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: A sorcerer challenged by Aslan. Love and friendship alike are tested by his presence. And the Gentle Queen faces her own challenge when the sorcerer's true colors are unveiled.

A/N: If you have not read the first eight stories in the A Light in the Darkness main story arc (Awakened, Shadowed, Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, and Veiled), 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 Thirty-Six: Clash

"Who hit you?" Oreius stared in shock at the ugly bruise across his wife's cheekbone.

Alambiel startled then glanced at him in the mirror. "I thought you had a pile of paperwork that needs your undivided attention." She touched her fingers to her cheek and winced a little. "And it actually looks better than it did yesterday."

He could not believe his ears. "Who hit you?" He crossed what little distance there was to his wife's place in front of her dressing table. She ignored him in favor of playing with some of the makeup she rarely used. Oreius flicked his tail in agitation as his mind raced with the possibilities. If she had been struck the day before yesterday . . . The Tarkaan had left his meeting furious at the interruption when one of the Calormene guards informed him of an incident with his wives. "That Tarkaan dared to strike you when you told him of the filly. I know you stayed behind to help with her body but that gives him no right to assault you. I do not care how angered he was at the filly's death."

His wife sighed as she finished with her toilette, the bruise now invisible but its memory still seared him. "Actually, it was not the Tarkaan."

"Then who?" He stamped a hoof. "I will cut off the hand of whoever did this to you."

"Darling, self-mutilation is not the answer."

Oreius froze. "I have never struck you."

"Well, there was that one time you opted to slap me out of a panic attack."

"I did not feel I had another option at the time and did I strike you hard enough to leave a bruise?"

Alambiel shook her head but didn't meet his eyes as she dug through her jewelry box. "Pretty sure you didn't think you were hitting me night before the night before last. But whoever you were dreaming about, you certainly meant to hit them."

"The nightmare." Oreius knelt beside the stool and bowed his head as he rested a hand on her knee. "Why didn't you tell me?"

His wife's slender hand rested atop his and then he felt her press a tender kiss to his temple. "Because we never had a moment to ourselves the day before yesterday where we could do so and I was fairly certain you wouldn't react well to a note that said 'Sorry you had such an awful nightmare last night, Kentauri. By the way, you managed to backhand me when I tried to wake you up the first time.'"

Oreius looked up at that, a hint of a frown breaking free. "We could have spoken last night."

Alambiel sighed then nodded. "We could have but I needed you. We had to talk about that nasty letter and I . . . I cared more about comfort than worrying about an accident-related bruise. And you don't tend to be as comforting when you're busy feeling guilty."

His frown grew as he recalled how badly his wife had needed him. She never said it but he suspected she blamed herself for the filly Shirin's death. And then there was the letter that had sent her to Tuulea for comfort because he had not been available. He also suspected the only reason Alambiel hadn't broken completely was because his clever wife had found a way to save the newborn foal despite the news he had first received that the little one had been stillborn. But . . . He shook his head as he rose then carefully cradled Alambiel's cheek. "Forgive me, sweet, I should not have struck you even if I were in the throes of a night terror. And forgive me for not paying close enough attention to you that you were able to hide it this long."

His wife's blue eyes lit with a mix of love and amusement. "There is nothing to forgive. I should have known better than to think I could wake you easily when you didn't respond to me talking to you. I just didn't expect you to swing a backhand before I could get out of the way." She stood and then rested both hands against his chest. "Love you, Kentauri."

Oreius laid his free hand over them and pressed them closer. He hoped she could feel how his heart beat for her. "And I love you." He caught the little glance she tossed at her jewelry box and he squeezed her hands. "We will find it."

"I am glad we got your mother's ring back. I mean, it is the heirloom. But my wedding ring . . ."

He lifted her hands so he could press a kiss against her curled fingers. "I do not know what further mischief the thief might intend but I will see you get it back. And if it remains lost or is damaged, I will have a new one made for you."

"It will not be the one you gave me when we wed."

Oreius kissed her fingers again. "If you are wearing it, it does not matter if I gave it to you before witnesses or not. I will see only a symbol of our love and our marriage." He smiled at her. "And I will gladly speak the vow again, my star," he kissed her forehead, "my love," and then he brushed a kiss against her lips, "my princess." He wrapped his arms around her as he deepened the kiss.

A knock intruded on their world. Alambiel laughed then whispered, "Next time."

His amusement at her teasing faded when he accepted the message.

"What is it?"

