A/N: Fun fact, the song for this chapter is a little easter egg for this fic's old title when it was still a truly terrible mishmosh of words collecting dust on my hard drive. Comment if you figure out which one I mean... if you've been around since my TDWAP or Moonrose days, you probably saw me mention it. ;)

Chapter 10 Content Warnings: N/A

Chapter 10: wondering down this road alone

Caspian

The unfortunate side effect of a compromised night's sleep is that Caspian is barely awake by the time the sun sets. Addie doesn't finish in the kitchen for hours yet, but he can't stand the thought of not seeing her again - even just for a simple night reading together. No matter how many times he sees her, it's never quite enough.

Thoughts of Addie aside, the stars dance and he hasn't memorised their spring patterns. So Caspian plants himself in his chair and hunches over the astronomy charts with his candle flickering steadily as the waning moon slowly climbs in the sky beyond his window.

Addie surprises him; she comes early. Caspian catches her hand when it lands on his shoulder and presses a kiss to her knuckles.

"Sleep okay?"

Caspian wills his ears to remain a normal shade. "A bit too well. I'm afraid I missed breakfast."

Addie grins and taps his nose with her finger. "Me too. But you shouldn't skip breakfast; did you at least take your other meals?"

"Were you late?" Not his most skilled dodge, but likely not his worst; Addie is far worse at it than he is.

"Almost missed my morning with Bruna," she confesses. Addie's hand slips from his as she moves to take over the window seat. Caspian watches her closely; this new book is much different from the others.

He pinpoints the exact moment she recognises it. Her jaw slackens as her fingers trace the gilded letters on the spine and lingere over the name she's certainly not read before.

"The Adventure of Prince Cor? This isn't Telmarine," Addie whispers carefully, and Caspian knows right then he's made an excellent choice. Addie may be impulsive, but she'll take care of this book like her life depends on it. She knows his library well enough to recognise something Narnian.

"I thought you might like another perspective. A story of a different time."

"Good thing I do my reading here."

Addie already has the book open, her finger tracing down the first page. She's got much quicker over the months, especially with stories. Poems still seem to merit several rereads (Caspian can empathise; poetry isn't his strongest genre either), but Addie rarely repeats a page unless the words are wrapped in Telmarine calligraphy. She seems to have no trouble with the flowing Narnian script.

It's a peaceful evening, back to routine. Caspian learns the season's star paths with surprising efficiency. Addie's proximity helps him focus - he doesn't pace the room anymore, just stretches now and then before focusing anew. She can be distracting, true, but there's comfort in her presence, in sharing his space with her.

Caspian knows he should turn in early for the night. His astronomy lesson will take a good chunk from his sleep, and he's already tired from last night. A sensible man would kiss Addie goodnight, bid her stay as long as she like reading, and go to sleep straightaway.

Unfortunately, Caspian is not a sensible man when it comes to Addie. He's not sure such a person could exist. So he lingers, watching the flow of her finger down the pages, her mouth set in a concentrated frown as she chews her bottom lip.

Yes, he chose well; it was time to share this secret with her. Caspian can't pinpoint the glow in his chest - relief, care, pride? Affection, deeper than he ought to allow himself with his uncle still in power?

All of them at once, he decides.

Addie doesn't seem to notice him staring. Caspian's chest warms; he hoped she'd enjoy the tale of the long-lost Prince Cor, Bree the Talking Horse, and Aravis the Tarkheena turned Queen of Archenland. Caspian chose it especially for its attention to Aravis; most of her Telmarine readings were children's stories or politico-military history, and Telmarine war tales are dominated by kings and generals. It was past time to offer her a book with more than a passing mention of her sex.

Caspian never noticed how sparsely women appeared in Telmarine literature, even children's stories. Perhaps the women have their own libraries with stories he's not privy to, but he can't ask his aunt for fear she'd mention the odd request to Miraz. No matter; the Narnian stories will fill the gap.

Addie finishes two chapters, if his guess is right. Caspian nearly wore the pages out of their bindings when Doctor Cornelius first gave it to him, so he has a decent idea of how many pages she's got through. He would be content to sit here quietly for another hour, but she gently closes the book and looks up.

"Can I ask you something?"

His reply is instant, instinctual.

"Of course." Caspian joins her when she pats the dented cushion, perching in the space she clears for him. "But I believe you just did."

Addie scrunches her nose and Lion it's adorable. She's almost too good at reminding him how to be playful. "Very funny. It's about a soldier. Do you know of anyone named Alfonso?"

