Chapter 4:
The Dark Castle.
Emerylda.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Nails, meticulously painted the same shimmering hue as her gown, tapped against the table before her. Great swathes of emerald velvet fell about her legs, pooling about the floor like the leaves of a waterlily. She did not lift her gaze from the maps spread across them, not even as the muffled cries grew louder and louder, not even as she felt Sapphyre shift slightly. Was she glancing towards the adjoining door? Did her soft-hearted little sister pity the prince?
Perhaps it was time she put an end to the arduous cries of pain. She did not mind those sounds, but she needed Sapphyre's full attention.
It was the begging, the pathetic sobs choked around the gag that grated against her ears. An endless string of 'please' and 'help' and 'save me'. The screams she could handle, but surely a prince was above an act so common as begging.
Ah, her eyes flicked towards the dark door, he did not remember he was a prince. And though he'd not yet begun to beg, she knew it would begin soon. As it did every night.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
If only the enchantment she was working on had worked for more than a few hours at a time. Her magic, her enchantments, did not stick. It was not a problem she'd encountered before entering Narnia. Her magic was not the same, for never before had she had trouble bending someone to her will. If anything, it had been a specialty of hers. She'd been able to enchant men with but a glance and a small gesture of hand, a single curling of her fingers.
But the Narnian Prince…
"Make him cease that disgusting noise."
Sapphyre moved, as silent as a cat upon wet grass, even her chair silent as she moved it back. Emerylda almost snorted; for her sister's talents had been wasted in Knighthood, bound by oaths and orders and powers far beyond her control.
Her cloaked form disappeared behind the door without a single word, but a scant moment later, the prince's screaming stopped. And Emerylda could easily imagine what was happening beyond the door – her sister had removed the crown from the prince's head, the crown that held the enchantment. His impossibly dark eyes, a blue so dark they were almost black, would be looking up through his messy dark hair, thanking her sister without words. They would sparkle, as they were wont to do when his mind was his own, free from the crown she had fashioned.
His trembling hands would grip Sapphyre's gloved one's, pressing them to his brow as if she were some great queen.
And yet, that action never bothered Emerylda, perhaps because she knew that it was only temporary. That once she'd perfected the enchantment, the prince would think of no one but her, would see no one but her. And whatever little infatuation he had with her sister in his lucid moments would be snuffed out, like a flame blown out.
She knew her sister would never be foolish enough to fan such a flame.
And then the door was opening, and Sapphyre's flame-coloured hair, the colour of burnished copper, appeared. Her face, so like Emerylda's own, had been schooled into a mask of indifference – a mask she wore very well. Her Knights face, Emerylda had come to think of it; the beauty tampered by the flatness of those bright blue eyes, almost diminished by the downturn of her full lips.
"The Earthmen have taken him to his chambers tonight," she kept her voice low, as she always did, though there was no one who would dare listen to their conversations. She sunk into her chair once more, her eyes fixed on the maps as if she'd never left the table. "Now tell me, what is to be our next move?"
Emerylda allowed the smile to spread, twitching at the corners of her mouth. Her dear sister, ever her stout supporter. "There had been word again from the Western Wilds, of witches gathering. I would have you go there. Find allies, those that would fight for us. Fight with us."
The frost fae had not been what she needed; for all their power, they were not warriors.
But what their queen had said…to look beyond Narnia's borders…
She'd had a point, one that Emerylda had not quite seen at the time, almost blinded by her fury.
She would prove queen Eirwen wrong. For she'd not been lying when she'd told the fae she'd seen the future – for that vision burned brightly in her mind every waking moment. It was what kept her from giving up.
But for that vision…she needed fighters. She could not use the gnomes for that; they were builders, creators, things of the dark and the deep; they could build her city, but she could not use them to win her war.
For that she needed magic-wielders, for if she did not have the numbers, she needed the power to balance that. And the Narnians feared witches above most all else.
She would build a force akin to the one she once had.
And then once more, Sapphyre would lead it for her, as her General.
"Go now, sister, and return with allies," Sapphyre nodded at her words and gave her a brisk brow. Her posture and bearing as perfect as always, and with a sigh Emerylda left the chamber, going to her sleeping quarters.
But her luxurious bed she passed, it was not what she needed in that moment.
She pushed open the nondescript door, a door that only she and her sister could open; though she knew Sapphyre would never set foot within the enchantment chamber. She would never lay on the stones like Emerylda did, to bathe in the glow of the jewel suspended from the ceiling.
The Heart.
She feels her magic stirring, reacting to the magic of her home world.
And she feels it building within her, replenishing her, rekindling.
And she let a soft sigh, closing her eyes to the warm light it cast.
….
Cair Paravel.
Drinian.
The chandelier that hung from the centre of the ballroom had been crafted and gifted as a gift for King Caspian X and his Star Queen in the first year of their marriage; it shone its all its glory and invited all to dance.
But to Drinian, it was no invitation, it was a reminder of both his queen and prince, now lost to him. It reminded him that Caspian had no heir, and perhaps it reminded the other Lords so, for it was all they spoke about.
It was as if they pretended to keep their voices low, but the whispers carried from lips to eagerly listening ears – those with daughters ripe for marriage, those who could gain from knowing the new queen.
Drinian's heart spluttered at the thought.