"The High King has summoned us."

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Thalia watched her husband pace the room. Powerful strides carried him with an ease that seemed almost fluid, like watching his Tigers. He glanced at her. "You don't have to be here, Flower. It's just an unofficial meeting."

"Do you not want me here, My Lord?"

He stopped then came to stand in front of her, taking her hands in his. "No, that's not what I meant at all. Thalia, I was just thinking . . ." He let go of one of her hands and rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze softening in such a way that it felt as though the first warm rays of sun had fallen on her Tree, waking it after winter's rest. "I don't want you to be hurt again. It's time to discuss the Calormenes leaving and this visit has been painful for you, Flower."

She lowered her head, thinking again of the lost sapling and the poor little seedling. The Princess Royal had been brief in her report yesterday that Paniz's child had been stillborn. Thalia's heart ached for the poor woman. First they had failed to save Shirin and then her own daughter had died. She must be so lonely. Thalia blinked, willing that she would cease watering all of Cair Paravel with her tears. Then she offered a slight smile as she gently squeezed her husband's fingers. "I wish to stay."

"All right, Kat and Oreius shouldn't be too long and Ed should be here before them if his Wolves haven't gotten him in trouble again."

"Peter, I—"

Thalia cut herself off with a little cry of surprise as the council room doors flew open with such force that they crashed against the walls with their own clap of thunder. Tarkaan Babak charged into the room. A snarl twisted his features like a tree that had been struck by lightning. His dark eyes glinted with cruel wrath as he pointed at them. "Barbarians! What honeyed lies do the vipers whisper until one draws near enough for their fangs to sink into their breast? Is that not what the poets said? There lies truth!"

Peter pushed her back but he did not rest his hand on his sword. Instead, her husband stood strong as an oak against the storm of the Tarkaan's wrath. "Tarkaan Babak, what is the meaning of this intrusion?"

"The meaning, O Barbarian, is one of thievery and stolen property! You have robbed my house! Barbarian deceit! Trickery and witchcraft so you might steal and hide Shirin and the babe! Return them to me! They belong to my house! I will not have my property stolen!"

"Tarkaan Babak, Narnia sympathizes with your losses, especially since they happened one atop another, but we have stolen nothing."

"Lies! Lies and witchcraft! O Barbarian, I know what you sent your women, your witches, to do!"

Thalia looked away from the Tarkaan's enraged features as spittle flew while he roared with hurricane strength at her husband. Her gaze fell on the doorway. King Edmund and the General were there as was the Princess Royal. Then Babak roared again, "Witch!" Thalia's attention snapped back to the Tarkaan as he turned on her. "Witch, where did you take them? You have stolen my property! You were present at these Tash-blighted deaths. Tell me where did your spells spirit them! Now!"

She shook her head, instinctively backing away. "I- I do not know. I was not present when the seedling died. I came after she had been taken away."

"Lies!" Babak screamed, the vein in his forehead throbbing as he grabbed her arm, squeezing so hard she feared he might rip her branch from branch. She tried to release her corporeal form but fear defied her attempt. "Where is my property, O Witch of the North?"

She shook her head again. A terrified whisper escaped, "Peter."

The Tarkaan raised his hand. A different roar filled the air. "Take your hands off my wife!" Then Peter was there, terrifyingly glorious in his golden rage. He slammed his fist into Babak's jaw, knocking the older, heavier man to the floor with surprising ease. She was certain she saw a tooth knocked out of the Tarkaan's gaping mouth. Then Peter, her fierce warrior, knelt and the same hand he bloodied on the Tarkaan teaching him how hot the sun's wroth touch would burn touched her arm with the gentle caress of dawn's first warming rays. "Are you all right?"

Still wide-eyed and gasping for breath, she nodded. Peter's jaw tightened as he touched her cheek and then he rose. In direct contrast to before, Peter's voice emerged cold and imperious as he stared down at the sputtering Tarkaan. "Tarkaan Babak, you have violated the sanctity of ambassadorship with your assault on Our Wife, the Princess Consort. Gather your wives, your guards, and all who belong to your party and depart Cair Paravel within the hour. If you do not obey Us, We shall consider your actions, as witnessed by Our Royal Brother, Our General, and the Princess Royal, as a breach of the peace treaties between your kingdom and Our own for to assault a member of the royal household without provocation is an act of war. However, if you obey Us, We shall take into account your bereavement and shall not consider your actions as those of a thinking man acting in accord with the blessing of the Tisroc."