A soldier? Worry gnaws at his stomach.

"No," says Caspian, "but I can find out. Is anything the matter?"

"I don't think so, but I want to be sure." She sighs, turning to stare out the window. "Lola's involved. I want to make sure he's…"

"A good man?"

"That, and good for her." Addie sets the book on the cushion beside her and picks at her nails. One of her nervous tics when she's trying not to let on.

Caspian strokes her calf slowly, his fingers skirting under the hem of her dress. "Are you worried?"

Addie's leg starts to bounce under his touch.

"Yes. No. I don't know." She exhales roughly, leaning her head back against the stone. Any other time, Caspian would be transfixed by the smooth column of her throat. "Lola likes him, and I trust her judgment. But he's still a soldier, and I thought he and Marcos were friends, or maybe they just share some friends, and - I just want to be sure."

"I'll find out whatever I can," Caspian promises. "Have you met him?"

She nods, the motion jerky with her neck stretched so far back. "He seemed nice." A tentative smile breaks across her knitted brow. "He reminded me of you, a little. Gentle, charming, courteous. Too polite for his own good. Lola said he makes her feel like a lady."

The sparkle that blooms in her eyes is surely teasing, but Caspian seizes on the second of the three. "Charming?"

Addie lifts her head and finally meets his eyes. "Yes," she says, her mouth quirking. "Charming. Isn't that what all you princes are?"

"I wasn't aware we were much good at it. And Alfonso is a soldier, isn't he?" He flicks his fingers over the sensitive skin behind her ankle, entirely too pleased when she kicks at him.

Addie tilts her head just so. "Stop that," she says. "He's with Lola, and I'm with you. I'm only making sure everything is as it should be." Her toe nudges his midriff, just enough to tickle. Caspian curls his fingers tighter and holds her leg fast.

"I'll ask discreetly. Poking my stomach won't bring answers faster, my lady."

"My lady?" Addie lounges back into the pillows with a feline grin. "There it is. Charming."

It's impossible to worry what Addie's thinking when she looks at him like that - like he's treading dangerous ground and she likes it. Caspian's hand slides up her calf until he finds the curve of her knee.

"Is that a bad thing?"

Addie's grin turns wicked. "Well, it does things to me."

He is a foolish, foolish man. "What manner of things?"

Addie's eyes sweep him thoroughly, surely noting how his pulse jumps beneath his skin. "Things perhaps best left to a bed. Things you should put out of your head with that astronomy lesson tonight."

Caspian nearly curses. Such a conversation, held with his hand under her skirt, is exquisitely excruciating. However, Addie has a point; he should retire and try not to lie awake wishing she were in bed with him doing anything but sleeping.

Lion help him, the idea sounds entirely worth it.

Addie lightly pinches his knee and picks up the book. "Off you go now, Caspian. There's always tomorrow."

It takes a truly herculean force of will to not fall into her lap and groan like a man wasted on spirits. Caspian's legs barely obey as he slides off the seat to stand beside her.

"You will be the death of me."

Her hand flashes out, grabs the front of his shirt, and pulls him down with surprising force. This time, their goodnight kiss is blistering and desperate.

"Then I'll fetch you from the afterlife myself," Addie whispers.

He believes her. He'd believe anything with her breath honey-sweet in his mouth. Caspian excuses himself on unsteady legs.

"Stay as long as you like; all night if you wish," he manages in a facsimile of a sensible man, as if she didn't just kiss him like a first and a last and a thousandth time all at once. "I don't mind."

"Goodnight, Caspian."

If it's possible to grow addicted to a person's smile, Caspian passed the threshold weeks ago. Sleeping knowing Addie is only a room away, when the heady scent of her hair still lingers on his pillow and the memory of her exposed from the ribs up flickers behind his eyelids, is one of the hardest things he's ever done.

Somehow, he manages.

When Doctor Cornelius fetches him for the lesson, Caspian fumbles his way out of his sheets and gropes for his boots. Before he leaves, he glances into the study on a whim.

Addie's still there, curled up like a kitten in the window seat with the book clutched to her chest. She doesn't stir at his footsteps, nor when he takes the coverlet from his bed and tucks it around her shoulders and knees.

Doctor Cornelius raises his eyebrows, but after a pleading look with his finger over his lips, Caspian knows his secret is safe. His professor is an expert in keeping secrets.

