AN: Just so you all know, this might be my last update for a little while. I'm going away on a family trip and I probably won't have internet/much time to write on it. But don't worry, I plan to keep working on this fanfic when I get back home, you'll just have to wait a little longer for another update after this is all. Also, if there are any typos/mistakes in this chapter I missed before posting, I apologize; I'm actually not feeling well, I was ill with a migraine this morning so I'm a bit off/tired. Anywho, if you spot any such mistakes, just let me know and I'll try to go back and fix 'em when I can! No biggie. Oh, and to the anon. reviewer who asked if I liked their poems: yes, I did, I thought they were rather adorable. LOL.

"Lucy, I'm telling you, he's gone of his own free will," Peter said, rubbing his temples in an exasperated fashion.

Lucy was standing in front of an oak-wood desk Peter had his medical books spread out on, insisting vehemently that Edmund was in trouble and needed her help. "Something is wrong, Peter!"

"He left you!" he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up with anger towards their departed guest; he now knew, of course, how Edmund Maugrim had betrayed Lucy before leaving. "Before I knew what happened, what he'd done to you, I tried to stop him, but he left. We have to accept that he's gone and was never what we thought him to be. I know this hurts you, Lu, (it hurts all of us), and I would do anything to shield you from the pain if I could, but there's nothing..." He shook his head. "There's nothing I can change."

"He didn't leave," said Lucy; "the lady in white fur took him!"

"What lady?" asked Peter, crinkling his forehead, utterly baffled.

"She was here last night," Lucy said, exhaling sharply. She'd already tried telling her brother about the strange woman on the sledge, but he had been too preoccupied by the fact that Edmund had cheated on her and then run away like a good-for-nothing.

Truly, Lucy was beginning to wish she had not told Peter-and, by default, Susan-about walking in on Edmund and Ammi and had just skipped to the part about him being kidnapped straight-off, but she was a very truthful girl by nature and her brother had pressed her anxiously in regards to what she and Edmund had 'quarreled' over till she, too upset to put up much resistance, caved and told him the whole story.

Almost instantaneously, she had regretted it; for Susan went and commented, in a rather blank voice, "Poor Lucy. And Mr. Maugrim seemed so good-hearted, too! I suppose he was only after a position of power all along after all," thinking the only logical explanation was that he had pretended to want nothing to do with court-life while really only marrying Lucy to be king of Narnia, not out of any love for her personally. "Well, at least he was found out before the wedding and we were saved that trouble."

Nether of them wanted to listen to her story. They both insisted that Edmund left on his own, that they saw him go with their own eyes. It didn't matter how Lucy implored them to believe her (Edmund was in danger of some kind, she just knew it!), they only shook their heads dejectedly.

So now, when Peter said, "We didn't have any new visitors last night, only the three that left," Lucy was at her wit's end.

"No, she didn't come inside," huffed Lucy, willing herself not to scream. "I saw her from the window."

"Your window? Your bedroom window?"

"Yes!" she exclaimed impatiently.

"Lucy, Edmund left by the front doors," Peter told her. "You wouldn't have been able to see him leaving from that window."

"Peter, I know what I saw."

"I don't think you do. You were emotional and you could have simply been imagining it."

"I'm not crazy!" cried Lucy, lifting her arms and dropping the leather book and dagger she was holding down onto the desk. "I think...I don't know...but I think, somehow...somehow he got wind of it before it happened and he left these with me for a reason. He was going to leave anyway, after what happened; he told me so himself...but then, I saw him outside...and the sledge. She forced him-I didn't see how."

"Lucy," sighed Susan, almost rolling her eyes but being sensitive enough to stop herself before she did so, "even if there was a woman in white fur-which is doubtful, likely you only saw the snow taking queer shapes in the wind-outside who Edmund approached and had a word with, how do you know he didn't go with her willingly?"

"I just do!" she said, not knowing how else to make them understand, her face flushing with inward conviction and outward frustration.

Peter examined the dagger with mild interest, unsheathed it, nodded, then slid it back into the sheath, putting it down, and reached for the book; that seemed more interesting. He had seen the dagger before, on Edmund, so it was nothing very new to him, but the book held mystery enough.

"There's got to be a way to help him," Lucy went on. "I'm thinking of looking for Aslan; he'll know who that lady was, he knows everything."

"Lucy," scoffed Susan peevishly, thinking her sister was being a touch irreverent, "Aslan is not some mystical oracle that can answer random questions at your bidding!"

Lucy glared at Susan. "I know that, Su! And it's not a random question; it's to save someone-someone from our family!"

