Peter must have dozed off, because when he heard noise in the dungeon hallway again, his cell window was almost totally dark.
This time the sentry didn't leave Susan to talk privately. The difference between visiting an accused prisoner and a convicted one, apparently. His sister's face was white, barely holding on to composure. Peter didn't have the heart to try to move toward her.
"You shouldn't have come, Susan," he lamented.
"Where, to the trial? Or here in hopes that I could see you one more time?" she countered, incredulous.
"Why did you put Ed and Lucy through that?"
"They both insisted, especially since I wouldn't let them come here with me before. Believe it or not, they thought you should have any support you could get in this charade."
The sentry cleared his throat. Susan threw a frustrated look over her shoulder.
"How are they doing?" asked Peter.
"About how you'd expect," Susan told him in a quieter tone. "Lucy is scared, begging for anything that could be done to help you. Edmund's furious that you're just letting it happen."
"He's not entirely wrong, you know."
"Oh don't you dare start on—"
"I failed to protect Caspian, Susan. I was there to see him through the hunt, and I failed my duty. Fair or unfair, I'm not completely blameless, and you're not going to change my mind on that."
"So Edmund should be mad at you?"
"He has every right to be angry, that anger has to go somewhere."
"That doesn't mean you have to be everyone's scapegoat. There's no justice in that."
"Justice isn't the only factor to consider here." Peter glared when the sentry made a second, more forceful cough. "Anyway perhaps I do, to some degree, deserve what's coming—"
"You don't deserve to die, Peter."
"And none of you deserve any form of repercussions on my account. I'd never be able to forgive myself, Susan."
They fell into awkward, agonizing silence. Susan fidgeted with the trim of her cloak. Peter was tempted to do the same with a bit of straw, but in the quiet he was made acutely aware of his clinking chains.
"May I please be allowed in the cell, just to hug him one last time?" his sister abruptly requested.
"Touching as this is, it's usually not allowed," grumbled the sentry.
"Then can this be an unusual instance? After my brother's years of service to the kingdom, can you not permit him a shred of human dignity?"
The sentry looked back along the corridor, expression hard to read in the torchlight. Susan pulled out a purse of gold coins. Peter had never seen her like this.
"I'm begging you, sir. Surely you have a family of your own. What would you want if you were in my place?"
The gruff man studied the money in her hand, and finally relented. "Only a short time." He snatched the coins, pocketed them, then pulled out a ring of keys.
Susan rushed in, falling to her knees and throwing her arms around Peter's neck. He couldn't resist hugging her in return. Her warm embrace in the chilly cell was at once a marvelous relief and further heartache.
"You don't deserve any of this," she insisted, "nothing will change my mind on that either. I know what kind of man you are, and you did everything you could for the Prince. Don't let them break you."
The sentry gripped her shoulder, started to pull Susan back. She attempted to wrest free. "I wasn't finished."
"I said I'd give you a short time. If the wrong person sees, we could all pay for it," hissed the sentry.
Peter gently unwrapped her arms from his shoulders. "It's okay, Susan. You've done everything you could, too."
"I don't want to leave you yet!"
"Take care of the others, that should be your priority now. I know you're strong and capable. Remember that!"
The cell door shut with a loud clang. Peter had to fight renewed emotions as the sentry led an increasingly distraught Susan away. Her cries cut right to his heart even though they slowly faded down the halls. Somehow her outburst made the situation truly real, cracked his mysterious shell since the trial in a way nothing else had. He wasn't going to see home again, or hug his other siblings. The next time he left this cell, he was going to face his death.
The following morning Peter woke to sounds of construction. He didn't have to look out the little barred window to know they were working on the execution platform. Of course it was going to be as public an affair as possible—not merely in the name of "justice," this was a warning to anyone who might step out of line once Miraz officially took the throne as king.
Susan's visit still haunted Peter's mind. How she broke down when she had to leave. He was so used to being the one taking care of his family, and yet he was helpless to console her in that moment.
It's for the best, their best interest, he forced himself to keep thinking. There wasn't anything else he could do.
The next time that sentry was on duty, an extra bit of pork and cheese appeared with Peter's evening meal. Maybe a coincidence, maybe a gesture of sympathy, however small. He tried to find some solace in the thought, for what it was worth.