Disclaimer: Lucy, her cordial, and broom closets were not invented by me.
Beta'd by someone mad enough to keep up with my madness.

The Narnians, Ed decided the next day, were incredibly friendly and rather alarming.

It all started with the youngest Queen. She was the last one Ed would have pegged as a schemer, but she began showing up wherever he went. It started in the library, where Ed went the next morning for a quiet morning. She was there, waiting, having gotten up even earlier than Ed did. The goat-man was with her, watching her every move, but in a friendly, protective, annoyingly-nervous way. "Mr. Tumnus," she'd introduced him as, and Ed liked her the better for having cared enough to do that, but.

But when Karissa offered to get him his customary glass of water, the Queen—the Queen—jumped at getting it for him. And while over there she'd done something with her necklace, and, when she turned back around, Ed had seen a small vial sliding back into her dress.

And he recalled promising the Duke that he would not eat or drink anything the Narnians gave him. When she brought the water over, it smelled more delicious than any dessert he'd had, as if to entice him to drink it. Whatever it was, it certainly wasn't just water.

So he hadn't touched the glass of water the entire morning, while he sat with the Queen and she told him all about the parts of the ocean she'd heard about from her turtle friend Purpoise, and he tried to keep in mind that she might be trying to kill him.

While her whole face lit up and she told him how wise one hundred years of travelling made a turtle.

And so he almost, almost gave in and trusted her. He almost let down his guard, taking her as she appeared, and enjoying her company.

But she kept giving the glass these side glances.

She has no subtly, so she's not a practised assassin. Why is she trying to give me something?

If I ask her, would she say? She seems honest. But she's also very clearly trying to hide it.

…I am aware of the irony of that last statement.

So asking her about what she's hiding is probably a bad idea. Why is she doing this? Why would she want to kill me herself? That doesn't seem like her.

Unless she wants to do this for her siblings, or to prove herself, or something like that.

So he'd tested her, offering her the glass, but she said she did not need it.

And later, when she'd nearly lost her voice, she got up and got more water, and drank that.

She did it, he saw, without thinking. Perhaps she just did not want to take another person's water?

But when he got up to leave the library, Karissa calling him to a new appointment, the Queen stayed in her chair, thinking; and glancing back as he exited, he saw her pick up the glass and stand to leave.

She isn't leaving the glass.

You know, the simplest explanation would be that I do not read people as well as I thought I did.

And I like her; I liked hearing her, her opinion, her eagerness, even her silence when she wasn't speaking. It felt so familiar; I kept finding myself relaxing.

Only it's hard to do that when someone might be trying to kill you.

I could have sworn she liked me too, that she enjoyed speaking with me. But that's right back to me possibly reading people wrong.

I have a headache that doesn't have anything to do with my injury now.

Karissa hid him in a small broom closet, saying she had to go meet a member of the royal family and she wanted to hide him from the Narnians while she did. Ed was almost sure she wasn't meeting Pell this time; the Duke would want to know that Ed had spent most of the morning with one of the Narnians. And Karissa would tell him.

And if Ed did not do as Karissa asked and the Narnians found him, Karissa would be in trouble.

So he sat on an overturned bucket in the dark and thought and thought, and tried to reach any possible conclusion but that the Narnian Queen with an open face and earnest heart had slipped something she didn't want to drink into his water.

I can't think of anything.

A servant opened the broom cupboard at that moment and screamed, and by the time Ed calmed her down, Toma had found them. Toma sent the maid away with a few soothing words, and then, to Ed's surprise, came and sat down with Ed, shutting the door behind him.

"Do you also fancy the dark?" Ed asked dryly, after a moment had passed. To his astonishment he heard Toma chuckle.

"I have for years; but not today, I think."

What changed?

I could ask. But I think I'm content to sit in silence till he's ready to talk.

"I met the Narnians today," Toma said after several minutes of comfortable quiet.

"Which ones?" What do they want with a Healer? Poisons?

Other than the one the youngest Queen brought?

"Four of them—well, eight, actually, but four came to ask questions or speak to me, and the other four came as escorts, I think." He waited a moment; but Ed was content to let Toma find his own thoughts before voicing them. It was odd to not have to draw out words from the healer about himself. "First the oldest Queen. She is—quite beautiful."

Ed felt an odd stirring of protectiveness, for this girl, this woman, he had met only once—but who was so obviously hurting, who seemed incapable of hurting people back. "She is quite young."

