No Lucy this time, sorry, but there will be more about what happened to her soon, so keep reading! This chapter has lots of information which will be incredibly important later-to all the various storylines.
7th, Greenroof, 1012-Second-day
"Peter! You look awful, are you quite well?" Susan studied her elder brother's disheveled appearance, pale face, and distinctly cross expression from where she stood, leaning against the door frame of his private study. He really did look as if he were becoming ill and her current annoyance with him faded slightly, though not entirely. Wonderful, she reflected, somewhat selfishly. First Lucy goes gallivanting off to the Lone Islands, and now if Peter's ill that leaves me to deal with the retinue of fools downstairs on my own. And where in Aslan's name is Edmund?
Peter scowled at her from his chair by the hearth. "Gracious as ever, Su. I'm quite well, thank you." He returned to scowling at the sooty hearth.
"Peter," she allowed her voice to take on a note of warning as she crossed the messy room gracefully to drop into the chair opposite him. "Avoidance is Edmund's tactic, not yours, and with good reason. By the way, have you seen Edmund this morning? He was supposed to be helping with the seating plan for tonight."
Peter stared at her blankly, but there was a quick flash of guilt in his eyes that she would have been blind not to notice. He was saved from answering, however, by the arrival of Brickle bearing a breakfast laden tray. The harried looking dwarf deposited it hastily on the low table and backed away, shooting Peter a nervous glance and bowing emphatically.
"Tea?" she asked, conversationally, momentarily forgetting her interrogative purpose in favour of her manners.
"Coffee; if there is any." He grinned sheepishly. "You know, I'm perfectly capable of coming down to breakfast. My shoulder is entirely better and my ankle nearly so-"
"Nonsense," Susan interrupted brusquely, passing him a cup of coffee and helping herself to tea. "If you were to fall and break your neck on the way to breakfast you would be unable to attend this dratted banquet tonight. Besides, you never answered my question; have you seen Edmund?"
"Not since yesterday," Peter offered meekly with the same flash of guilt.
Susan paused, hand poised in the midst of reaching for the little pitcher of cream, and raised her eyebrows. "No?" she asked conversationally. "But I suppose you know where he's run off to and are helping him hide from me and looming seating plans?"
"He hasn't run off," Peter protested as he sipped his coffee cautiously, grimaced, and immediately reached for the sugar. "And I'm not precisely certain of where he is. I'll help with the seating plan if you're so bothered about it."
He was definitely avoiding telling her something very important, and Susan huffed in annoyance. He doesn't know precisely where Edmund is but is entirely unconcerned? Historically that could be taken to mean Edmund had vanished on one of his more underhanded missions with Peter's knowledge, if not consent.
It never ceased to frustrate Susan that her younger brother failed to see the necessity of bidding her farewell. When she had confronted him about that very circumstance some years previously, he had merely shrugged and assured her that his tendency to slip away unannounced did not spring from a lack of care. Lucy had later offered a characteristically insightful statement on the matter, reminding her that Edmund always refused to bid anyone a proper farewell and confiding what she had surmised herself.
"I really do think he refuses to say goodbye on the grounds that doing so allows for the possibility of his not returning." At the time Susan had nearly scoffed at the idea-after all, it had only been the third year of their reign and understanding Edmund had still seemed a nearly insurmountable task to her. Now she was reluctantly forced to admit Lucy had likely been right.
"I'm sure he'll have a grand time," Peter was saying, and Susan realised wearily that she had entirely missed the first part of his statement.
"Have a grand time where?" She was reluctant to admit her lapse in attention, knowing it would prompt the worried frown that was now directed at her, courtesy of her elder brother.
"Are you all right, Su?" The question seemed rather ridiculous, especially given that Peter himself was looking unusually drawn, and she quite correctly suspected he had not slept the previous night.
"Entertaining suitors is rather more difficult than you seem to comprehend, dear brother." She hoped her voice conveyed amusement rather than her steadily growing annoyance, but really, she was far too tired to be certain. And how could he be expected to understand? she chided herself silently. Peter was not the type of vainly self-serving royal who spent his days pursuing hapless females from neighbouring countries, and would have sooner died than engaged in some of the more ludicrous behaviour displayed by Susan's more persistent suitors-past and present.
