"I NEED to–"

"What you need," Nyssa interjects hotly, "is to have that wound cleaned and dressed before it gets infected and you have to go about asking Queen Lucy a third time for her Fire-Flower medicine."

I ignore the fact that I never asked either of the two times Lucy gave it to me and continue my hopeless argument. "But I need to talk to Caspian," I say again, this time managing a whole sentence without getting cut off. "I..." I have so many things I need to tell him. "...Please just let me go find him."

"You're acting like this isn't going to take a few minutes," she grumbles. "You have less patience than a cub."

I relent with a quiet sigh, leaning into Edmund's side tiredly. He reads my disappointment quite easily and bends down to whisper in my ear.

"I'll find him," he tells me. "Don't worry."

I relax a little at his reassurance. "Thank you."

Edmund squeezes my arm as we follow Nyssa into the medbay. It's almost entirely empty, save for a few medics milling about or treating scrapes and bruises. Lucy was kind enough to use her cordial on any of the wounded Narnians who escaped the Telmarine palace, including me. A few with only minor injuries managed to dissuade her and receive basic treatment instead.

I don't see Caspian or Peter anywhere, despite Susan having told all of us to see a medic. Bastards, I think angrily. How did I get dragged here?

Nyssa glances over her shoulder at me to make sure I haven't somehow slipped away. I take the opportunity to send the cheetah a pointed glare. She ignores it and continues toward one of the wooden examination tables, this one unoccupied and tended to by a bay centaur with rich, brown braids. Hearing us approach, they turn around — she. Starlock.

Her silver eyes bore into me like knives. This time, though, I don't shy away. I stare right back. You knew. You let it happen.

As if blind to my death glare, Starlock inclines her head to Edmund and waves us to her work table. "Come this way."

Nyssa obeys without question while Ed hesitates, appearing to mirror my unease. His muscles are tense and he curls his fingers firmly around my arm, pulling me closer against him. By his body language, he seems inclined to keep as much distance between us and the centauress as he can. I would feel the same way if I weren't so angry. All this time, she knew.

"I have to talk to her," I explain in a low voice, pulling him reluctantly along.

"Who is she?" He hisses.

The question bothers me. Do I know who she really is? Or has she lied about that, too?

"I don't know," I answer.

He doesn't say anything else but I notice him place one hand on the pommel of his sword — a warning to the Narnian. And it doesn't slip her notice.

Starlock eyes the king and his weapon for the briefest of moments, but neither of us miss it. Good, I think. Let her notice.

Tail swishing, she shifts her weight and looks down at Nyssa. "Would you or his highness find something substantial for your friend to eat?" She throws a glance at me and Edmund. "I'm under the assumption she's been without food for a time."

Oh, how I wish I could tell her she's wrong just to say it. But she's right: I haven't eaten anything since after yesterday's council, a few hours before leaving for the raid. Although, with everything that's been going on, I haven't had a chance to lay down let alone eat something.

A vision of Jadis's severed head flashes in front of my eyes, engulfed in flames and filling my nose with that sickening smell...

My stomach churns. "I'm not hungry," I declare, reaching for the edge of the table to steady myself against it. If I eat something now it's just going to come right back up.

Edmund relinquishes his hold on me as a beat of silence passes between the four of us; Nyssa breaks it.

"I'll find the Prince," she offers, meeting the gaze of the boy beside me. This suprises me, but he seems to have expected it and nods his agreement.

While Nyssa trots back to the central chamber, Edmund turns toward me to meet my confused stare. His eyes say a million things at once, none of which I can recite or put into words, but tell me everything I need to hear.

I wish I could fall into him and drown in his embrace and we could just be us without everything else. I wish there was a moment we could steal under the sky that hasn't been tainted by war or death. I wish, I wish...

A sad smile pulls at the corners of his mouth, softening his features and filling his beautiful brown irises with sorrow and understanding. I know, they say.

He looks down, passing his fingers delicately between mine. I'll find you later.

"Please don't get me any meat," I mutter.

A soft, amused smile pulls at his lips. "I know," he says, calloused fingertips tracing the lines of my palm. He looks up at me and something in his eyes tells me he wants to say something else, but then he faces Starlock and nods tersely, his hand slipping from mine.

I watch Edmund leave, wondering if it would've been better if I'd asked him to stay.

"I'm surprised you're still on your own feet."

My eyes narrow, shifting to stare incredulously at the centauress. "And what is that supposed to mean?" I demand. "That I was to be at those of the witch, instead?"

She fixes me with a grave, unamused look; her hands busy tearing strips of linen. "It means," she retorts, "you have neither slept nor eaten in far too long and should be relapsing."

I grind my jaw in frustration. She's right, of course, but I do my best to ignore it.