Their familiar path to the North Tower passes quickly underfoot. Caspian finds himself on the turret with the sky and stars spread out above him like a map to some great adventure. He'll never grow tired of gazing up at the stars with the crisp midnight breeze bright in his nose. The stars twinkle with a thousand secrets, things no man has ever seen. How much do they see? Do they watch his fellow mortals crawling about on the surface of the world, or are their attentions tuned to more pressing matters of the heavens?

"See there, my prince, just above the trees."

Caspian follows his Professor's thick finger until he finds the Ship. It's the first constellation to rise as spring thickens to summer, as if it's leading the way for its kin. "The bow points off toward Aravir's rising, does it not?"

Doctor Cornelius claps Caspian soundly on the back. "Very good. And where are Tarva and Alambil? They have lingered in these skies for many months."

"Growing ever closer," Caspian finishes. He casts about for a few moments before he finds them - the two brightest stars in the sky, even with the summer constellations on the rise. "There," he points. "Shouldn't they have set by now, Professor?"

"Indeed," says the old man. "Why might that be?"

Caspian cranes his neck. They haven't grown closer that he can see, but neither have they begun to set. "You said they meant some great good is coming to Narnia. But it seems to be taking its time."

"And yet, closer they grow." Doctor Cornelius adopts his teaching stance, hands over his round belly and his beady eyes peering intently at Caspian over his spectacles. "The heavens have their own time, but they never lie. Keep watch, my prince, and you will know when the time arrives."

Perhaps. There's enough truth in his Professor's voice to stave away Caspian's worries for a precious few moments. He's made some headway with the lords of late. Miraz still controls a good half of them, while Caspian has the tentative loyalty of the nobles formerly aligned with his father. Miraz did away with seven of his father's most steadfast supporters, true, but some of the living would stand with the true king if the situation seemed right.

Setting the situation right is not nearly so easy as he'd like.

"Take heart," says the Doctor. "Victory and peace are coming to Narnia. You must only be ready to ensure they do."

"I'll try, Professor."

If only he had a clearer idea of how.

"Ah, nephew. Has the good Doctor neglected to teach you the passage of time?" One of Miraz's talents is sneering in between precise spoonfuls of porridge.

"Sorry uncle," Caspian mumbles. "I overslept."

More accurately, Caspian spent the darkest morning hours with his sheets tangled in his legs and his uncle's shadow lingering in his mind. It took a half an hour of daylight to soothe him, since Addie was gone by the time his astronomy lesson was over. But Miraz doesn't need to know that.

"Doctor Cornelius really shouldn't keep you out so late," adds Lady Prunaprismia. She tucks a grape against her knife and spears it cleanly. "It's not healthy, losing sleep for a few stars."

Caspian smiles politely. At least his aunt attempts to be pleasant, though he can't always gauge her sincerity. He waits until she plucks a bunch of grapes from the nearest platter before taking a pear and a pillowy golden roll for himself. He leaves his bowl of porridge untouched for now; of all the things on this table, the porridge and the wine in his goblet are the only things not meant for anyone else. The easiest things to target, if someone wished.

Miraz cleans his own bowl down to the last spoonful. "Perhaps your poor appetite is the result of sneaking around."

Caspian hesitates with the roll halfway to his mouth. Surely his uncle can't know about Addie, or he wouldn't care. Why should anyone care if he spends nights with a servant?

"Sneaking around?" Caspian bites the roll and chews without tasting it.

"Perhaps I should speak with Doctor Cornelius." Miraz drains his goblet in two sharp swallows before swiping his napkin across his mouth. The white cloth comes away stained with a streak of pink. "He must be neglecting your lessons if you have time to reassign castle guards."

Caspian's throat thickens around half-chewed butter roll. He considers the goblet before him, but he bites the pear instead.

"He was out of line," Caspian answers carefully, around a rude mouthful. "I didn't wish to bother you with mere trifles."

Miraz dabs a drop of wine from the corner of his mouth and regards Caspian as a snake might its next meal. "Out of line?"

"Insubordinate," Caspian supplies. "I believe it was you who taught me not to suffer disloyalty, uncle."

"So I did."

Miraz tosses his napkin onto the table and rises with a long, piercing stare. Caspian fixes his eyes on his plate as his uncle leaves after depositing the usual perfunctory kiss atop Lady Prunaprismia's head.

His aunt strikes up enough small talk to finish out breakfast, but Caspian can't keep up the conversation as he should. It's strange to see Miraz express anything but disdain.

Fortunately, Caspian has ample practice ignoring his uncle's commands.

