Chapter 5: Scheming Blood

Click. Click. Click.

"First Queen, thou art toying with my leniency in a most displeasing fashion. Forgive my ill words, but grace and cordiality are notably absent from your face and mouth of this morn."

Susan's face hardened at Edmund's words. Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and her mouth tightened sourly, but there was no other change to her posture. Even her nails continued to tap on the shiny polish of Peter's desk. Her vivid orange dress with blue and mauve lining the cuffs, neckline and hem and slashing down her skirts was fit tightly to compliment her figure. Her wavy hair glittered with silver ornaments pinned to her tresses, a delicate silver crown studded with white diamonds sat neatly on her head, and a circular silver pendant hung between a noticeably large amount of exposed cleavage. She was breathtaking.

Edmund seemed not to be impressed, his face equally sombre and cold as he stared her down with identical dark eyes. Thick arms were folded across the heavy black embroidery on his white coat, and he stood with his black-trousered legs and heavily polished boots apart. He wore no jewels, but the long, thin sword at his hip was enough, and to Lucy, he looked as fine as Susan and more fearsome. If she had not known him as well as she did, she would have been frightened by the dangerous slant of his eyebrows and the tenseness of his lips. And even now she was not sure that she did not feel a slight dread as she watched her brother glare across the room at the First Queen. She rarely saw him betray so much emotion: Susan must have really been trying his patience.

Click. Click. Click.

Susan tapped away with her long nails. "You overstep yourself, Second King," she said softly, dangerously, putting a tiny, almost indistinguishable emphasis on "Second". "At pleasure, thou art entertaining the fantasy that King Peter set matters to thy own decisions, at pleasure, thou art attempting to cow my spirit with words of fang and so seize fist over Narnia." At this, she paused to shake her head, as though pitying Edmund his feeble plotting, mouth tight, eyes cold. "You will not speak so to me, Edmund. I am your elder, as well as your queen, therefore unless you are plotting decapitation, you will guard your speech and dispose of such cretin illusions of mastery."

Lucy's eyes were wide by the end of her sister's proclamation. There had been no fewer then ten insults and threats in only a few moments of talk. What, in the name of Aslan, was wrong with Susan? She had gotten bigheaded over being placed in the central throne before, but never had it been this radical. Swallowing her outrage and getting her eyes back under control, she stood from her red satin seat and brushed her dainty rose-white skirts.

"Susan, I am pulled to utter a protest in Edmund's name," she began quietly, like a probing mouse at the edge of its door, searching for signs of a cat. But she could go no further. Susan's gaze whipped to fall on her, and her beautiful face was a cold, dark storm.

"Then tug back thy protests, girl," she snapped with the venom of ten serpents. "Your words as second queen do not hold much water. You should recognise rocky shallows when you tread upon them, Lucy, and this discussion is not one thou wouldst want to impede. Leave us." Her command was so final and her expression held such wrathful power that Lucy had turned on her heel and fled the study even before she had thought to do so.

Outside in the hallway, afternoon's cloud-filtered hues streaked through the sturdy windowpanes lining the walls. Lucy approached the nearest and looked out onto the ground below. To the left was a wall encasing still more of the palace, and to the right, greening meadows sprouting wildflowers, pale and vibrant, spread up to the very toes of Narnia's magnificent woodlands. Still farther could be seen the misty blue shadows of distant mountains.

The young woman let the rays of sunshine play over her face to melt the ice roiling in her chest. Susan's disgusting abuse of power was completely unacceptable: she had nerve, speaking to her own royal siblings in such a manner, younger though they may be. What was to be done, however? According to law, all beings of Narnia must obey the High King/Queen without question. Who would want to question them, with the paw of Aslan backing their judgment? And with Peter gone, Susan was High Queen, if only for the time being… Lucy sniffed bitterly. The Great Lion must have been ill when he'd placed Susan on the throne.

A chill wind breathed through the open window, blowing back her long straight hair from a sour face. Shivering, she reached out, grabbed hold of the latch and pulled it closed with a click. It was heavy and thick, and Lucy had to use the full strength of her arm to swing it inward. She leant against the inner sill, studying the stained glass picture before her. It was that of a man standing proudly among many trees. He wore odd clothes and held a sword point down against the ground. She frowned at the hilt and bent closer to see what she'd first thought a trick of her eyes. In the window's image, just where the blade ended at the centre of the cross hilt, there was a deep chip in the glass, as though someone had knocked a groove into its surface.

Lucy brought up a finger to trace the contour of the missing glass piece. Its jagged corners glittered red with the sunlight shining through from outside. Odd, she thought, that a pane even as thick as this should chip.

"Your Highness!" Surprised by the sudden shout from across the hallway, Lucy jerked her hand away, tearing her finger on the sharp edge of the broken glass. She grimaced with the pain and watched as the long and surprisingly deep cut began to brim with blood as red as the cause of its flow.

She looked up as the servant came nearer, a plain-faced young man with dusty brown hair. "What doth thou holler at thy queen for, boy?" she said irritably, though he was probably several years older then her.

His face reddened and he looked down at the floor while he bowed deeply. "Please forgive me, Queen Lucy. I should know better then to raise my voice so in your presence. I beg your pardon." He really did look mortified, almost ready to drop on his knees. Lucy softened at the sight of his chagrined expression.

"Think nought of it, fellow," she said in a much kinder tone then before. "Now, speak to me that which you will."

He kept his eyes on the floor as he spoke, saying his piece as quickly and quietly as possible, as though Lucy would again berate him for the volume of his voice. "First Attendant Lightsman bade me tell one of the Royalty of Narnia that the squirrel Terrus of Burlin's Cap has disappeared."