"He's not family," Susan argued. "He was only a ghastly con-artist who was found out too soon."

"There is more to it than that," she insisted, tears springing up in her eyes. "There must be...there has to be..."

"These names," said Peter gravely, flipping through the first few pages in the book with ever-widening, disbelieving eyes. "Why, they're star family names! They're all mortal half-stars, just like us. Some of them are even distant relations!"

"See?" exclaimed Susan, gesturing emphatically at the book with a flick of her wrist. "That horrible young man was plotting this for a while. Most of those girls must have been in line for the throne, but Lucy was higher above the salt than them. That's why they're crossed out. They weren't noble enough to suit him." She didn't have to look at the book to know about the lines running through the names; Peter was looking at the book, and she sensed its contents through his eyes.

"Give me the book!" Lucy exclaimed, snarling uncharacteristically and snatching it out of Peter's hands. Then she grabbed the dagger from the desk. These were all she had to go on: a dagger to remember her unfaithful betrothed by, and a single book of names to provide a clue as to why the devil he had been taken; she would not let her siblings treat these things so coldly, so unfeelingly. "I will find Aslan and ask him about it! I will, I don't care! You can't stop me-neither of you can. So there!"

"Lucy, for goodness sake!" Susan reprimanded. "There's no need to keep on shouting."

"Oooh!" Lucy let out that indignant little sound, glowered at them, stamped her foot on the shaggy sea-foam-green carpet, turned on her heels, and stormed out of the study in a furious huff.

"Peter, she's being down-right naughty," Susan said the second their little sister had fled. "I understand she's emotional right now, but honestly! Why do you think she would make up such a ridiculous lie? Unless...you don't suppose...it mightn't even be lying? That there might be something wrong with her? Perhaps brought on by the shock of all this?"

"She's certainly not urged on by any medical definition of madness," Peter replied. "Anyone can tell that just by looking at her and speaking to her. And she's never lied to us before."

"No, but this couldn't be true. All that about a lady-a witch, did she say?-on a sledge. We both saw Edmund leave on foot, by the front...didn't we?"

"Of course we did, Su." Peter shook his head. "I just...I don't know... Lucy was perfectly all right before Edmund came into the picture."

"Oh, how I wish we'd never let him stay here to begin with!" Susan cried with surprising vim.

"We can't let her go off on her own," Peter said softly. "Aslan could be anywhere. If he came here, and she wanted to ask him...if he was even rumoured to be somewhere near these parts, or at least in Narnia...I'd take her, to have this settled once and for all. I wouldn't hold her back, I would go with her. But we've no way of knowing where Aslan is. And the weather's been ghastly. Susan, she could get lost or hurt, or worse..."

"Even from a strictly political standpoint," Susan agreed, "that would be very bad. She is the future queen, after all."

"I'm so frightened, Su," he confessed brokenly, his eyes filling with tears.

"I know," Susan said. "I've known since the second she came in here and said...said all those odd things...how afraid you were."

"If only we could find him for her, so that she could rest easy."

"Find him?" said Susan, her voice gone rather shrill. "If he's lost, I'd say good riddance to bad rubbish."

"I still can't believe he...well, that he did what he did...but Lucy won't rest till she knows he's safe," Peter pointed out grimly. He didn't say that he himself, in spite of his anger, didn't truly believe Edmund was strictly 'bad rubbish'; he didn't need to, Susan understood anyway.

"If we're fortunate, and she becomes even half as afraid as you are," she said, tossing a lock of blackish hair over one shoulder while she spoke, "she'll beg off before she even sets out."

"We both know Lucy isn't afraid of anything. Not when it comes to the people she loves. She'll never give up." Peter wiped uselessly at his eyes with the back of his wrist. "And that book... Before I was only scared she would get hurt, and now that she has, I'm more scared than ever...and I'm not even sure of what exactly."

"There must be some way of keeping her here," Susan pondered aloud.

"Unless she forgets Edmund Maugrim entirely, there won't be," Peter knew.

"Can we make her forget?"

Peter blinked; he hadn't meant anything by his words, but Susan's line of thinking gave him an idea. Her words reminded him of something he'd seen in a book in the library.

It had been a medical book about non-addictive mind-altering herbs. He had been looking through it in hopes of finding something that would help him with his depression and mood swings, but unfortunately many of the plants mentioned in that book, though they didn't cause addiction or dependance, weren't necessarily safe for consumption (some kind of natural chemical found in them that was usually rejected by the human body, but generally digested well enough in that of centaurs'); however, there had been one herb he now remembered that was digestible by the human stomach and might just help with their current problem. It was for relaxation, basically erasing from the mind whatever it was that was currently making it the most anxious. This would have done nothing for Peter's chronic depression, because if one issue were removed from his mind, another could easily take its place-his condition could be triggered by almost anything. But, in Lucy's case, it might make her stop obsessing about Edmund being 'kidnapped'; at least until Peter could think of a better way to keep her safely at home.