While Starlock finishes prepping and gathering her supplies, I manage to brace my hands against the lip of the table and carefully haul myself up. Finally rested, I'm able to feel just how sore my legs and feet are. The urge to curl up right there on the tabletop and sleep through the rest of the war nearly wins over my subconscious battle with exhaustion, but then she returns.

Dipping a cloth in a bowl of water, she wrings it partially dry and holds out her free hand, palm up and waiting. Begrudgingly, I extend my arm outward for the centauress to examine.

The sooner this is over, the sooner I can see Caspian and eat something and go to sleep.

Starlock hums in contemplation, turning my wounded forearm over in her grasp. I've had enough stitches to know this one is too shallow to warrant any, despite the amount of dried blood staining my skin. The cut has already begun to clot and staunch the trickle of blood, but it still stings like acid when she commences her cleaning. I can't stop myself from flinching, muscles tensing in shock.

Starlock lifts her eyes to mine momentarily, her mouth set in an impassive line and her features neutral. It's not hard to convey my anger and annoyance through the silence, although she hardly seems fazed by it.

She returns her attention to my injury. "There was nothing to be done."

I scoff in disbelief. Nothing to be done. "About which part? Caspian? The witch? Her spell on me?"

"All of it," is her response. "It was preordained."

That's when everything falls into place. "You read it in the stars."

Why hadn't I seen it sooner? I know full well of the centaurs' stargazing ability, and the tendency of their readings to be as ambiguous and mystifying as procuring a prophecy in the ripples of a puddle. But that does not make them any less false. Glenstorm, a practiced gazer and prophet, saw the arrival of Tarva and Alambil for the truth they represented: that Caspian would win back the Narnians' freedom. Years ago in one of his countless teachings, he told me that it is not a language to be read or spoken, but one to interpret. I know there is no translation, but I can't stop myself from asking her.

"What did you see?"

Starlock shakes her head, plunging the cloth again into the bowl so whorls of pink and red lift from its surface and drift within the water. "The stars are far from explicit in their writings," she says. "Even I did not know exactly their meaning until now — after it had passed."

"But you knew."

"Yes." She swipes the damp cloth over my skin, revealing the cut and cleaning any dust or debris from it. Inch by inch, the blood is washed away. "I knew it was a chimæra who would be tested by a great evil," she continues. "Not when, how, nor why. And for that matter, it was decided by myself and Glenstorm not to worry you. It is no light matter: knowing such a vague and terrible truth about one's future with no way to avert it. You must understand this."

Somewhere in the reasonable part of my brain, I know I do. But I'm brimming with far too many emotions and fatigue to let myself brush off what happened so soon.

"Glenstorm had no doubts in your perseverance." She reaches for a smaller bowl on the table next to me, its contents a green-tinged paste.

Of course he didn't. "It's what he taught me," I reply. Nearly half my life has been spent training under Glenstorm alongside his sons: Rainstone, Suncloud, and Ironhoof. His lessons included everything from history and combat tactics to philosophy and Narnian culture. Without question, my sense of tenacity is attributed to him and his influence.

The centauress scoops a small portion of the herbal concoction with her fingers. "Our ancestors spent centuries perfecting this formula," she says, spreading it on and around my cut. "It has been used to treat war wounds since the start of the Telmarine Conquest."

It's cool and incredibly soothing on my skin, so her next words shock me.

"It will cause discomfort and itching," Starlock warns, cleaning her hands on an unsullied linen, "but will stave infection and heal faster than any salve. "

Wonderful, I think wryly. It's going to drive me mad.

She reads my expression in an instant. "It's not ideal, I know. But such results are not without inconvenience. You will come to appreciate it."

I almost can't stop myself from rolling my eyes. And I have to chant a silent reminder that even though my feelings toward her are far from pleasant, Starlock is a centauress and my elder; there is no excuse to neglect the respect she is due. So, I keep my mouth shut and sit as still as I can while she bandages my arm.

Her grey eyes move between me and her steady work, confused by my sudden silence. To my surprise, she actually smiles. Just a small one as she resumes her work, but it's real and there and I almost can't believe it.

What is there to smile about?

"If there's something you'd like to say," she muses, "do say it and stop worrying yourself with anger."

I scoff. "I'm not–"

"You are."

A frown works at my mouth, my fingers tightening around the edge of the table beneath me. Why is she so infuriating? Instead, I ask, "Is there anything else you know about me that I don't?"

She shakes her head, focused on tying off the end of my bandage. "I wish I had the answers to all your questions, but, much like the rest of your species, you happen to be a puzzle I cannot solve, chimæra." She pulls the knot tight and looks up at me with her startling, bright irises. "I wish you luck in finding the truth, however you may."

I hold her gaze for a moment, unsure of the sincerity of her statement. But there is no dishonesty in her eyes. There never has been.