"Oh, yes, I agree; I did not mean I was interested in her, it'd be unthinkable for a healer and a queen, that never occurred to me." Toma paused after that hasty sentence. I think he meant that. "I meant…there is something restful in her presence; her beauty soothes the soul."

I didn't find that to be true. But then she was very upset to see me.

"She asked me about head wounds, and, if the wound was completely healed, if the memories would come back."

Well. I guess they took my words seriously.

"I told her, if there was a way of healing the wound completely, I thought the memories probably would return. Then I had a visit from Narnia's General. He asked me about how patients are treated in Galma."

Uh…"Who is the General?"

"A very large Centaur."

"A very large what?"

"The creature that is half man, half horse."

A Centaur. That's good to know. I have a name for the terrifying titan now.

But—does Narnian's General want to know so he can measure how sane I am? Or for other reasons?

"Then I had a visit from the younger Queen. She asked me what you like to drink and eat here, where you eat, and when."

Well, that's reassuring. Maybe she's the killer among the three.

Surely, surely not.

Then give me another explanation!

…She has a potion she specifically brought from Narnia for a head wound she didn't know I had? And is just generous to give it to me, someone she doesn't know well? Insistently?

Yeah, I didn't think so.

"Then I had a fourth visit, from the King of Narnia." Ed stirred, remembering that fierce gaze, the magnetic personality that so easily drew truth and belief from his heart. The King.

"What did he ask you?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" I can't figure these people out at all.

"He said his brother had a way of sitting with people and drawing them out, and he was going to try it, since his brother wasn't here."

Ed felt an odd stirring in his heart at that idea. For the first time, he wondered what this other King was like, that his absence left such pain on his sister's face, and such heavy weight on his brother's shoulders.

And if it would spur a young girl, who seemed so fearless and earnest, to kill.

What happened to that King?

Focus. Toma first. Get him at ease, and then ask that question.

"So what did you and the King talk about?"

"About my hopes and dreams, or the absence of them. Dreams that stirred, on seeing these three kings and queens." Silence fell again, Ed letting it sit. Something weighed on Toma heavily, and such things were not easily said. "I used to have so many dreams," Toma whispered. "I dreamed of healing our enemies till they never thought of hurting us again, of banishing sickness from the castle and the town. I dreamed of watching the world made whole. Now our enemies lie hurt inside our walls or kill during the night, and the castle and town are free from sickness because the sick aren't allowed inside. My dreams died the day the Duke told me if I healed the family at my feet, he would kill all the men and women in the room."

Ed felt his stomach churn and his throat burn with the acid as it heaved; this was the Duke? Had he had reason? "Who was the family?" Ed whispered.

"A threat to the throne and the Duke's plans. But there are times that should not make a difference. A child crying from a deadly wound is one of them."*

"Toma—are you telling me the truth?"

Toma did not answer for a moment, and then began to laugh with a bitterness that stung Ed's heart. "Have I told you the truth? I have tried. I tried not to lie to you. But I have lied, I have, by what I have not done and not said. But Ed, I have never lied to you about the Duke. My word on that, by all the dreams I wonder if I can rebirth."

Ed fell silent himself. Which part of that do I respond to? Him calling me Ed? The bitterness? The way he tries so hard to walk a road that seems impossible to walk? The way he has lied?

"Toma, what do you want?"

"My lord, I…," Toma sighed, filling the room with the sound of a tired soul. "I am too wise to want anything anymore."**

At that moment the door flew open again, and Perick stood silhouetted in the doorway. "Toma, get out of here," he hissed. "The Duke is on his way, and he's already upset about you meeting with the Narnians." He reached in and grabbed Toma's hand, yanking him out into the hall and spinning him around. "Go!" he said with a shove. Perick glanced back into the closet, where Ed still sat. "He's coming for you. Try not to make him choleric, would you? I'd like all of us to keep our livelihoods through lunchtime, at least." Perick shut the door, swiftly but very quietly, and Ed heard his light footsteps running down the hall.

There was a moment of silence, and then Ed could hear the Duke.

"...in a closet, is that really the best place you can think of? I do not go into servant halls. Go and fetch him to my study! And if you are not capable of keeping him away from the Narnians, girl, I will find someone who can! And you'll be out with the fishermen each morning and never set foot near Pell again!"

Ed stood and exited into the hall, blinking in the light just as Karissa came running down the corridor. "I heard I'm to go to the study," Ed commented dryly, and Karissa nodded, plucking at his sleeve as she tried to catch her breath.