She stared in silence. What nonsense was the boy spouting? There must be hundreds of people staying at Cair Paravel. Why on Earth did he think she needed to know of one leaving? If it inconvenienced anyone in any way, why did he not take it to a lesser staff member? She was about to ask him that very thing when she remembered the squirrel, a week or so ago, who had brought the news of the invaders of Glasswater. Terrus of Burlin's Cap. Was that not where the slaughter had taken place?

She was quiet for so long that the boy chanced looking up from his bow. "Your Highness?" he said, as softly as ever. Lucy stared at him, completely distraught. Her thoughts were all a-jumble with a thousand tiny things that had built up over the past few days. Why, now, must she be burdened with another?

"I…" She tried to come to a decision, but there seemed to be a block in her mind that prevented her from thinking at all. She sighed, but instead of easing the tension, it only made her feel more harassed. "Inform the First Attendant that it is my wish that he investigate upon this matter. And have a blood salve sent up-"

Lucy cut off abruptly, staring down at her smooth index finger, where a moment ago, she had sworn there had been a deep slice in her skin. "What on earth…" she wondered aloud, running her thumb across her uncut finger. Had she imagined it? She spun to the window and sought out the image of the sword hilt. Spotting it, she leaned in close and studied the sharp gash in the glass. She would not be fool enough to prick herself on it again, but… Had she even done so? Frowning in confusion, she turned back to an utterly perplexed servant boy. "Go on," she tried to snap, but it came out too weakly to be heard as anything but a croak. Bowing low, the young fellow left.

Rubbing at the pain between her eyes, Lucy turned back to the windowsill and propped her elbows up on the ledge. There was a thump against the glass as she bumped her head against it, enjoying the coolness of it on her skin. She closed her eyes to shut out everything around her, just for the moment. She withdrew into her mind, where sisters were not enemies. A frown creased her brow. Where cut fingers did not heal themselves in a matter of moments…

The creak of a door behind her compelled her to turn. Regal and stern, Susan stepped out of the room, held Lucy's gaze for a moment with a deep, dark stare, then glided away down the hall, her skirts fanning out behind her. Lucy watched her go, wondering how she'd gone so quickly from sister to enemy in Susan's eyes.

Edmund emerged a few moments later, and spotted his youngest sister standing at the window. They exchanged a fraction of a glance, but it was enough for her to understand that there were certain things that needed to be discussed between them, in private. If there was any doubt that she had misread the look, her fears were reassured by the deliberateness in the way he walked down the corridor and took his time while stopping at the corner and turned around the bend.

Lucy waited a moment, then followed at a leisurely pace, making it seem as though she had somewhere to go, but that she was in no hurry to get there. As she rounded the bend, she caught the heel of a shoe that swung immediately out of view behind a door that closed quickly, but not too quickly. Edmund knew how to do these things. There looked to be no one around, but in a castle as large as this, one could never be too careful.

When she entered the room, he did not look up from the row of candles he was lighting along narrow tables against the nearest wall. Since the room was in the central block of the palace's chambers, there were no windows: flame was the only lighting available to them. With the door closed behind her, she waited until he was finished with her hands clasped in front of her.

The flickering glow of the candles illuminated half of him, while casting the other in shadow. The gold gilding on his belt and boots only gleamed on one side. For some reason, it made him seem all the more dark and sombre.

"It appears that we are alone in this, Lucy." With a flick of his wrist, the pinpoint of fire on the tiny wooden match in his hand was swept out in a puff of thick grey smoke that curled in on itself against its dark background. He placed it on a table, took a few steps toward her and folded his hands casually under his belt.

Lucy stood stone still. "Whatever 'this' is, I fear it shall bring us grief. Tell me of it, brother."

"Our sister is acting upon a folly I did not know she possessed. Her words and face blacken my heart, and spread truth to the doubts I had when first Peter assigned her to the throne in his stead. Some wickedness has reached her, and cast spells upon her. Of this I more than guess."

"Do you think me blind, deaf and dumb?" Lucy asked quietly, but went on before he could correct her. "It is not solely in Susan that this darkness has taken hold. I feel a dread in my breast, Edmund, one I have not known for uncountable nights, and my suspicions are centred on the very air that I take into me."

Shadows lined his face as he frowned at her. "I don't understand."

Lucy could only shake her head, her eyebrows drawn back in worry. "Oh Edmund, what are we to do?" She stepped toward him, and her lips quivered as she struggled not to cry. Why had Peter left, now at all times, when they needed him more than ever? He would know what to do. She could just see him throwing open the door, sweeping her up in his arms, and getting everything back the way it had been with a few well-placed words.

"I am at a loss, as art thou." He spoke softly, gravely, and each word boomed with a deep foreboding. "I wished only to caution thee: tread lightly around Susan, and any she keeps close. I did nay anticipate a time when I wouldst be wary of one I call my kin, but alas, such is come. Let us guard the road for news of Peter, and may Aslan lend him swift feet to lead him home." He sighed. "For the moment, we can only wait."

A ray of sunshine split through the darkness before its abrupt disappearance when Edmund closed the door behind him. In the dim, wavering candlelight, Lucy stood silently staring into space. Her mind roiled with unsolved problems and unanswered questions, and she felt an extreme and overwhelming sense of loss and hopelessness. She sat woodenly down in a chair on the wall, swallowing back a torrent of tears she felt welling up.

If Peter were here…

SecretlyEvil's note:
I am so sorry to have kept everyone waiting so long... I've been on the longest block in my life... that and I've written a lot in my LiveJournal... Anyway, I promise I'll explain Peter's situation in the next chapter, but I still have Lucy's problems to figure out.
Thank you so much to everyone who's been giving me help with my writing. You've affected not only this story but everything else that I'm working on! Have a blast with your flames, Susan-lovers! wink