So, nothing else for it, he shared this idea with his twin in a low voice.

They had exchanges back and forth about the matter for over two hours.

Was it safe? There wouldn't be any nasty side-effects, would there? Peter would have to make absolutely sure first, find that book again and read all there was on that herb, before they decided to go through with this. And, if it was all right to give her, could they really slip it to her without her knowing?

"I'll go down to the library," Peter told Susan, standing up. "You go check on Lucy, make sure she hasn't run off or done anything hasty."

"We are doing the right thing," asked Susan, pausing in the doorway of the study; "aren't we?"

Peter closed his eyes and sighed deeply. "Oh, I hope so, Su. You have no idea how much."

He hated the idea of stealing something from Lucy-especially something as personal as her memories, memories he was positive she would want to keep if given a choice, even after all that had happened; but how could he let her, his own baby sister, put herself in harm's way because she mistakenly thought her ex-betrothed (a man who had betrayed her, no less!) needed her? And it wasn't as if it was for ever...it was only for a while...so it wasn't so bad, really. At least, that's what he told himself to justify his plans.

In the library, he went through that book as well as every other book that contained information on the herb. The only possible side-effects were occasional drowsiness and mild confusion from time to time, and none of it was permanent. It had some natural element in it that triggered the depressed part of the brain and relaxed it by clearing it out for a while. And, in reasonable doses, it could be slipped tastelessly into a cup of tea or a bowl of porridge.

Susan came in and crept up to his chair from the opposite end of the library. "Well?"

If anyone else had come up to Peter from behind like that, he would have jumped out of his skin, but he had known Susan was headed for his chair when she was still two corridors and an antechamber away, so her arrival didn't even make him flinch or bat a single eyelash.

"It's definitely safe," Peter announced hollowly, feeling rotten. "How is she?"

"She was packing when I walked into her room, Peter." Susan grimaced.

"Packing?"

"I don't think she's leaving just yet, but she's obviously getting ready to do so very soon."

"Great," said Peter sarcastically.

"She's upset." Susan's grimace deepened as she thought about the pale-faced fifteen year old she had seen digging her thickest, heaviest winter boots out of the back of her wardrobe, muttering and weeping to herself.

Peter lifted the book and slipped it into Susan's hands to show her the picture of the herb. "We can handle it."

The next morning when Lucy came down at breakfast-time, the green velvet cloak Edmund had given her over one arm, a small deerskin pack stuffed with a few non-perishable eatables she took from the pantry as well as Edmund's leather book and dagger and extra clothes for herself slung over the opposite shoulder, and her heaviest boots strapped to her feet, Peter made her sit down.

When she told him she was going regardless of what he had to say and would not be dissuaded, he seemed oddly unaffected and simply stated that she was not going anywhere without taking a proper meal and a cup of tea first.

Susan nodded in agreement and pushed a brown porcelain cup of tea on a matching copper-rimmed china saucer over to her little sister while Peter handed her the bread roll basket.

Gael naturally knew of nothing that was going on, and only thought her sister was planning on going for a walk in the snow, perhaps to visit friends in the village. She was even considering asking to come along, though she wondered if it wasn't too windy to walk or even to go on horseback, and whether or not it wouldn't be wiser to ask their father to let them have a carriage if they promised to be back at a reasonable hour.

The remaining guests-Polly the Griffin Rider, Lord Perry and Lady Alexander, and Raynbi-said nothing to her, almost a little frightened by the look of intense determination in her face.

Peter, while he hadn't explained why, insisted-especially to Raynbi (who he feared was most in danger of saying something)-that they say nothing-not a single word-to Lucy about Edmund Maugrim, on threat of being turned out of the mansion when the weather cleared up and being confined to their quarters till then so they couldn't cause any further trouble. Susan, for her part in all this, had reminded Lord Perry to keep Paddy out of Lucy's sight whenever possible (this was more easily said than done; Paddy adored Lucy and made a great deal of noise over not being taken to see her).

"Well," said Lucy, calming down a bit now that they didn't appear to be trying to stop her or convince her she'd only been seeing things, "I suppose I could sit down...for a little while..." She put the cloak over the back of her chair and the pack down by her feet under the table.

