinsmoor, not too near the Giant strongholds since the Northern Giants would rather eat them than be bought. If Mordad still has the other four assassins in his employ, they may know of his hideout."

His dark colt scowled at the map. "Achan was not a count on the Lone Islands even though he and his mother did originally hail from there. There were rumors that the Lady Jezreel and her elder sister caught the Tisroc's eye. The elder sister reportedly bore a son six years before Jezreel bore Achan. Lady Jezreel's father cast out his elder daughter for having a child out of wedlock and breaking her betrothal agreement to a Galmian baron."

The High King frowned. "What was the son's name?"

"Angra. No one knows what happened to him after his mother died of the plague just after Jezreel had her son. Though rumor claims it was a poison sent by her sister and not the plague that killed Angra's mother." King Edmund grimaced. "Jezreel was married but her husband had been gone a month when the Tisroc came to the Lone Islands again. There was strong speculation that the boy was his son but Jezreel took a potion to cause her to give birth a month before her time in order to ensure that her husband believed the boy was his. And then her husband perished by defenestration with a wine flagon in hand after declaring the boy's legitimacy as his heir to a minor barony. She probably killed her own nephew as well. However, when Achan was thirteen, he murdered a boy two years his junior and their lands and titles were stripped. Jezreel took her son and fled before the watch could imprison him."

"Wonderful," Peter muttered.

Oreius glared at the map. "We must continue to search for the other four men. Were they truly brothers and cousins to Achan?"

His dark colt merely shrugged. "One of the Robins heard a wild tale that Jezreel's elder sister bore a number of sons, no less than four, after she chose to sell her body upon being cast out of her father's house. There's no way to know. They're still looking for more recent news of the men's movements before coming here with Jezreel."

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Tanith measured out the tincture into a row of ten and six vials. The storm raining outside did not trouble her. Indeed, she was more than grateful for it. The whisper of silk and light steps revealed that someone had come to the healers' wing. Tanith was just about to push aside the privacy curtain draped in front of her workbench when she heard the Princess Royal call out, "Alithia?"

She could hear Alithia's slow and precise steps approach. "What is wrong?"

"What can you tell me about this amnesia? Why do I only remember bits and pieces about some people and then nothing at all with someone who I am supposed to be close friends with?"

Tanith felt a twinge of pity for the Princess Royal's bewilderment. Although she had never understood her well, she could only imagine how frustrating it must be for her to no longer be free to wander the Cair with familiarity and not even know her own history with the people she met on a daily basis. Alithia's heavy sigh should have been answer enough, but still she responded. "As I have explained before, there is no way to know. If your memory loss had been caused by an injury of some type, it would have been mended by the Valiant's cordial. That you continue to have battle shock and the sheer extent of your injuries lead me to believe that your amnesia is a defense. Your mind has protected itself and does not yet feel safe enough to unlock the bindings on your memories."

"The letters aren't helping."

"What?" Alithia sounded bewildered. Tanith wondered how it was that the Princess Royal always managed to find a way to do that in conversations, both intentionally and unintentionally.

"I can't remember the General. Nothing, not even the time I apparently led a group of Ogres through a weavers' guildhouse or putting dye in helmets. Other than the fact that I seem to have a death wish to go along with my delinquent tendencies, I have learned nothing from those letters."

Tanith paused in the middle of sealing the vials with their stoppers. How could any mare fortunate enough to be courted by General Oreius, to have his full attention even once, forget him? Alithia's reply was slow in coming. "You do not remember him at all?"

"No. Should I not remember someone who is supposed to be my friend?"

"I…I cannot explain it. Perhaps Aslan will be able to answer your questions."

"Unfortunately, He is content to give me riddles and non-answers about the rain bringing clarity. It's raining and the only clear memory I have is being abducted. I would have preferred something a little less dour. Perhaps I am not meant to remember all of my old life…" Her soft sigh was barely detectable. "I do not know what to do... I apologize for bothering you, Alithia."

"It is not a bother, Alambiel. You will still come to dinner with Ardon and me tonight, yes?"

"Yes, I will be there."

Tanith stared at the stoppered vials without truly seeing them. If the Princess Royal was not able to remember General Oreius and he had been avoiding her recently, perhaps it meant something important. Perhaps Oreius was not meant to wed a madcap mare, after all. Perhaps he was meant to wed another.

"Tanith?"

She startled, stamping a hoof before she could hide the reaction. "Alithia?"

Alithia's grey eyes studied her closely. "How much did you hear?"

"All of it," Tanith confessed. She swished her tail against her flank, trying not to feel guilty about the direction her thoughts had turned. He had already chosen another over her once. "I will tell no one of the Princess Royal's words. She spoke them thinking it was a private confidence and I will not dishonor that confidence."

"Thank you."

Alithia had half-turned to leave when Tanith's impulsive question burst free. "Why did he choose her?" At the older Centauress' raised brow, she flushed and hurriedly explained, "It never…made sense to me. She is impulsive and delights in bringing her own sanity under scrutiny, but she cannot be diplomatic or allow the General to do his tasks without interruption. I always thought he would need, want, someone who could stand to the side when his military obligations require it and offer him support by doing what was needed of her in order to ensure his own tasks are carried out smoothly. And yet, he chose the one mare whose sheer audacity nearly doubled that of any of the Centauresses who brazenly approached him for a match."

"Why do you think he chose her, Tanith?"

Tanith shrugged as she drew back the privacy curtain. "To be honest, I always thought his pity for her tragic past was a key motivator. And the fact she simply bursts into a room and people's lives is highly distracting at times. As noisy a presence as she keeps, how could he help but look at her instead of others?"

The sound of cloven hooves rushing toward the open doors prevented Alithia from responding. A Faun burst into the room, water dripping from his horns to his matted fur, and in his arms was a muddy child. "I need a healer."

Alithia never brought up the subject again. Even after they had set the young Faun's broken legs and arm and reassured his frantic father that the tumble down a mud embankment had caused no permanent damage, Alithia hadn't mentioned her rather prying questions again. Tanith was slightly grateful for it; after all, it was somewhat embarrassing that the General had never pursued her even with all the encouraging signs that first Christmas after the Four came. But, still she could not help thinking about how the Princess Royal had come in like a whirlwind and made it highly difficult for the General to safely look away from her loud personality. Perhaps, just perhaps, she might attract his attention once more now that the Princess Royal could not remember him and no longer loved him. Tanith could not help remembering how he had kissed her twice beneath the mistletoe and how they had spoken for hours. They had many things in common. Would they make a better match? She didn't know, but this time, she would not be quietly yearning for him to notice her heart.

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A/N: Please Read and Review! Ahem, well, Tanith and her crush are refusing to go quietly into the night. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.