I nod, lowering myself carefully to the ground. "Thank you."

Starlock returns the gesture and steps aside to clean her workspace in anticipation for her next patient.

Nyssa returns at this moment, and without sparing another second, I leave with her in search of Caspian. "Where is he?"

"The last cursed place I decided to look," she grumbles. "The archers' post outside the war room."

Considering his place of refuge in the castle was the western tower's peak, I'm not surprised that's where she found him.

"How bad?" I ask.

Nyssa chuffs. "Well, I don't know the prince as well as you, but he's not well, dear one."

I walk faster, my heart starting to beat erratically in my chest. Why did they have to drag me to the medbay? I pray to Aslan and all the stars that he doesn't hate me for what happened with the witch.

"Where are the rest of them?" I ask.

"High King Peter and Queen Susan are clearing out the mess at the Table, Queen Lucy is among the wounded in the medbay, and your King is still finding you something to eat, apparently."

That last part is almost enough to draw a smile from me.

"I'll track his majesty down after I've brought you to the prince," the cheetah offers.

I shake my head. "Don't worry about it. He'll find me."

Nyssa spares a glance upward at me, her eyes alight with amusement. A beat of silence passes before she speaks again. "I quite like that boy."

I smile. Me too.

━━━༻❁༺━━━

We find Caspian exactly where Nyssa promised he'd be: sitting on the stone ledge outside. Still clad in his armour, he's slouched forward and staring across the plains with a haunted look in his eyes. At first, I don't think he notices me sit down beside him. But then silent tears track down his cheeks and he tells me everything.

He starts with the raid and how Miraz admitted to murdering his father, how he blames himself for ruining the mission and leading the Narnians to a slaughter. He tells me how his anger clouded his senses and took over and how terrified he was that he couldn't save everyone like he promise — how he's still terrified. He tells me about Nikabrik coming to him and offering a solution, how he felt there was no other way to keep the Narnians safe from his uncle. He swears up and down to me he had no idea it involved Jadis and he tried everything he could to stop it. And when he tells me how scared he was to see me under her control I feel myself begin to break apart. And then it's my turn.

So I tell him what I know: Starlock's reading of the heavens; the witch by some sort of magic using me as a puppet; my connection with Edmund and how he pulled me from her spell; and even what little I remember from the dreams I've been having.

"I can't remember enough to make sense of them," I say. "There were stars and a pool and the apple trees and a woman with green skin and a broken…a broken something." I throw my hands up in frustration. "How can any of it mean something? How am I supposed to figure out…whatever I'm supposed to figure out?"

Caspian shakes his head, his voice hoarse and low. "I don't know"

Finished with our respective tirades, the two of us fall quiet and listen to the wind and the birds.

"How are we going to fight a war like this?"

I laugh incredulously and repeat his own words. "I don't know."

Sighing heavily, he leans back against the worn stone bricks. "I fear it's not possible," he mutters. "What if I'm not the one to save the Narnians?"

"Well," I lean myself back as well, draping my bandaged arm across my lap. "Do you want to be?"

His answer is immediate. "Of course I do."

"Then why are you letting yourself question it? There is no prophecy saying who won't or who will. It's a choice."

Caspian rubs his face tiredly, groaning into his hands. "I am not sure if I can," he says.

"You weren't sure Narnians existed, either."

He stares at me in a way that says that's different.

I smile and nudge his leg with my knee. "I know you're not on the best terms with Peter right now, but they're here to fight with you. All of us are here to fight. You're not alone with any of it."

He laughs a little. "You sound just like your father."

I turn my head just enough to look at him. "You know he's not actually my father…?"

"Yes yes, I know. It's just a habit to call him that." Cas meets my gaze, looking concerned. "Has he ever told you who they are?"

"My parents? No. Not really. He said they were old friends and the last of the chimæras anyone ever saw in Narnia."

The wind chills my feet and ruffles my skirt: the only sound between the two of us.

Caspian is the one to break the silence again. "You should ask him. Maybe he'll reveal more, now."

I frown, watching the trees across the plains for any sign of Telmarines. "Do you think he'd keep something like that from me?" In my peripheral, I catch him shrug.

"It's possible. He knew about my father all along."

My head whips around. "I'm so sorry about that," I say, launching into the apology I've been waiting years to tell him. "I wanted to tell you, but Cornelius stopped me and made me promise not to say anything he said–"

"Sefi, stop." Caspian cuts me off before I can go any further on my tangent. "I know — you would have told me if you could. Don't worry, it's fine."

"You know, this has been eating me up for years and you're not even going to let me finish?"

"Would you like to finish?"

"Well now I don't," I grumble. "Imbecile. You just ruined it."

Caspian, who's been trying to contain himself, finally gives in and starts laughing.

