Cuore is Italian for heart, it is what Lena calls Edmund. The full phrase would be "cuore mio" which translates to "My heart/ heart of mine."

Chapter 5

Lena knew she could get King Edmund to agree to a duel. After all, Cuore never passed up the chance.

1948, London

Lena walked into the dank and musty room and wrinkled her nose. It smelled of dirty socks and sweat. There were a few flimsy mats lying in a grid pattern on the tiled floor and two chairs. Little King was already there.

"Are you ready for your first lesson?" he asked.

"Wait, you're training me? But you're…"

"The best swordsman in Narnia."

"We're not in Narnia."

"That has no relevance." He shrugged dismissively. "Look, the other handlers all use firearms. They're loud and hard to conceal. I'm specialized in bladed arms, some of which can be sharp enough to kill and small enough to carry in a handbag."

"Kill?"

"You won't be learning anything that extreme. We're just going to cover some simple defensive techniques. Here, I brought two practice knives of similar shape and size to yours." He reached in his bag and pulled out the two wooden knives. As he handed Lena one of them, she thought he looked far too excited at the prospect of teaching her how to fight.

Narnia

The sound of slapping polearms rang through the training grounds until Lena got her first hit.

"That's one," she said, stating the obvious. King Edmund remained silent.

They circled each other twice before beginning again. Wolf and Hound kept watch on the outside. They went slightly longer before Lena taped behind his left thigh.

"Two. It isn't any fun if you don't try, Little King."

King Edmund bristled at bit at the use of the nickname, but he remained silent. They fought much longer the third time before Lena got yet another hit. She sighed heavily. Lena knew he was better than this. They started again and again Lena got the hit.

"If you didn't want to duel, then you shouldn't have accepted the challenge. Now you've wasted my time and yours, time I could have been spending with our daughters."

"You are right," King Edmund said, breaking his silent spell. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have accepted, but…since I did, you've only got one more hit left. Let's finish it. It will satisfy my compulsion to see things through if nothing else."

Lena gave a short nod of consent. Their duel changed drastically after that. King Edmund's strikes came harder, faster. He fought more like Cuore, except Cuore never would have held back in the beginning only to show off in the end. Cuore would have trusted Lena to hold her own.

His strike slipped past her defenses, and he gained his first hit.

"All right," she said, rolling out her shoulder. "As agreed, you can ask me any question and I will answer honestly."

"Why should I believe you? What proof do you have?"

"That's two questions; choose one." Lena gave a small grin.

"What proof do you have that would suggest that anything you say is true?"

"Proof? You mean, other than the simple fact that I'm standing here, in Narnia—a place I never thought, nor ever wanted to see again—or the fact that Sara even exists? I have none. Any 'proof' I might offer would have no relevance to you as it has not occurred in your life yet."

"Answers like that aren't going to convince me of your identity," King Edmund said, his temper thinning.

"I didn't promise conviction, Little King. I promised honesty."

He bristled at the use of that nickname again, so did his Wolf. "That is thrice now," she said in a low growl.

"Nalsa," King Edmund warned.

"If you do not, my King, then I will."

Edmund sighed before turning his attention back to Lena. "That is the third time you have called me little king, and my guard takes offense."

"Because it is offensive," the Wolf said. "You will address His Majesty by the appropriate title."

"With all respect," Lena said a little tightly, "but I will not. I hold true to the promise made to me upon my wedding day that I would never have to bow, grovel, or pledge fealty to a Narnian King again, nor address him as such."

"And who made you this promise?" King Edmund asked.

"Your brother. Peter swore it upon his honor. No. He swore it upon the High King's honor, and you backed him on it."

There was a moment of intense silence, during which Lena thought he'd walk away or have his Wolf attack. She wasn't sure which was more likely, but she wasn't backing down either. Then he waved down his Wolf and took up his polearm again. Their duel resumed. It was a true duel too, not a sham like in the beginning, and he quickly got his second hit.

"You're flustered which makes you easily distracted," he said.

"That's a statement, not a question."

King Edmund was silent a moment as he thought or rather as he studied Lena; he already knew which questions he was going to ask.