For though Caspian had seen his six-score year, there were many who had sired children well beyond that age.
The ballroom doors had been thrown open wide, to reveal the garden beyond and let in the warm sea breeze as it had been many years passed. And as perfectly coifed hair met merry wind, as cheeks took on a rosy glow and eyelashes fluttered, the ladies of the court began to dance. Dancing together beneath the chandeliers light, amid colours of the sea and the forest, with a splash of amethyst here and there, their smiles were wide and their steps joyous.
The ladies looked like dryads of the forest, and Drinian knew, it was for the viewing pleasure of his king, who watched the dancefloor before him with worried eyes.
Was he observing the ladies before him?
Was he picking out who would be best suited to sit beside him as Queen of Narnia?
For once, Drinian did not know what lay behind his old friend's eyes.
But he would not see defeat there. Not yet.
He knew in the deepest parts of his heart that Prince Rilian was alive still.
Look at the dancers and then at his king once more he decided he would go himself. He would tell Caspian that he was going to visit his faun friends in the Shuddering Wood, but he would not stop there. No, he would go further and further north, where the knights disappeared.
Where the knights always disappeared.
And he would find his prince.
He would find Rilian.
And Narnia would have its Heir.
….
The Dark Castle.
Sapphyre.
"Where did you learn to fight?" Rilian's question caught her off-guard as she twirled her short-sword. "You move differently to me."
Memories danced through her mind: circular training rings, blue-cloaked warriors moving around each other as if dancing, swords flashing in the light of the two suns. "Where did you learn to fight?" She levelled her gaze at him and then immediately cursed herself as his brow furrowed.
"I don't remember," he then grinned at her; that wide carefree grin of his. "Perhaps I was someone incredibly important. A knight or a lord."
You have no idea. Instead of answering she danced away from his blade, in a twirl of cloak and blade, dancing just beyond the reach of his blade.
"You would move easier without the cloak."
She did not rise to his bait, did not touch the cloak where it was fastened with a pin. Instead, she darted forward, that very same cloak shifting colour in the false-sun of Underland. But a shifting of footwork, a burst of speed and she had moved under his sword and stood at his back, her blade pressed to his throat.
Her heart thundered from the exertion, but she knew a small smile had made its way to her lips. She could feel Rilian's pulse beating, hard and fast, she could see the shells of his ears turn red. Perhaps he was more exhausted than he looked?
She stepped back, sheathing her blade. "Well, you almo–"
And then she was flat on her back, blinking up at the sky as her vision swam. No, not the sky, those were his eyes, those twin pools of darkness, his loose, dark hair falling around him and her. His hands pressed her shoulders into the hard-packed dirt of the training ground, his body pressed along the length of her to keep her pinned down. And as her head stopped spinning, she became more and more aware of each and every place their bodies touched. Aware of each and every place of her body that burned, her stomach fluttering.
"What was that, little-bird? I almost won?" His voice was barely a whisper, his warm breath blossoming across her face and Sapphyre squirmed, unable to find her words.
His face, so close, broke into a stunning grin.
She knew, beyond a doubt, that her face was flushed scarlet, for she could feel the heat rising.
"I do believe I have bested you."
And then the heat was gone, the pressure gone and all at once she felt bereft. Empty. But then her eyes narrowed as he held his hand out to her, still grinning.
She took the hand he offered and yanked, throwing him off balance and throwing him onto the ground. Let him think that heat in her cheeks was anger as she rolled onto him, using her body weight to hold down his stomach. And with her knees either side of him, she pressed her sword to his throat once more.
Those night-sky eyes blinked, staring at her with something she couldn't fathom.
"You caught me by surprise," she scoffed, trying to keep her voice even, trying to keep her breath even. Trying to still her pounding heart. "You got lucky. That won't happen again."
Rilian grinned up at her, looking completely unfazed by how she straddled him, completely unfazed by the blade at his neck. It was as if they were having a conversation over supper. His eyes did not stray from her face. "I seized the opportunity before me. But I will beat you fair, blue-bird."
She rolled off him, laying beside him, nothing protecting her save for her cloak. "I have to leave again."
She felt him sit up, she felt his eyes on her, but she did not turn.
"But…you've only just returned."
A rueful smile was her only reaction.
"I will miss you, blue-bird."
And her heart, oh her traitorous heart skipped a beat. She kept her eyes fixed upwards, but still did not respond. He would not miss her, he would not register her presence as gone if he remembered her at all. For Emerylda had told her that she was planning on increasing her magic in the enchantments. She needed the prince under her full control, not just for mere hours.
He would be alone, but he would not know it.
He would not miss her.
She inhaled sharply. "My sister needs me. There are things that only I can do. I have a freedom that she does not, and she would entrust these tasks to no one else." As it should be.
"When do you leave?" Her heart tugged at the softness of his voice.
"Three days hence."
"Why do you not lead by her side? Why do you hide in the shadows?"
"I am a warrior, not a leader," she gives him a rueful smile, her heart clenching. Never again would she lead.
"Above all, you are my friend, blue-bird." He rested his hand upon hers and Sapphyre cursed her heart for its traitorous skip, at the warmth that spread through her body at that single touch.
She withdrew her hand, sitting up and moving away.
Once her sister mastered the enchantment, Rilian would no longer remember her.
She had to prepare herself for that day.