Babak staggered to his feet, still glaring at her. "Witch. She-demon, cursed of Tash."

Thalia scrambled back as he hit Peter hard enough to knock him into one of the chairs. She tried to gain her feet but fear made her movements clumsy and slow as though winter's numbing cold had seeped into her roots, slowing her reactions. She tripped as the Tarkaan drew his scimitar. She heard shouts but the words lost all meaning as he came for her.

The glittering blade seemed to morph into an axe before her eyes. Oh, Peter. She prayed her father would forgive him and that her beloved would forgive himself. But the strike never fell. Instead, she saw Peter lunge between them, Rhindon in hand. He blocked the scimitar and shouted, "Edmund!"

Slimmer hands than her husband's circled her arms with gentle but firm strength and Thalia found herself running beside the dark-haired King. They darted between the inner columns, stopping beside the General and the Princess Royal. Thalia gasped when she looked over her shoulder in time to see Peter reel away from the Tarkaan, one hand coming up to clutch at his arm. She struggled to free herself but King Edmund ignored her. He shoved her at the Princess Royal. "Keep her here."

Alambiel held her by the shoulder and then dragged her behind the General. The Centaur drew his claymore and stood at an angle, keeping his body between them and the ongoing fight. Thalia bit her lip to keep from crying out as the Tarkaan took advantage of his greater bulk to press the scimitar dangerously close to Peter's neck. She could only watch in horror as red bloomed into being, staining her husband's sky-blue tunic like a flower of death. She wanted to call out to Edmund to interfere but she dared not distract Peter.

Babak kicked out, somehow avoiding entanglement with his flowing orange-striped purple robes, and hit Peter solidly in the gut. Her husband caved in. Thalia's eyes widened as the Tarkaan brought his scimitar down toward Peter's exposed neck. But then it was Babak who cried out. It was Babak who reeled back, a large hand pressing against his side where Rhindon had bitten. Peter, her magnificently glorious Peter, charged. Swords clashed but Peter shoved Babak off-balance again. The Tarkaan snarled a filthy curse as he swiped at Peter's legs. Peter leapt over the blade at the same time Rhindon bit into the Tarkaan's left shoulder.

Peter's face was hard. His eyes glittered like blue ice. But still he held back, panting, "Surrender and your life will be spared."

"Die, Barbarian!"

Babak lunged, one arm hanging limp by his side, but the scimitar still swept down in a deadly arc. The swords rang as they clashed but then Peter slammed his foot down on Babak's as he slid Rhindon free of the scimitar, forcing the Tarkaan's arm wide. Thalia flinched as Babak gasped then he dropped, slowly sliding off of Rhindon. The Tarkaan who had wrought so much cruelty and pain pressed his hand over the growing bloodstain blooming in the center of his chest, staining the garish robes a somber, ominous color. Then his bearded face grew slack and the light dimmed in his dark eyes.

Peter looked at his fallen opponent and shook his head sadly as he knelt and wiped Rhindon clean on the Tarkaan's robe. Then he reached out and closed Babak's eyes. "It didn't have to end like this."

The Princess Royal's grip on Thalia's shoulder slackened and she wrenched free. Racing around the General, she ignored King Edmund as he stood with Shafhelm drawn. Her only intent was to reach her husband. "Peter! Oh, Peter!"

"Thalia." He dropped Rhindon as she fell to her knees beside him. Thalia let out a little sob as she took in the discoloration already appearing beneath his left eye and the blood staining his left arm, his side, and his chest. Then she placed her hands on either side of his face. She leaned in and kissed him through her tears, whispering his name over and over again. Her fingers found their way to his sunlit hair and she could not help but run her hands through as she continued peppering his face with kisses. Peter's lips curved up beneath hers, forming into a smile. "It's all right now, Flower. You're safe."

He hissed and she leaned back, suddenly afraid she had brought him greater injury. He waved it off with a smile but Thalia still looked over her shoulder at Babak. Then she turned wide eyes on her husband. "What will the Tisroc say?"

"I don't know." Peter closed his bloodied fingers over hers as she clutched his forearm. "Ed?"

"Babak was mad. He attacked the Princess Consort in front of witnesses and then forced the High King into combat. The Tisroc (may he have moldy pie forever) is cunning enough to know Narnia won't stand for that. I doubt he'll do anything except send us insincere apologies for yet another chap acting without his sanction and in a way that definitely doesn't reflect Calormen's intentions toward the North."