"I know, and I really ought to be more helpful." He hung his head, looking distinctly guilty as he stared down at the murky liquid (which by this point could barely be deemed coffee) in his cup. "Hang it all Susan, can't we just send this latest collection of popinjays packing and have done with it?" His infamous temper was obviously rising, brushing aside the milder display of brotherly guilt.
"No, we most certainly cannot," she replied brusquely, casting her mind back in search of their original topic. Ah yes, Edmund. "And don't change the subject. I do not appreciate being deliberately omitted from your plans, and would prefer to be consulted before you see fit to send both our brother and sister into danger."
"Ah, well," he swirled his coffee dubiously, refusing to meet her eyes. Susan sighed and tried to compose her expression into one which would appear less furious. She had seen her brother face charging Minotaurs and forty-foot giants with less display of nervousness than her scowls were met with.
"Well?' she prompted when further speech was not forthcoming-she even managed a smile though Peter did not seem to see it.
"You were busy," he offered miserably.
Busy? Well, she supposed it was true. Entertaining three separate suitors and their retinues while attempting to keep anyone from being disemboweled was no easy task-especially without the added advantage her brothers usually provided by appearing, fully armed and indignant, at the slightest sign of trouble.
"And, while I may not fully understand the subtleties of preserving the lives and dignities-do they have dignities?-of your assorted guests, I can appreciate that it must be a very difficult task. I really didn't want to trouble you." He gave her a look which was a dangerously close approximation of Lucy's innocently pleading expression when asking forgiveness, and Susan had to smile at it.
"Still, you might have told me." She wasn't entirely willing to let Peter off so easily, especially when he hadn't actually told her anything. "Where did Edmund go and why the sudden trip to the Lone Islands for Lucy?"
He attempted to reach for a fifth-or was it sixth?-cube of sugar and Susan quickly snatched the little dish out of his reach. "That is a disgusting amount of sugar! You'll make yourself sick! Just drink your coffee, which you asked for and therefore have no right to complain about, and answer my questions."
He looked longingly at the sugar bowl, took a sip of his coffee and grimaced. "I still don't understand how Ed drinks this; it's disgusting!" He set the cup aside, still grimacing and met her eyes at last, flinching slightly as her expression darkened again.
"Simply put? The council of Narrowhaven is pushing for the Islands' secession and Lucy is there to ensure they don't succeed; her guards are there to apprehend the guilty parties." He scowled into the hearth again, fingers drumming against the arm of his chair. "Athelstan has been worried about something of this sort for quite some time, and I fear I've kept putting him off. The giants have been making things difficult enough and I was reluctant to formally acknowledge the threat of civil war. I've been a fool," he acknowledged calmly, still scowling.
Susan blinked, dumbfounded. "It's really as bad as all that?" Have I truly been so distracted by my own troubles that I have missed something of such import?
"Edmund fears it is a good deal worse, and I am regrettably inclined to agree with him. The council threatens civil war if they attempt to secede, but the people are a greater threat than a few overfed lords if they decide to back the movement. Ed's gone off to Narrowhaven as well as Lucy, via Calormen though, and not officially. It's no use putting down the council's plots without first determining the mood of the people themselves, and Edmund is the only one I trust to give an accurate accounting."
Calormen? Alone? Surely not after the Incident last time he was there. Peter's eyebrows furrowed; he was obviously also thinking of the Incident that neither of them ever spoke of-the details of which they both fervently hoped Edmund remained unaware of. "You think Calormen is behind this somehow?" she asked quickly, trying to hide her worry.
Peter shrugged. "They are nearly always involved in political intrigue of some sort. We would be lax to not at least investigate. And, I didn't send him alone, Su; Peridan is with him. I know," he added quickly in response to her skeptical expression. "It is certainly not ideal, and I would have gone myself…" he shrugged ruefully, glared at his ankle, and ran a distracted hand through his hair. "Still," he added more confidently with a reassuring smile. "With luck, and Aslan's grace, no one from the Palace will even know he's there."
With luck; but when has luck ever sided with Edmund? Aslan, guard him I beg you, I have no desire to entrust my brother's life to luck. There was nothing else for it but to trust his safety to Aslan and hope Peridan proved more capable than Susan had credited him with being.