"Please hurry," she said breathlessly. "He'll be even more angry the longer he has to wait."

I'm sure that would be good for his character.

But not good for Karissa.

Very well, more running. And run the two did, though it jarred Ed's head, till they stood outside the study door. Karissa knocked timidly, then opened the door and went inside, curtseying just inside it.

"Here's Ed, Your Grace."

"Edwin, girl, Edwin. Now get out of my sight."

"Yes, Your Grace. Sorry, Your Grace." Karissa stepped back and motioned Ed inside, whispering, "be careful," at the side of his head as he passed.

"You called for me, Your Grace?"

The Duke stopped pacing and sat in the throne-like chair. "I hear you met the Narnian Queen."

"I did. Your Grace." Ed added the last because he remembered Karissa and Perick, and all the others who would suffer if the Duke remained angry. No one in authority should have such a short temper.

"And?"

"And, Your Grace?"

"WHAT DID YOU THINK OF HER?" the Duke roared, shoving back his chair and beginning to pace again. Both fists were clenching and unclenching as he paced, the golden ends of his navy sash swinging out whenever he turned.

Ed hesitated. Should I tell him? It would take his attention off those vulnerable to him, at least. "I thought her very appealing and young, sir. But—"

The Duke spun, squinting at Ed. "Well?"

"She tried to get me to drink something."

"Did you take it?" Ed shook his head, and the Duke walked back to his chair, falling into it with a grunt. He looked even more alarmed than Ed would have thought, letting his chin fall into his hand as brooded. He looked up abruptly a few minutes later.

"You don't think of her as a killer, is that it? Is that what you think of her, you stupid boy?" Ed said nothing. He didn't want to discuss his fears and hesitations with the Duke, nor his reasoning. "Let me ask you something, if you think you're so smart. Before these children came along, the land belonged to a very cruel and powerful witch. How on earth do you think four children conquered her, if not through a greater strength and cruelty? Hmm? How do you answer that?"

That's…

They would need to be stronger than her. And perhaps they succeeded because they seem so much less alarming, but are just as cruel.

The Duke has a good point. But I'm not accepting it as truth, not from a man who makes his subjects flinch in fear.

I can ease his anger, though.

"I had not thought of that, Your Grace. Do you have suggestions for my safety? The Queen seems to be seeking me out."

"Don't eat or drink anything she gives you. I'm planning on sending you to the other side of the island in a few days, once I can arrange it so the Narians don't know; their pesky Birds seem to keep an eye on everything, so it'll have to be with the weekly supply run. But you keep wary of them till then, you hear? Do you hear me, boy?"

"Yes, Your Grace." I hear you. But I'm not necessarily obeying.

The Duke seemed to read some of what Ed was thinking, at least, for he scowled and yelled for the younger man to get out. Ed bowed and exited, shutting the door firmly behind him. He turned and found himself face to face with the Narnian King.

"Are you all right?" the King asked, eyes running up and down Ed with a quick familiarity that Ed found disconcerting.

"The Duke is slightly upset this morning," he responded evenly.

"At you?"

"At many things."

"Us included, no doubt," the King said dryly. "I doubt his temper would be made better by finding us together outside his study door. I believe you said you'd spend time with me today; would you care to join me for lunch? Somewhere outside where the Duke may lurk?"

Ed regarded the King, who looked back with steady eyes. Lurk? Ha. I don't see the Duke lurking.

On a more serious note…I don't think you mean to harm me. I think you are concerned at how the Duke was treating me, and want to keep me close.

But you could also be a practised killer and I shouldn't take too many chances on faith alone. "Where were you eating, Your Majesty?"

The King winced. "Don't—" He broke off before finishing, leaving an awkward pause.

Don't what?

Don't call you by your title?

"We can eat wherever you like, and with whomever you'd like," the King said at last.

"I usually eat with Pell and Karissa in the garden."

"Am I invited, then?"

"If you wish, Your Majesty." I hope they don't mind me bringing one more for lunch. And I hope Perick isn't there and feels he has to give up his chair.

"Then please lead the way to the garden, if you have time."

Ed nodded and the two fell into step.

Perfectly in step.

This felt like something Ed's body had done a thousand times, like the moment he grasped the hilt of the sword in the practice yard. Ed glanced at the King to see if he noticed as well.

The taller man had his eyebrows furrowed, as if he were thinking deeply. Not as if he noticed them in step. Still, looking at that weighted face, Ed felt the urge to try to help.

Either you are one of the best men I've ever met, or the most dangerous liar.