Peter tried very hard not to appear guilty, but it wasn't easy. Physically, he was saving his sister, but how could he be sure she would be emotionally all right when it all came back and she realized what he had done?

And what of that poor baby Alexander was now mothering? Were they really going to have to keep enduring the kid's howls because they were afraid letting her look at him would trigger Lucy's memory too soon? What of Raynbi? She really did look a great deal like Edmund, even with her hair having grown to just below her earlobes.

Lucy, unwitting, lifted the tea-cup to her lips. The smell from it was wonderful (the herb was odorless, as well as tasteless, in the dose Peter had slipped into it) and the warm steam felt so good on her face.

Looking back, both Peter and Susan wished they had stopped her and come clean. If they had, maybe things would have been easier for everyone in the long run. But they didn't, and eventually the twins learned not to dwell on past mistakes; no one, they soon came to know, is ever told what would have happened.

As soon as she had had a few sips, Lucy began to feel very safe and comfortable. She wondered why she had put on her heaviest boots-they were beginning to make her feet, which otherwise felt lovely right down to the tips of her toes, ache. Had she been planning to go outside?

Her eyelids drooped and she dropped the tea-cup on the floor by accident, causing the handle to break off and the saucer to crack down the middle.

Her eyes shot open when she leaned back against the chair and felt the velvet on her neck. She twisted round in the chair and pulled the velvet cloak into her lap. "This is mine?" she asked, uncertainly.

"Yes," said Susan, offhandedly, looking away.

"Where did I get it?" Lucy asked with a crinkled forehead. "I don't remember buying a new cloak this year. I've still got the ones from last year."

"It was a gift," said Peter, looking down shamefully at his plate, feeling what little appetite he had that day dwindle down to nothing. "A friend got it for you."

"Why can't I remember?" Lucy wanted to know. "I remember all my friends." It was true, she did; she had never forgotten a gift given by a mate or chum in her life, not since she was three and a little dryad girl gave her a stuffed knitted blue, button-eyed teddy bear made of dyed wool.

"You've been under a great deal of stress, Lu," said Peter; it wasn't a lie, even if it wasn't the whole truth.

"Eat something," Susan order-suggested.

Lucy nodded and finished her breakfast. She didn't notice Peter accidentally on purpose dropping his spoon, diving under the table, and snatching her pack from next to her feet, discreetly kicking it behind the credenza on the far side of the room.

The cloak was one thing. The dagger and the book, he didn't want her to see-not now.

The next few days were very confusing ones for Lucy. For almost a week, Peter slipped the herb both into her morning and night-time cups of tea.

At night, she slept soundly, her dreams as peaceful as if she were a queen on her wedding day, though she was neither a queen nor a bride-yet. In the mornings, when she first woke, she found herself struggling desperately to recall something. She wrote the name E. Maugrim down on a sheet of paper, folded it into the smallest square she could make, and stuffed it inside of a toy castle that had been hers when she was little.

By the time a few days had gone by, she was a little surprised to find-despite the fact that she had no recollection of making those (the herb at breakfast had blocked her from remembering her odd morning routine)-there were other squares already in the castle.

But she never let herself consider why that should be so, and skipped downstairs to see her family and friends as light-hearted as ever.

Sometimes she thought she heard crying, but everybody told her not to worry about it (this was only Paddy having one of his tantrums, which had become very frequent since Edmund left and he first began to be kept away from Lucy). She also thought Raynbi disliked her because she wouldn't look her in the eyes, only Susan lied and said it was a Calormene tradition, something to do with fasting for Tash, and that she shouldn't bother herself about that.

During the day, she played cards and chess with Clara, spent time with her father and Gael, read in the library with Peter, occasionally helping him take inventory on his medical herbs, and did a great deal of pacing the hallways, feeling oddly lost, like she was missing something very valuable she had to find before she could have any true peace.

Then, late one gray morning, Gael came into the entertainment room carrying a basketful of paper flowers she was playing with. She gave Lucy a rose, since that was her favorite flower; Susan got a daffodil, because bright yellow looked good with her dark hair and she very often pinned flowers to her hair and clothing; Clara received a tulip, which was her favorite; Alexander and Perry were given scarlet poppies; Coriakin had a blue forget-me-not; and Peter was handed a lovely swooped-over snowdrop because it was the only flower left and he didn't really have a preference, only taking it to please little Gael.

That was when Peter made his fatal mistake. He put the paper snowdrop stem-first through the button-hole of the jerkin he wore.

Lucy looked at the button-hole and the white flower, her eyes widening to the size of the tea-saucer she'd cracked about six days or so ago. A face-a very nice face, with dark brown eyes, a light complexion, and a playful smile-popped into the front of her mind. Another button-hole also came to her mind; this one had a real snowdrop in it.