She smiled to match Peter in forced confidence and stood to gather up the breakfast tray. "Well then," she said briskly, brushing away the more troublesome of her thoughts. "I suppose we will simply have to make do on our own for a few weeks. Perhaps you would be so kind as to fulfill your earlier offer of organizing the seating plan for tonight?"
Peter groaned, saluted her with his coffee cup before draining the tepid liquid in a long draught, and groaning again at the taste. "If I must, after all, a knight's word is his bond."
She smiled obligingly at his attempt to distract her from her worries and left the room somewhat hurriedly, shoving the breakfast tray at the nearest guard as she did so. As Susan darted down the stairs she was already formulating a plan she was certain neither of her brothers would approve of.
Sallowpad the Raven was perching in one of the oak trees that bordered the training yard, staring down on Orieus and a troupe of Centaurs who were drilling there with clever, beady eyes. As Susan approached, he glanced her way briefly before returning to his scrutiny of the soldiers, utterly unconcerned with both her presence and the manner in which he ought to greet her.
"Good morrow, Sallowpad," she called up to him, slightly breathless from the speed at which she had approached the training yard. Sallowpad ruffled his inky feathers and said nothing. Ravens were known to be proud and unsociable creatures and finding one at Cair Paravel would have been unusual had it not been for their strange, disconcerting loyalty to Edmund. It was upon this loyalty that Susan now found herself relying.
"I have a favour to beg of you, my good Raven," Susan continued, despite his earlier lack of response.
He turned his scrutinising gaze on her and tilted his head to one side. "A favour, your majesty? Not an order?"
Susan took a moment to collect her wits and rearrange her face into the carefully gracious expression she used on formal occasions. Such was her armour, and it was constructed as a mask to hide the true turmoil of her heart. She was a queen above all else, and it simply would not do for a queen to show uncertainty or fear before her subjects.
"I would rather it did not have to be an order," she answered calmly. "It is concerning King Edmund," she continued when he once more did not vocalise a response. "He has gone to Tashbaan, and from there means to sail for Narrowhaven."
The Raven croaked in a strange approximation of a laugh before ruffling his glossy black feathers and diving gracefully from the tree branch to land heavily on her shoulder.
"You wish me to go after him," he stated simply, taloned feet digging slightly into her skin.
"Yes, if you would be so kind." She really wished he hadn't chosen her shoulder as his perch; she could not see his reaction without turning her head noticeably, and it is scarcely ever pleasant to speak to something you cannot see.
"Kindness, oh queen, has nothing to do with it," he remarked cryptically, the talons tightening their hold. "Why do you wish this of me? Surely you do not believe your brother so incapable as to require constant supervision?"
Ravens were most definitely not known for either their manners or their tact, and Susan was beginning to wish Sallowpad had garnered at least a modicum of polite behaviour from his time at court. She was not a proponent of the fawning behaviour shown by Calormene courtiers, or even a few of King Lune's advisers, but the Raven's current manner was bordering on insubordinate.
"My good Sallowpad, I do not wish to send you after King Edmund due to any doubts I have about his capability, however, there are threats to his well being in Tashbaan which he has not been made aware of. I merely wish you to watch over him and guard him from those dangers he is uninformed about." Susan often found that the more frustrated and worried she became the more words she used to express her points.
Sallowpad released her shoulder and swooped to the ground where he once again tilted his head to one side and peered up at her. "An old fox does not easily place his foot within the snare," he croaked sagely. "So goes the proverb. Is not your royal brother an old fox?"
Susan nodded, conceding the point, though she rather wondered if Edmund would find it entirely flattering that he was being likened to an "old" fox. "Most assuredly, good cousin, however, even a fox may fall into a snare he has no way of detecting. There is a certain Tarkaan in Tashbaan, an adviser to the Tisroc, who wishes our King grave harm. It matters not why the High King, and myself, saw fit to keep this knowledge from King Edmund, but suffice it to say the inconvenience and danger posed should they meet would be great."
Sallowpad croaked out his harsh laughter a second time. "Forgive me, my queen," he managed to grate out at last, though he appeared not at all penitent. "But every Tarkaan, prince, courtier, and bastard noble in Tashbaan would wish his majesty's imminent and unpleasant demise. Would you have me guard him against all these?"