"What do you do in the other place, you and…the other me?" He said the last part with reluctance. It wasn't an admittance of acceptance but of the possibility. It was a start.

"Whatever we like," Lena replied. "We're—what's the word—retired. You do some private contracting for the Crown as you see fit. They keep trying to pull you back in full time, but you refuse. We live off the hefty payments you receive. But mostly you spend time with your family, with me, with the girls. We used to travel, but we haven't done much of that in the last year."

"What does he do for the Crown?"

"Ah. That's another question." Lena smiled

King Edmund tapped her leg with his polearm playfully. "And that's a hit. What does he do for the Crown?"

Lena returned his grin with one of her own. "I don't know; I don't ask. But, I imagine it's along the same lines as what we did together when we worked for the Secret Intelligence Service, only there's less action more reading classified documents."

The duel resumed. Lena could tell by the twitch in King Edmund's left cheek that he was beginning to enjoy the duel. Lena may-or may not have let him get his next question.

"How did you meet?"

"Ah…a tricky question. We saw each other once but never spoke directly. Then, a few years later there we were again, in sweet Paris," Lena said switching to a French accent. "I was singing in a jazz bar. You came to recruit me for the Crown. I said no. You were annoyingly persistent."

"That sounds about right," said a voice from off to the side.

"Lady Bea!" Edmund said in shock.

"Keep saying things like that, Lady Hound, and I may begin to acutally like you," Lena said.

"An equally frightening thought for me as well, Lady Ileana," the Hound replied.

Lena grnned at the Hound and Edmund watched the exchange with noted curiosity. Then Lena turned back to Edmund. "More?" she asked.

"More," he agreed.

He was definitely having fun with this now. He even let a few laughs escape and a teasing taunt here and there as their pace quickened. There were a few more hits with more questions and answers, and there were a few near misses, and a few calls that were too close to tell. There was a spark, a light in his eyes that reminded Lena so very much of Cuore. Her grip slipped; his polearm slapping against her hand caused a mighty sting and elicited a few very un-ladylike words. King Edmund cursed too and went over to check on her.

"I am sorry; are you all right?" He took her hand before she could think anything of it. He examined it tenderly with his fingers. "It will leave a welt but nothing's broken." He flipped her hand over and noticed a long scar that ran across her palm. "What happened here?"

He looked up at her as his thumb traced the scar. Lena felt an odd stirring in her chest, and the fragments of a memory she'd rather forget. She pulled her hand from his.

"It's nothing," she said. She walked around him to pick up her fallen polearm.

"I—I'm sorry." There was a strange tone to his voice she'd never heard before.

"*Sto bene," she said. "I'm fine. It's just been a while since I've trained this long this hard."

"You fight well."

"I was trained well," Lena replied. "But you have a question." She put on her best smile as she turned to face him. If he could see through her smile, it didn't show. Cuore always could, but could King Edmund? He returned her smile with one of his own, and it made her wonder: could she still see through his?

"You're right, I am owed a question. I best make it a good one then, a final one…for now. Let's see…well, it's not exactly a question but it requires honesty all the same. Name a detail about me that's so intimate only a wife would know."

"An intimate detail, huh?" Several details concerning her and Cuore's intimate life came to mind, some of which still made the blood rush to her cheeks. But there was one in particular she thought would work. "All right, I've seen your birthmark up close and personal."

"My sleeve has been torn so many times, everyone has seen my birthmark."

Lena shook her head and smiled coyly. "I'm not talking about the tiny spot on your elbow. I'm talking about the larger one that's shaped like the island of Sicily located on the inner curve of your right thigh, right by your…"

"Ehem," he coughed, his cheeks slightly red. "Yes, I get the picture."

Lena didn't realize how close they'd suddenly gotten again until King Edmund stepped back. Who had approached whom? She wondered.

"Still, any former lover could have betrayed my trust and told you that," he said.

Ouch! Lena flinched but tried to conceal it. "Yes," she said coldly. "I am aware that I wasn't your first, and you clearly weren't mine." She wanted to throw his gut-punch back harder, but she restrained herself. "A detail only a wife—only your wife would know…"

What could she possibly tell King Edmund that would have any significance to him? Lena was at a loss.