Thalia glanced over her shoulder at the broken body. How sad it would be for Paniz. She was free of her horrible husband but she had lost a child and now she would no doubt be held in disgrace. She had her sons but Thalia feared Zinat would find some vile way of stealing them from Paniz as well. She looked away from the fallen body of the cruel man, her hands still on Peter's arm. He offered a crooked smile. "It's nothing, Flower. Just a couple scratches."

Thalia raised one hand and barely grazed her fingertips over a gash across his chest and the bloodstained gap in his fine tunic. Her husband winced a little but then he grinned wider. "That one's the worst of it, I'm sure."

"I think someone should ensure this is truth. You have been known to dismiss the deepest bite of the axe as taking no more than a strip from your bark."

Her husband's eyes twinkled. "I think you should, Flower. I will try not to be difficult."

The sound of someone clearing their throat brought an uncomfortably warm flame to her cheeks as she looked up to see the Just staring at them. General Oreius had his hand on his wife's shoulder as they conferred in whispers, their heads close together. Her brother-in-law cleared his throat again, this time raising both eyebrows. "Peter, I know he knocked you down a couple of times but try to remember we're not done here yet."

Peter grabbed her hand and squeezed it before he got to his feet, tugging her up with him as he looped an arm around her waist. "Right. Oreius?"

The General looked up. "My King."

"Have the Tarkaan's guards remove his body. And see that the members of the Calormene party who still live, save the Lady Paniz, are escorted back to their ship." An involuntary shudder ran through Thalia down to her very roots and Peter tightened his hold on her. "They have overstayed their welcome."

"At once, High King." The General offered a curt bow then left.

"What about the Tarkheena? Someone will have to inform her and Lady Paniz that Babak is dead."

"I know." Peter looked down at her again, concern and sorrow in his sky-colored eyes now. "Kat, what do you think would be bes- Kat?"

The Princess Royal had turned as pale as cherry blossoms. Then she spun around and ran out of the room.

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"Kat!" Edmund lengthened his stride as he raced after her. Of course, she was a bit faster than he was due to all that time she spent trying to outrun Oreius. "Kat! Wait!"

He caught up to her and she tossed him the slightest glance. "We forgot about Lady Macbeth."

Edmund drew breath to question her about what the sinister lady from the Scottish Play had to do with anything but then realization struck. Lady Macbeth who had goaded her husband along his ambitious and doomed path. Lady Macbeth who had been the one to kill . . . Who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him? Edmund almost groaned as he remembered the line from the Bard's play. He had only seen the Tarkheena once at Shirin's funeral pyre but the reports of how cunningly she directed her husband in his cruelties against the lesser wives more than proved her dangerous nature. How much of a stretch would it be for Zinat to also goad her husband into attacking Peter and Thalia?

An increased number of soldiers were marching into the corridor leading to the Calormene party's guestrooms. They all leapt out of the way as he and Kat raced past. The female soldiers were already restraining the Calormene guards so there were none to challenge them. He could hear the sound of terrified wails emerging from one of the rooms. Kat ran through the partially opened doors.

Edmund's pace increased even as he took in the sight of a terrified girl clutching the still body of another girl whose throat had been cut. The bedchamber doors were open. The Tarkheena knelt atop the mattress at the head of the bed. Her black hair was adorned with golden charms and rubies while her blood-red robes fell in sheer layers around her. Edmund's attention, however, was riveted on the curved dagger she held to Paniz's exposed throat. The Tarkheena had taken advantage of the other woman's weakened state to grasp her hair and yank her head back, further exposing her throat to her wicked blade.

"Zinat!" Kat's shout startled the woman and she half-turned, her dagger retreating slightly. Then a dagger hilt sprouted in the Tarkheena's chest amidst the heavy jewel-encrusted necklaces. The woman reached up with one hand to touch the hilt even as she toppled off the bed, still clutching her own blade. Paniz rolled to her side, struggling to pull herself out of reach of the madwoman who had attempted to kill her, and Kat rushed to her while Edmund hurried to check the Tarkheena. It was Kat's throw but still he checked for a pulse that no longer beat. He looked across the bed to where Kat was checking Paniz. She met his gaze and arched an eyebrow in silent query. Edmund gave a little shake of his head and Kat nodded. Then she turned to Paniz. "It's over now. They are both gone."

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A/N: Please Read and Review! The Lady Macbeth quote Edmund thinks of is from Shakespeare's Macbeth. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.