You and your sister, both of you are people I want to trust wholeheartedly. But…

But your sister acts suspiciously, and I don't know how you four won your crowns.

"May I ask you a question, Your Majesty?"

"Please do," the King said, not breaking his stride. Ed turned down a hallway and the King followed easily.

"I heard, before you came, that a cruel Queen ruled Narnia before the three of you came."

"Yes," the King said shortly.

"How did you defeat her?"

The King stopped. "That's your question?"

Ed stopped and turned, facing the king with the same attention he was being given. "I read that she was powerful, and I wondered how you won the kingdom from her."

The King started walking forward, slow steps and tired movements. "We won by the help of a Lion."

"A Lion?" He said he served a Lion, earlier, but I didn't think much of it.

"The Great Lion, Aslan Himself."

Ed drew in a breath. Something about that name lifted his heart, as if he'd been searching for his family for years, not weeks, and in the Lion he had found them all. As if all the longing he heard at the cry had been met. He wanted to hear more. "The Lion did not want to rule?"

"He rules over us, and our rule is based on His. He sacrificed Himself for my brother," the King offered, voice low and wary, "and my brother broke the wand of the Witch, turning the tide of the war. Then the Lion took her life."

Ed slowed, trying to picture it; to picture something large and yellow jumping in front of a boy, shorter and perhaps blonder than the man beside him, and the boy darting from behind the cat to shatter the wand of the dark woman with a cruel face. He blinked, and found the Narnian King watching him keenly.

I feel like he's expecting something, and I don't know what it is. I want to give it to him, though.

And, Ed thought, watching as the King's eyes grew sad and looked away, now I feel awful because I didn't.

They won by the strength of a lion. That is not cruelty. At least, I don't think it is. How do lions fight?

And why do I want to meet this Lion so much?

"I hope I meet the Lion someday."

"If you wish to, you will. Though it will be His timing, and not yours."

Ed smiled wryly. "That seems to be a privilege of kings."

"And those higher than kings," the Narnian agreed.

They arrived at the garden and went through without another word. They found two tables set up instead of the customary one, set side by side, with six chairs around it. Pell and Karissa sat side by side, with the beautiful Queen at one end, speaking to Karissa.

Karissa, Ed saw with surprise, was speaking animatedly to the Queen, who listened with a smile on her face.

She must have a gift for drawing people out and making them comfortable.

The Duke's disdainful "girl!" at Karissa rang through Ed's head, and he winced at the contrast.

Internally only, because the King's reactions every time Ed had hinted at problems still unsettled the younger man.

"Ed!" Pell called, and the two girls ceased their conversation, Karissa standing up and curtseying, and a smile lighting the Queen's face and eyes.

Ed caught his breath. If she was beautiful from a distance, she was stunning when she smiled. I wonder if she uses her beauty to stop wars, or to start them. She's beautiful enough to do either.

But that kindness, the way she draws out Pell, even a jealous Karissa…I think she uses her beauty to heal.

I hope I didn't hurt her. I hope I'm not the reason she was in so much pain earlier, instead of smiling.

She greeted her brother with a gentle, "Peter," and Ed thought her voice as gentle as her face was beautiful. Then she turned to greet him.

"And Ed, of course."

"Good morning," he said back, bowing. He went to sit on the other end, by Pell, and the King sat by his sister.

"Is Perick coming?" Ed asked Pell, who shook his head.

"His father wanted his entire family near my father during this time," Pell responded quietly. "But he said he liked our lunches far better, and wished he was here instead."

"Then is there room for my sister as well?" the Queen asked, eyes moving from Ed to Pell to Karissa and then back to Ed.

"I do hope there is," a clear voice called from the entrance, and Ed turned in his chair to see the younger Queen walking towards the table.

She carried a glass of water in her hand.

And she still hadn't drunk any of it, so she wasn't carrying it for herself.

This…I have tried, with every bit of brain that I still possess, to account for this. And I can't.

And she won't give up.

"Lu, what on earth are you carrying that for?" the older Queen asked, and the younger glanced at it.

"I didn't want to waste it." She set it by her plate and looked expectantly at Pell. "May I sit here?"

Pell nodded, and Ed looked down, disheartened.

I don't want to eat anymore.

I don't want to see this. I don't want to like them all so much, while I sit and watch them try to kill me.

"Are you all right, Ed?" It was the gentle voice of the older Queen, and Ed looked up. She looked so concerned; like Ed's health and heart mattered to her. Her siblings looked up too, and Ed shoved himself backwards.