After his afternoon sparring, Caspian goes to the Captain of the Guard. The Captain stands straighter as Caspian approaches, but his eyes dart around.

"Good afternoon, Captain," Caspian says anyway, hands clasped behind his back to ensure his posture is straight as can be. "I require information on a night guard. What can you tell me of Alfonso?"

The Captain doesn't meet his gaze. "There are dozens of night guards, Highness," he answers, lifting his chin more than necessary. "I'm afraid I don't know all by name."

The Captain normally prides himself on maintaining a mental roster as complete as the book propped open on the desk; Alfonso can't be so quiet he's escaped notice. A guard with his mild temperament would inevitably catch the Captain's notice if only for scoldings. He knew of Marcos the moment Caspian asked of him.

Caspian glances past the Captain's muscled frame to the guard roster laid open inside his office.

"Hence the roster. Excuse me, Captain." Caspian makes it three strides before the Captain slides between him and the spartan desk.

"A thousand apologies, Your Highness," says the Captain, "but perhaps your uncle has the insight you require. He knows his men better than I."

Impossible; Miraz only visits the sparring fields every few days, and he never deigns to speak to anyone aside from his sparring partner. Or, when he's in a particularly foul mood, he comes up with some scathing criticism of Caspian's form - 'a disgrace to their ancestors' has been Miraz's latest favourite.

Caspian leans closer and softens his posture. "Has something happened, Captain?"

"Begging your pardon." The Captain clears his throat and lets the roster pages flutter closed. "Best inquire elsewhere."

Perhaps a different tactic. Caspian squints and tries to mimic his uncle's gravelly tone.

"You would disobey your prince?"

It's only for a moment. But Caspian stiffens anyway, because this hasn't happened before. The Captain's hand comes up to rest at his belt, too close to his sword hilt for comfort. He brushes inconvincingly at an invisible speck of dust.

The Captain steps away from the table. Caspian opens the roster again, as if nothing happened, and scans until he finds Alfonso's name. He signed on two years ago after travelling from the settlement in Ettinsmoor. One younger sister, both parents living. He's roughly Caspian's age, but there's no notation on his reason for joining or anything else. Marcos' entry noted his brother's employment in Lord Sopespian's troops.

Caspian thumbs back to the original page. "Thank you, Captain."

The Captain bows shallowly at the waist. "Your Highness."

As he leaves, Caspian takes care not to turn his back.

Next, Caspian tries General Glozelle.

"Apologies," says the General, "but all matters of my Lord's troops must pass through him. If you've discovered a problem, I must ask you to take it up with your uncle."

What is Miraz up to? Caspian's never met this much resistance.

At least Glozelle doesn't reach for his sword. Still, Caspian's not inclined to test his luck with any more soldiers. Lord Arlian was once loyal to his father; perhaps there's enough goodwill that he might help.

Caspian finds Lord Arlian just before the dinner hour. Fortunately, most Lords of the Council are in the city for the monthly council session, and Lord Arlian's rooms are along the same hallway as Caspian's.

Lord Arlian smiles pleasantly at Caspian's approach. "Ah, Your Highness. How fare your studies?"

"Quite well, thank you," Caspian answers as he jogs over. "Though I wonder if you might be of help."

"I'd like to think so," says Lord Arlian. "What can I do for you?"

Caspian glances up and down the hall before answering quietly. "I need information on a castle guard. I'm afraid I've exhausted the usual avenues."

Lord Arlian frowns, as if he knows precisely the frustrations Caspian's run into. "Avenues seem to be shrinking these days. I know little of individual guards, but my men may know more. Which one?"

Caspian holds back a sigh of relief. "Alfonso - one of the courtyard night patrols."

"Perhaps I can turn up something. Good day, Highness."

Thank the Lion for allies. Caspian returns to his room and studies easier that night, even though he misses dinner. At least old alliances still have some sway.

Addie

Perla really should find some consistency to her schedule. It hardly bothered Addie before, when she was just a new kitchen maid with nowhere else to be. But now she has one place particularly in mind, and leaving just after sunset one day and staying late into the night to scrub pots the next is growing tiresome.

Addie makes the mistake of complaining one night. Perla's favourite spatula ensures she doesn't get such an idea again. As Perla so kindly put it, "Perhaps you'd like to explain to Lord Miraz why he should eat the same meal every day?"

No one in their right mind would offer to explain anything to Miraz, so Addie shuts up and scrubs without complaint. The time passes much slower than when she's preparing food, but at least she can work side by side with Lola.