She let out a gasp and shook her head. "No!"

"What's amiss, Lu?" Peter asked, seeing that she was stricken.

"I'm not sure," she said, standing up and running out of the room. "Beg pardon, I'll be right back." And so marked the very first time she had ever told a bold-faced lie in her life.

Lucy ran as fast as she could to her room, flung open the doors to the toy castle, and pulled out five or six pieces of paper, unfolding them with trembling fingers.

They all said the same thing: E. Maugrim.

One of them, in smaller letters, the one she had written yesterday, as a matter of fact, had a little note scrawled under that: He needs me.

"Edmund!" she exclaimed, anguished.

Six pieces of paper...six days...today would make seven...almost a week... They had kept her more or less a senseless prisoner in her own home for a week! They'd kept her from remembering Edmund. Yes, it hurt when what he'd done to her came back, it hurt a lot, but at least the good things came back, too.

For a few moments, Lucy wondered how they had done it, how they could have made her forget someone she had almost married. Then she remembered taking inventory on Peter's herbs.

"Oh, Peter, how could you!" she sobbed, as it all became quite clear.

The horrid meanness of what her beloved elder brother had done-almost as much a betrayal as anything else that had happened recently-struck her like a slap across the face.

She felt as if she had to get away-and fast! If they stopped her, even for just another short moment, how would she prevent them from tricking her into taking more herbs that would steal Edmund's problems away from her all over again?

She had no way of knowing it had been in the tea. As far as Lucy could guess, it could have been anything at all. It could have been her food, or her water, or maybe those vitamins Peter made her take every evening (how easy it would have been for him to substitute a different substance for one of those without her knowing!); she trusted her brother completely, which was what made this all the more ghastly and diabolical.

She threw the green cloak over herself, tossed on the heavy boots which had made their way back into the wardrobe since the day she'd first tried to leave, and then remembered the dagger and book.

Where were they?

"My pack!" gasped Lucy, noting its loss for the first time.

If Peter had been the one to retrieve and hide the pack from behind the credenza after that breakfast six days ago, Lucy would likely have never found it. Fortunately, the task had been left to Susan, who was not a very imaginative hider, even with so many options, their mansion being as enormous as it was, and Lucy found it in under twenty-five minutes.

It was only hidden in an old wooden sea-chest in a carpeted antechamber. There wasn't even anything covering it except for the lid of the chest. Everything in it was still good and ready to go.

Tears streaming down her face, Lucy kissed the hilt of the dagger as she lifted it out, wrapping her fingers round the sheath. "Please help me...help me find him and bring him home."

Even if it meant seeing him with Ammi every day from then on out, she could no longer tolerate the thought of him being far away, all the more so against his will. She had to bring him back-bring them all back, Tumnus and Eustace, too-if she could. They would be safe here, safe from anything, including whatever mystery it was that plagued Edmund now.

Well, they'd be safe provided that Peter didn't go completely mental and bloody well try to poison them (she was still the angriest with him she'd ever been; she couldn't imagine she would have felt any worse had she discovered Peter had been trying to kill her). She would forgive him and Susan, of course, she knew she would, they were her brother and sister and she loved them, just not right then.

She would seek Aslan as planned; and if she couldn't find the Lion, she would still keep going in search of Edmund until she learned where he was and what the lady on the sledge wanted with him.

Lucy made her way to the stables and saddled Snowflake (the Coalblacks lost interest in her when they saw she hadn't any apples, carrots, or sugar on her person, and Phillip was talking to himself in his sleep, dozing blissfully). "Come, Snowflake, we're going out searching." She slung her pack onto the back of her horse and climbed on, tossing her green velvet hood down over her forehead to keep her head warm while she rode.

Getting off the mansion property was tricky. She was so afraid someone would see her from a window and come after her, trying to stop her. But when no one did and she saw the village coming into view, she began to feel better.

True, she was not out of the woods yet, so to speak, any of the villagers might try to direct her back home, but somehow she felt more confident. She almost felt like she was her future queen-self, going off to battle for what was right. Nothing would hold her back from justice then, and nothing would stop her from finding Edmund now. It was all one and the same.

"Whatever it is," said Lucy, nudging the bulge that was Edmund's leather book in her pack with her knee, "whatever this all means, I'll figure it out. I promise, Ed." She gently but firmly dug her heels into Snowflake's sides. "Gee, Snowflake! Gee!" Making a clicking noise with her mouth, she urged her horse ever forward.

AN: Please review.