"I don't think I want to eat any more," he said quietly. And registered the utter hurt in the younger Queen's face; disappointment he might expect (if she wanted to kill him), but hurt?

He did not understand any of this. And he didn't know if he had the wits to figure this out.

Perhaps I've never been that intelligent.

"Is there anything we can do for you?" The beautiful Queen made the offer sound so open-ended, as if she would do anything, anything Ed would possibly ask of her.

Tell me which is real, this concern, or the Duke's tale and the water your sister won't drink.

Tell me why you're so kind to everyone, but your subjects are terrifying.

Tell me if you're monsters or not.

"Is there anything you're thinking that we can answer?" the King asked, and Ed twisted to look at him, startled.

How did you know my head is filled with questions?

"I…" Do I have any questions I can actually ask? Where the answer won't confuse me more, when I'm not certain what is true?

Well, yes, the one. "I was wondering what happened to your brother."

All five at the table went completely still. Karissa, recovering first, looked at the other three, then at Ed. "Why do you want to know that?" she asked, her tone full of fear.

That wasn't the reaction I expected from her. Maybe I really did do something to him. Maybe Karissa has been trying to avoid that, out of kindness.

Before Ed could explain, the King laid down his silverware with a clink; and something about his manner made everyone else stay quiet.

"My brother found something that led the four of us, with our soldiers, to try to sight Galma off of our shores. We found some ships below the cliff there that we believed were from Galma, though we have been informed by the Duke that we were mistaken. They attacked us, and in the struggle my brother fell off the cliff."

Were they from Galma? Was I there?

Did I fall when he fell? Were we fighting?

Was…was I the one who hurt your brother? But the King met Ed's eyes steadily, without hatred or fear, and Ed swallowed. Could you look at me like that, if I had been the one to hurt him?

The King continued evenly, "We have been looking for him since. And we will do whatever it takes to bring him home."

That—that tone, it sounds just like my heart, promising me I'll find the person who made that cry.

Coming from you, to me—is that a promise or a threat?

It sounds like a promise. It's so hard to believe you mean to harm me. But your sister, Ed thought, glancing down the table, still has that glass beside her plate.

Would killing me somehow help to bring your brother home? Or are you knocking me out or drugging me, and hoping I can tell you something I don't know?

"Thank you," Ed said at last.

"Thank you?" the youngest sibling said, her eyebrows furrowing. "But—"

"We much appreciate how open you are, and I can assure you that the Duke has no intention, none, of sending ships or soldiers to Narnia," Karissa interrupted hastily. "Ed, I do think you'd better go back now. The Duke was quite upset this morning, and I don't think we should make that worse."

Ed looked at Karissa, at the person who meant well, he thought, but who kept secrets. And who had just told a lie. The Duke had been pressing Ed for information about Narnia, and it was not in the interests of peace.

I don't trust you, and I don't trust the Duke. I want to trust the Narnians.

And that's the problem. I want to; I keep looking for excuses to trust them. I'm not judging their actions clearly.

I really need to see them when their attention is not focused on me, and I can just listen.

So Ed bowed, and went out, his heart aching at the looks of frustration and pain on the three other faces.

And at the emptiness on Pell and Karissa's.

*"There are some refusals which, though they may be done what is called conscientiously, yet carry so much of their whole horror in the very act of them, that a man must in doing them not only harden but slightly corrupt his heart. One of them was the refusal of milk to young mothers when their husbands were in the field against us. Another is the refusal of fairy tales to children." ~ Chesterton, "The Dragon's Grandmother,"
This is in one of my favourite collections of essays ever, Tremendous Trifles, and can be found at Project Gutenberg for free, if anyone wants to read them. My favourites are, "On Lying in Bed," "The Dragon's Grandmother," "The Perfect Game," and "What I Found in my Pocket."
I mean, any collection of essays with the quote, "'Oh, Parkinson, Parkinson!' I cried, patting him affectionately on the head with a mallet, 'how far you really are from the pure love of the sport—you who can play'" (emphasis added) is probably worth at least glancing over.

**"It is commonly in a somewhat cynical sense that men have said, 'Blessed is he that expecteth nothing, for he shall not be disappointed.' It was in a wholly happy and enthusiastic sense that St. Francis said, 'Blessed is he who expecteth nothing, for he shall enjoy everything'" (St. Francis of Assisi, also by Chesterton, page 75). I tend to think of the first as Toma and the second as Lucy; not a perfect analogy, but maybe memorable?