"Shut up." I shove his shoulder with a grin, making him wince in pain and quickly pull away.

"Oh," I grimace at the arrow wound I forgot about. "Sorry."

He shakes his head and gingerly places one hand over it. "It's fine. I should have had it dressed earlier."

I nearly punch him in the same spot. "You got that hours ago!" I cry. "You've been running around with an open arrow wound since last night!?"

His sheepish silence is enough to answer my question.

"Caspain! I know you're an idiot, but since when are you stupid!?"

"I have been a little bit busy!" He argues.

"Get up," I order, standing from my seat on the rocks. "You're going to the medbay." My words leave no room for argument.

Sighing dramatically, Caspian drags himself to his feet and trudges after me along the outer wall and back into the war room. I walked right past my sword when I was headed outside to find him earlier, so now I take the opportunity to grab it and buckle it back on. With its familiar weight across my hips and reassuring presence, I instantly feel more relaxed.

Caspian watches me with a knowing smirk pasted on his face and I'm prepared for an onslaught of teasing when I hear someone enter the room.

Simultaneously, we turn toward the entrance where Susan stands frozen. A bowl of water is held in her hands with what looks to be linen and bandages tucked under one arm.

Her eyes skip between us in surprise. "Sorry," she says. "I'll come back later–"

"No no, I was just leaving," I tell her, tightening my sword belt.

She hesitates, caught halfway between leaving and staying. "Are you sure? I don't mind at all." Her focus shifts to a stunned Caspian. "Lucy just told me you hadn't been to the medbay yet, so I figured you still needed proper treatment."

"Oh," is what the imbecile says in reponse. "Thank you, your majesty."

I try to convey to him through my eyes that he's being positively idiotic but he's too busy gawking at her to even notice. Fool.

"Yes, you'd be right," I tell the Queen, walking toward her to leave. "I will see you both later, I have to…" What do I have to do? Sleep?

Susan smiles, assuming I was going to say something about her brother. "Edmund is in the mess making up a plate for you."

"Still?"

She laughs. "Yes, he's being very particular. It's terribly sweet."

I can feel my face heating up so I turn and hurry through the door, making sure to send Caspian a look over my shoulder that says don't be stupid before leaving in search of somewhere to take a nap.

▬▬ι══════༻❁༺══════ι▬▬

author's note

(i know it's kinda long but please read for my explanation)

hey so it's been a minute lmao i know i said two weeks and i apologize immensely but fr this is the first day where i have no work and no school (canadian thanksgiving today) since my return to hell on earth. the transition from sitting on my ass for a whole year to starting a new job and my first year of university turned out to be a lot. zero to a hundred real mf quick lemme tell ya haha a bitch has got mad homework but ✨idc✨

okie dokie first things first i had to buy adobe photoshop for school so i took full advantage of it and made a bunch of shit, including some covers! i love them all and can't decide which to use so if you wanna help a girl out, head over to my wattpad or quotev account to view the cover options and let me know which one you think is the best!

alright now for the fun stuff! buckle in for the ride my dudes it's been a whole ass month since i updated y'all (these aren't important if y'all want to skip them)

numero uno: my job is kickass

fr i got so lucky with it. i'm now an instrcutor at a climbing gym so i get to wear leggings every day! i used to do tons of climbing but since quarantine i haven't been able to, so i'm pumped to get back into it. hopefully i'll get shredded while i'm at it lmao. the handful of people I work with are super cool and chill and one of them is SO CUTE HAHA. bro has a gf but its all good because I still get to appreciate the top half of his face and hang out with him during weekend shifts. he's the nicest person and so much fun to work with. tbh i didn't expect to enjoy this job so much since it's mostly dealing with kids but it's a good time! one of my precious students made me a rainbow loom bracelet and i've never felt so honoured lol

numba two: university really do be kicking my ass

yea so i'm in a design program because even tho my dream is to become a legitimate author, i had to go to school for something and making a career out of designing novel covers and movie posters seemed like a pretty sweet option. except i don't GET ANY options until year three so i'm stuck playing arts and crafts and taking drawing classes for two years. and the amount of homework in this program is aStRoNoMiCaL. i'm doing my best to juggle everything and find a balance but between school and work, I'm lucky if I have the time to write more than two sentences a day...

numba treee: summer is over and so is my tan. i am sad. not ready to scrape ice off my car at six am every morning to make it to school on time. send help.

so how do you guys feel about starlock after this chapter? hate her? like her? somewhere in the middle? i couldn't find much about the centaurs' stargazing abilities so i lowkey winged that part haha and i tried throwing in some suspian at the end to make up for the lack of edmund, hopefully it worked! i'm planning to focus the next chapter around arryn and edmund as much as i can!

i hope you guys enjoyed this overdue update, thank you so much for your patience!