"That's what I thought," he said, the cold unfamiliarity seeping back in. "I am, truly, sorry about the hand. You should have Willa, the Dryad in the Healer's tower, look at it just to be sure. In the meantime, Lady Ileana, do not presume to be so familiar with me again." With that, he turned on his heel and began walking away.

"I know the truth about Jadis and the hillside!" Lena shouted in desperation.

"What was that?" he asked, pausing and looking over his shoulder. Bea and Nalsa stirred, their ears twitching.

"I—I know the truth about Jadis, the White Witch she was called."

"Yeah, I know who she was," he said heatedly. "What do you know about her?"

"I know what happened with her. I know what you did. I know why you did it, why you really did it. I know what it cost you to repent. And I… I know what Aslan said to you on that hillside when you came back."

"That's…that's not possible," he denied simply. "I've never told anyone that."

"But you told me, or rather…you will tell me."

"How? Why? Did you force it out of me? How do I know you're not lying now?" He was getting quite angry now, and his distrust brought the prick of tears to Lena's eyes.

"I do not detect dishonesty, your Majesty," Bea said, stepping forward.

"Nor I, my King," Nalsa added.

"I can prove it," Lena said, wiping away a tear. "I can repeat it if you want me to."

"No!" He looked quickly over his shoulders at the Narnians. "Stand back, both of you," he ordered.

"My King, it isn't right to…"

"Stand back, Nalsa. That is a direct order, and do not listen in."

Even still, the Narnians were hesitant to leave.

"Whisper it to me, softly," he said once they were well enough away. And so she did. He stumbled away from her and the Wolf and Hound rushed with snarling growls thinking she had attacked. King Edmund stopped them quickly with a hand.

"How? Why?" he asked again.

"Oh, well, uh…" She did not think this revelation would generate this type of reaction. "It was a very…intense night," she began delicately. "It involved a bottle of bourbon—the good stuff not the brown water we'd had before—and lots of yelling and shouting, mostly on my part; you hardly ever shout. It didn't take much in those early days for us to fight; we were volatile. Correction, I was volatile."

"I could see that," King Edmund said coolly.

Lena bit back her tears. "See, what…You have to understand something about me first." She paused to get her thoughts and emotions in check; this was going to dredge up some painful memories she realized.

"I...I wasn't the best person when you met me. I'd cozy up to random guys in the alley behind the bar, take small trinkets from them, and sell them off later. I was a girl of limited means, uneducated except in the ways of men. I knew how to get what I wanted without giving them what they wanted. And I was good, oh I was very good.

"Our job was to get information which we always did, but you didn't always approve of my methods. We often fought about it. Somehow, that night, the fight turned to Meri, and I…" Tears pricked at the corners of Lena's eyes that she couldn't fight off. "I remember shouting the words 'she's my daughter.' It… it was the first time I'd said them aloud. You were the first person I told because up until then I claimed she was my sister because…because I was ashamed. Ashamed of what I was, ashamed of what I'd done.

"But mostly I…I was ashamed of her," Lena confessed. "And that…that was the hardest thing I'd ever done. She was my greatest hope, my biggest joy…and my worst shame. So you…you shared yours. You told me about Jadis and the hillside to…relate to me, to make me see I wasn't alone, to be free of it yourself? I don't really know why, but you did. The…the dynamic changed between us that night. I certainly didn't love you yet, but I…I hated you a little less."

Lena paused and studied his face. She searched for any sign, any whisper, anything that might indicate that something had struck a bell with him, that somehow the memories she shared had transferred to him and that they were now his memories too. But there was only a blank emptiness in his eyes as he looked back at her.

"And now…here we stand. My husband of six years but I'm nothing more than a stranger in your eyes." Lena stepped away from him this time. "You're…you're not him. You are not Cuore; you're not my husband here. I'm sorry to have wasted your time."

Lena fled the training ground in a haze of tears she tried to restrain. Who was the scemo più scemo now? She knew he wouldn't know her. Peter and Susan didn't, so why should he? And yet, some small part of her held on to the hope that their love was different, that their love was so transcending that his heart would know hers anywhere.

But it wasn't and it didn't. Lena was nothing more than a stranger to him.

*Translations

Sto bene: I'm fine.