"Nay, Sallowpad, those he can guard against himself with Aslan's kind Grace." I hope. "The fellow I would have you regard with special care is one Obridesh Tarkaan, son of Obresh Tarkaan, and royal advisor to the Tisroc." She utterly refused to add the traditional qualifier "may he live forever", but also valued her dignity enough not to mock it by a deprecating remark of her own invention (as her brothers were wont to do).
"Obridesh?" The Raven repeated, mirth fading as he shuffled his wings in an avian shudder. "That one reeks of evil and decay. Your majesty, I will fly at once, and with a good will, if it is to protect my king from such a one as he."
"May your flight be swift, and Aslan's Grace go with you cousin," she said, raising her hand in the traditional gesture of blessing. "Use caution, my good Raven, lest you be seen by unfriendly eyes; show yourself only in the presence of Peridan and my royal brother."
The Raven croaked with an indignant intonation as he flared his wings in preparation for flight. "I am no nestling! I am better versed in stealth than you." And with that he was gone, winging upward on swift and silent wings. Susan watched him go with a feeling of growing dread she would only allow herself to acknowledge once Sallowpad had become a distant dot of ink on the horizon.
What manner of person can elicit such a reaction from a Raven of all creatures? Susan wondered, aghast. Certainly, Obridesh had seemed distasteful in the extreme and she had thought him dangerous, but evil? I should feel reassured that he goes to Edmund's aid, she chided herself, but the Raven's words troubled her enough to allay any relief she might otherwise have felt.
Despite Peter's best efforts with the seating plan for the feast, and Susan's own most gracious behaviour, a fistfight very nearly erupted when Tarkaan Areesh, her Calormene suitor, was seated to her right and Duke Tirnan, her Telmarine suitor was seated to her left (by his own request Gale, the Galman lord was seated halfway down the table to her left and was happily engaging in conversation with Metelus, Edmund's old tutor). Neither had actually been seated next to her, Peter had seen to it that he sat immediately to her right, and (in Edmund's absence) Orieus occupied the space directly to her left. Nevertheless, Duke Tirnan seemed to believe the arrangements showed more favour towards Tarkaan Areesh's suit than his own.
Violence was only narrowly avoided when the Tarkaan's sister (a delicate creature who seemed to favour transparency in her clothing rather than practicality) screamed meaningfully and fainted dead away. Hostilities were interrupted by the necessity of the girl being carried back to her chambers while Areesh provided his most heartfelt-and blatantly counterfeit-display of dismay at his sister's sudden collapse.
Privately, Susan blamed the girl's lack of adequate clothing, for the night must have been quite chilly in comparison with the heat in Calormen, and her already excitable temperament for the Tarkeena's rapid decline in health. Peter barely managed to conceal his annoyed expression at such a display by vanishing behind his wine goblet, and Orieus remained stoically composed and dignified as always (though Susan thought she heard the faintest hint of a sigh emanating from between his impassive lips).
The Duke seemed to forget his desire to mar the Tarkaan's countenance when it became apparent that no further favour had been awarded the Calormen and he was now given the added disadvantage of his sister creating a spectacle. The Telmarine smiled icily at Susan over the rim of his goblet, and she had no choice but to return the expression with more warmth than she could muster the sincerity to back. If only they could behave with decorum, rather than quarreling like schoolboys!
She smiled in Peter's direction, hoping he would see through the façade of polite hostess to the annoyance she so carefully hid from her guests at their behaviour. Peter, however, was engaged in listening graciously to Areesh's somewhat petulant apologies-and in reaching for the wine flask. Bother! She tried again to catch his eyes, and failing that, motioned quickly and discretely to the Birch Dryad who hovered solicitously near the High King's elbow.
The nymph dropped a quick curtsey and unobtrusively collected the half full flask before disappearing through a side door. Susan allowed herself a moment to feel relieved that her own foresight in arranging the signal had proved worthwhile. For all his chivalry Peter possessed the rather unfortunate habit of absentmindedly filling his goblet with whatever happened to be nearest him. If that happened to be one of the stronger varieties of Narnian wine, then he would quite probably- and had frequently done so before Susan devised a solution-end the night slumped face first in his pudding. That particular spectacle was one Susan could quite happily do without.
A few moments later the Dryad slipped back into the hall, carrying a silver coffee pot which she deposited in the space left by the wine flask. Peter nodded politely in response to the Tarkaan's latest groveling statement and distractedly refilled his goblet with strong, black coffee. Susan nearly felt sorry for him when a moment later he was obliged to retain a gracious expression while attempting not choke.