Caspian found little more about Alfonso than Lola's already said. Alfonso is relatively young - freshly recruited two years ago and still quite attached to his family. Some soldiers are, Caspian explained, if they came from good families who just needed a better salary than a tradesman or farmer. Others don't care about staying in touch, whether for lack of a family, lack of a family they like, or just the stubborn independence of young men determined to make their own way in the world. Alfonso is a kind one with good family ties. He's liked well enough in the ranks, even though his immediate supervisors consider him timid and forgettable. Caspian apparently had a devil of a time getting them to even remember Alfonso's existence.

It's not much information. But the castle is full of tidbits and gossip about anyone and everyone - Addie just has to figure out who knows more. Who hears more.

The answer comes to her when she goes out with Lola to fill the water jugs. Between the two of them, they manage the three empty jugs. Lola insists on hauling the bucket herself; she tastes the sting of Perla's spatula the least, so she often covers for Perla's least favourite of the day.

"How's your hand?"

Addie shakes it out. "A little bruised, but no trouble. I should've known Perla wasn't in the negotiating mood."

Lola snorts. "Perla's never in a negotiating mood." She's much more patient drawing up the bucket - hand over hand, nice and steady. The buckets of water she brings up are always within two inches of the brim.

"Exactly."

Lola finishes filling the first jug so Addie hauls it back inside. When she comes back out, Alfonso's shift has started. He stands chattering with Lola, one hand drumming against the well's rim. His shoulders and posture are looser now, have been ever since the seeds. It should be a good thing, him getting more comfortable. If his skittish, awkward charm is an act, it'll fall away like dead leaves in autumn.

Alfonso takes over the rope. The way Lola's hand touches his shoulder is too familiar - Addie touches Caspian like that to say hello. Alfonso's manners have either held on longer than expected or his courtesy is more akin to an evergreen tree than the maples and ashes that shed their leaves at the first snap of cold.

As she stands there awkwardly in the kitchen doorway, Addie notices a light off to her left. Squinting, she steps closer and sure enough, it's Sal's sputtering twin lanterns. Come to think of it, this hasn't been the first time Sal's been up late. She looks to be more a night owl than a morning riser; her eyes always look dry and clouded when Addie drops off the laundry.

"Once those jugs are full, you're done," calls Perla. "Get on now."

Addie calls her thanks over her shoulder and makes a beeline for Sal. She must see things, hear things. Perhaps she'll be inclined to share; she gets little company aside from Addie and a few of the older laundry maids. She's a feared woman, for food or for ill. She seems to like it that way.

"Goodnight, Lola," Addie calls across the courtyard. She's really not needed, and Lola likes her private time with Alfonso whenever she can get it.

Sal's candle sputters as Addie steps into the small washing room and the dancing shadows. "Need a hand?"

Sal doesn't look up from pushing a tablecloth through the lye bath with her long wooden stick. "No. Wouldn't mind one, though."

The gruff, short woman tosses the paddle at her. Addie tries to mimic what she's seen Sal do, awkward angle though it is. Within minutes, her shoulders are screaming.

"I thought the well bucket put some strength in my arms," Addie puffs. "How do you manage this every day?"

According to rumors Sal's not one to smile, but the ghost of satisfaction flickers in her grumbled reply. "Practice."

"Right."

Addie churns and pushes and pulls the linen through the bath until Sal finally deems it clean enough. The rinsing tub is already full, a detail Addie doesn't properly consider. When she drops in the sudsed tablecloth, water sloshes over half her skirt.

"Rinse that dress, girl," Sal snaps. "Lye burns if you're not careful."

"I will," says Addie. "Though the water's not bad for cooling off."

Sal steps outside to pin up the wet things, leaving an odd calm in her wake. It's peaceful, working quietly with little company. A pleasant change, except for the stabbing aches in her arms and shoulders.

When Sal returns, she has Addie hold up the tablecloth on the paddle and dumps one final bucket of water over it. Addie nearly drops the paddle and the cloth into the now-soapy rinsing tub, but there's just enough stubbornness left in her to push through. Addie waits until they're wringing it out to speak again.

"You're often here late," Addie notes. "Different hours than most of us."

Sal wrings out the next section of cloth, sending a cold splash of water into the drain by Addie's feet. "What about it?"

Addie twists the tablecloth tighter. "You're here when the guard changes. So I'm thinking you know who's who."

"What's it to you?" Sal jerks her head toward the door. Addie follows her outside and keeps the wrung tablecloth from touching the ground while Sal climbs up on her step stool to hang this last item for the night.