I really must find time to think Jala for being so helpful, Susan reminded simply would not have done for the Queen of Narnia to be observed interfering in her brother's affairs directly.
Once he seemed to have recovered sufficiently, Peter at last caught her eye and nodded in response to her silent plea for his assistance. He stood somewhat unsteadily (more due to his injured ankle than the wine), and raised his coffee filled goblet.
"Dear friends, Narnians, and esteemed guests," all noise died down immediately as every eye turned towards him. Even injured and bordering on drunk there was no one who could capture the attention of a room quite so quickly and completely (Susan stubbornly did not allow herself to feel jealous on that count). "We thank you for your delightful company, but on behalf of myself and my royal sister we must beg your indulgence and bid you all goodnight." The collective and nearly stifled groans quickly died out as he continued, "It would greatly please us, however, if you would avail yourselves of our hospitality for as long as is proper, for indeed, the night is still young."
A low cheer rose in response to these words as everyone in the hall rose to their feet, paws, or hooves in respect for their rulers as both Susan and Peter happily made good on their escape. When the gilded doors swung closed behind them Susan at last allowed herself to breathe a sigh of relief. Peter glared at her, obviously still cross about the coffee.
"Was that really necessary, Su?" he demanded, keeping his voice low.
"Would you prefer a headache in the morning?" I am far too tired for this. "Please Peter, if you are disposed to be quarrelsome perhaps it can wait till morn?"
Peter nodded, immediately appearing abashed and kissed her on the cheek. "By that time I will have long since ceased to be cross," he admitted with a smile. "Sleep well Susan." She watched him limp in the direction of the library, so exhausted that she barely spared a moment to wonder why he was not going to his chambers instead, before turning her own dragging footsteps towards her bed.
It might have been hours or minutes later (she did not even remember reaching her rooms and falling asleep) when Susan found herself most rudely awakened by the sound of something, or rather, someone, falling through the window and onto the floor of her bedchamber. She bolted upright in bed, clutching the thin sheet around her throat and suddenly feeling very aware of just how revealing her light summer night dress actually was. Mind still muddled by sleep, she blinked blearily at the shadowy shape now looming before the window. It had not occurred to her that she ought to scream and her mind was not yet fully awake enough for her to be frightened, in fact, she felt rather more annoyance than anything else.
"Just what do you think you're doing?" she demanded of her enterprising visitor with as much hauteur as anyone can manage upon first waking.
A flint sparked and the candle next to her bed was lit before Tarkaan Areesh dropped lightly onto the foot of her bed to meet her eyes with an adoring gaze.
"At last, most fair and virtuous queen, we are alone."
Still less afraid than she felt she ought to be, Susan edged further away from him. Afraid or not she did not like the appraising look in his dark eyes. "How did you get in here?" She knew perfectly well how, but after all, it was impolite to make assumptions.
"Through the window, my desert flower. Your guards were most insistent not to let me pass." He regarded her petulantly, as if some offense had been given to his honour and Susan was seized by the absurd desire to laugh.
"Then you would be wise to leave in the same manner, my lord. I bid you goodnight." I really must start stationing gryphons or eagles outside my window when suitors come calling. The situation she currently found herself in was not as uncommon as might have been wished and perhaps it was that which accounted for her lack of fear.
"Your majesty is most gracious and lovely. Hath not one of the poets said "a cautious woman is gift from the gods"? But, my most gentle lady, you need have no fear your brother will discover us. Your most royal and fearful king is otherwise engaged himself and cannot harm you for your indiscretion." He laughed, rather unpleasantly and shifted until he was sitting halfway up the bed, still staring at her with an expression that was half adoration and half cold appraisal.
"It is not I you should concern yourself for," she replied icily, wishing that she slept with a dagger close at hand as Lucy did.
He blinked, looking bewildered for a moment, before deciding to blatantly misunderstand her meaning and leaning forward as if to kiss her. Susan did the only thing she reasonably could have done in such a situation and slashed him across the face with the nails of her right hand. The Tarkaan howled and jerked back, clutching his bleeding cheek with an expression more wounded than his face.
"Fair queen-" he began to protest, but Susan was quite through with his antics.