"I want to know about a night guard. He's been spending time with one of my friends."

"Nosing around, are you?" Sal grunts. "Friend must love that."

Addie chews the inside of her cheek long enough to get her courage back. "I'd rather annoy her making sure she's safe than do nothing and risk something happening."

Sal pauses, hand suspended with a clothespin pinched open above the line. Her sharp green eyes strip away all Addie's stilted pleasantries, leaving nothing but the fear of Lola, too, learning the dangers of soldiers. Anna tried to warn them, and Addie made the same mistake. Addie owes it to them all to make sure she's the last.

"Which one?"

Addie's breath whooshes out, all pretense of stoicism swept away. "Alfonso. About my age, the clean-shaven one with the curly black hair. He's forever sending packages to Ettinsmoor, if that helps."

Sal guffaws and pins up the last swath of tablecloth. "That one's a pup. Couldn't hurt a fly if he tried."

"And the manners?" Addie presses.

"Honest, if you can believe it. You ask me, that boy has no business being a soldier. Too wet behind the ears."

The knot eases itself loose deep in Addie's chest. Lola should be safe, then. Happy.

"Good," Addie murmurs. "That's good."

"Is it?" Sal climbs down and stows the stool just inside her door. "Listen here, girl. Good now, maybe. Good when this castle and the entire country goes to civil war? How safe will your little friend be when her lover winds up dead in the first battle? If his honour sticks him with the losing side? She'll be a widow or a traitor. She stays here, she survives the first. The second? You'd best say your goodbyes now."

The relief snaps away as quickly as it came, leaving the hollow, sour taste of dread. "Civil war?" Addie chokes out.

Sal pushes her inside the washing room and closes the door tight. "For a girl cozied up to the prince, you don't have much of a brain, do you?" Sal's fingers snap against her forehead, harsh and stinging. "Wake up. That prince of yours and Lord Miraz are vying for the same throne. Miraz will kill to get it. Will your prince do the same?"

Addie squares her shoulders, even though Sal's snuffed out the two candles and no one can see through the inky blackness.

"If he had to."

"If he had to. How nice. His uncle kills because he likes to." Pale moonlight floods the room as Sal pulls her door open with a scrape and a groan of the hinges. "Worry about your friend if you must, girl. But worry for yourself while you're at it."

Addie obeys the dismissal instantly. The gush of fresh air should be a relief, but it stabs at her wet skin, biting her heels even with the day's heat still lingering in the cobblestones. There's no comfort to be had from the castle tonight.

Addie stands there stupidly in the courtyard until a soldier's boots break the haze fogging her mind.

"Addie? Are you alright?" Alfonso appears at her side, on his nightly rounds. He really does have a kind face.

Sal is right; Alfonso is too gentle for castle life. Addie's wariness evaporates quicker than morning dew on the summer solstice, and she greets him with the first genuine smile of their acquaintance.

"I'm fine, Alfonso. Thank you," she says, every lying word thick as cotton behind her teeth. "Excuse me."

Addie has enough common sense to walk until the shadows of the hallway swallow her. Then, she runs and runs and doesn't stop until she's in Caspian's study with the door safely shut behind her.

Soft snores float from the bedroom, too innocent, too trusting after the conversation she had. Addie tells herself she's just checking to see if he's sleeping well, that he's not caught in another nightmare, that the lines of his forehead are smooth and peaceful.

Caspian's face is slack and boyish in sleep. He's spread out on his back, one arm flung across the bed and the other crossed over his stomach. The snoring is louder now that she's right beside him, but it's not that bad. It would be funny any other time.

Addie reaches out and brushes careful fingers over his cheek. Just to make sure. Caspian shifts, turning toward her touch and sighing when she pulls her hand away.

She'd give almost anything to spend the night tucked up against him, just so she could listen to his heartbeat, his breathing, even his snoring. Just so she'd know he's alright. So she could pretend, for a little longer, that Miraz is nothing more than a snappish noble too busy with lofty things to be a real threat to her. To anyone she… cares about.

Addie doesn't find the courage to intrude so boldly, but she curls up on the window seat with the bedroom door wide open so she can fall asleep to the whisper of Caspian's breathing.

Chapter 11 Preview:

Two things happen at once. The first is a string of words Caspian hopes are sensible and vicious enough to convince his uncle that he's truly happened to lose his temper. The second is a sudden, entirely obvious realisation.

He can't lose her at all.