"Get out-through the window if you wish to retain some semblance of honour, through the door if you feel greater haste is desirable." She fixed him with a look she hoped was sufficiently venomous and found, much to her relief, that it was.
The Tarkaan slipped off the bed with a muttered oath and slunk, skulking to the door. Once he was outside she heard the muffled challenge from her guards and then the clatter of hooves as the Centaur on duty escorted her would be lover back to his own chambers.
At last she allowed herself to breathe a sigh of relief as she stood and pulled on her dressing gown over her night dress. The Tarkaan had claimed Peter to be 'otherwise engaged'; well, that was all he knew.
Some men know how to behave as befits a knight, Susan reflected smugly as she slipped past her guards with a reassuring nod. She was quite certain whatever the Tarkaan had assumed was ridiculously incorrect and was not disappointed when, upon entering the corridor where Peter's rooms were located she heard the loud crash of a heavy door being opened with nearly enough force to tear it from its hinges. Susan rounded the corner just in time to see Peter, looking thoroughly put out and more than a little disheveled, emerge from the room holding Tarkaan Areesh's furious sister firmly by the arm. Once outside the door he released her with a look of disgust, glared meaningfully at his guards, and disappeared back through the door.
"And stay out!" She heard him demand emphatically as the door swung shut after him.
The Tarkeena, whose name Susan found she could not presently recall, glared defiantly at Trebonius, the satyr captain who graciously offered to escort her back to her chambers, and stormed away, wrapping her flimsy and ineffective shawl more firmly around her shoulders.
Susan waited until she was out of sight before allowing her carefully repressed laughter to escape. The Tarkeena (who very clearly thought herself more than capable of distracting Narnia's High King) had failed to realise one, monumental fact. Above all else Peter was a knight, a gentleman, and entirely honourable.
Trebonius seemed to share her amusement and his lips twitched as she brushed past him to rap lightly on the very solidly bolted door.
"Trebonius! Kindly escort the Tarkeena back to her rooms! And, of your courtesy, find her something more suitable to wear!" Though muffled by the solid oak Peter's voice had lost none of its righteous indignation.
Susan allowed herself one final chuckle before forcing her face into a more composed expression and knocking again.
"I said, STAY OUT!" The door was pulled open quite unexpectedly and Susan, who had been half leaning against the frame, nearly lost her balance. Peter glowered ferociously for a moment before he blinked, recognised her, and retreated with an annoyed huff.
"Are all ladies barred from your rooms, High King, or might your sister be permitted entrance?" she asked sweetly.
Peter, appearing slightly embarrassed, shrugged and closed the door after her. "Sorry about that Susan. I expect you saw what happened?"
"Saw, and heard," she agreed as she sank wearily onto the foot of his bed, amusement forgotten as her exhaustion and annoyance returned. "In fact, I would surmise the entire castle heard, or will have done by morning."
Peter ran a hand through his already disheveled hair and threw himself down on the bed with an annoyed groan. "I found her here when I came up from the library a few minutes ago, apparently she slipped in after fainting at the banquet. What an infernal nuisance!"
Susan felt her lips twitch in a smile at his petulant tone. "You know, Peter, I can think of a good many other young men who would find such acts flattering and welcome, rather than annoying."
He opened one eye to glare at her before his frown became one of worry. "And you? If you saw what happened, then you were already out of bed before I started shouting. You haven't been in the kitchens pestering Cook again have you?" His expression became somewhat desperate. "Last time you interfered with how she runs her kitchen the tea was cold, and we had nothing but vegetables for a week!"
"You're worse than Edmund when it comes to complaining about food," she scolded, happy to delay what she knew was going to be a very explosive display of temper for as long as possible. "I was already out of bed," she said slowly, "because the Tarkeena's brother saw fit to climb through my window with the intention of tendering his courtship in a more private setting."
Hmm...I doubt Peter will be happy to read that! Special thanks to my beta reader, PaintingMusic14, for once again making this presentable.
Also, I realised I've been terrible about responding to guest reviews-really sorry about that!
YAS girlll: Thank you! I hope you are still enjoying this story :-)
Narnia Girl: Peter and Edmund stories are my favourite to write, and read :-) I will attempt to keep updating early or on time-it is very nice to be appreciated :-D
Aslan's Daughter: Here's your update! Glad you are enjoying so far :-)
Cheers,
A
