A/N: The plot thickens... this chapter marks the halfway point of Part I: Flashover. Any guesses what goodies I've got in store for the second half?

Chapter 12 Content Warnings: reference to sexual assault (apology)

Chapter 12: the shape of your name still spells out pain

Addie

It's not that hard to figure out; Caspian's no stranger to her arousal.

Apparently, experience is nothing in the face of worry. But it's not the time for such things, not after their close brush with Miraz and that unscheduled astronomy lesson. Addie counts her breaths and shoves her awareness of Caspian's hands into the back of her mind.

"Are you alright?" Caspian's murmur is a reverent thing. His touch along her throbbing neck nearly breaks her resolve, nearly reignites the confusing blaze of need he so obliviously started.

Addie manages an inarticulate hum. The haze of lust overtook her so quickly it almost swept away the terror that sent her looking for him.

Maybe that's what it was. Maybe the relief and adrenaline swirled together to create something like desire. Addie presses her thighs together, tries to be discreet.

It's not the time. Caspian seems shaken too, his gaze echoing with unspoken things, and not for the reasons she is. Though his hands trace her skin, his mind is a thousand miles away.

Addie pulls air into her lungs, setting a rhythm slow and steady enough to soothe her pounding heart back to normal.

"Are you?" There, coherent words at last, though they come out so raspy Caspian frowns.

Addie bites her tongue against a curse. She's ignored her body's pleas many times before; it shouldn't be this much trouble to do it again. She completely misses Caspian's answer as she drags herself back to the present.

"Sorry?" she mumbles.

Caspian's hand cups her cheek as he scans her again. "I'm alright. Lion, Addie, you're flushed."

Addie has the presence of mind to wave off the observation. "I'm fine," she insists. "Why the astronomy lesson out of nowhere?"

Caspian deflates instantly, lost in machinations far beyond her own circle of life. "Have you heard any rumours of late?"

Sal's warning flashes bitter in her mind. Addie glances away, as if not looking at Caspian will ward off the usual bout of nausea that comes on whenever she remembers how easily she could lose him. It'd only take a single order from Miraz. Caspian can't fight off an entire company of soldiers on his own, and with how he sneaks around too, he must not have any soldiers on his side.

Or if he does, they aren't enough.

Miraz will kill to get it. Would your prince do the same?

Addie told herself he would, but after seeing Miraz and Sopespian up close with her own eyes, Caspian seems suddenly like one man alone in a sea of wolves.

She'll fight anyone who tries to touch him. But what good is she against a company of soldiers when she could barely stop one? What happens when her fight runs out and running away is the only thing left to do? What help is there in the wilds of Narnia?

If he had to? How nice.

His uncle kills because he likes to.

Because he likes to… Who else has Miraz killed? Anna always says rumours have elements of truth.

Addie shivers and clutches Caspian tighter, one hand fisted in his shirt and the other at his jaw, her fingertips counting every beat of his heart.

"Some," she admits. "Which ones are real?"

"My aunt is with child," says Caspian. He's looking right at her, but he seems distant. Already lost to her around the edges.

Addie frowns. The rumour mill told her that much. "Meaning…?"

Caspian's sigh isn't quite defeat, but it shivers like exhaustion. "If she bears a daughter, Miraz has no heir. But a son… he will have no further need of me."

Sal was right. Addie forces her breathing back into the pattern of four.

"Okay," she whispers. "But Narnia does, doesn't it? So there's a way out of this."

"I have some allies. Fair-weather friends of my father," Caspian continues, his voice bitter, as sharp as Perla's knives. "But they will only follow someone with an army at their back."

Addie chews her tongue until the coppery taste of blood blooms in her mouth. "So we find you an army."

"That's the idea."

It's not much in the grand scheme of things. Just the contour of hope, of possibility that Miraz hasn't won yet. Hope, fragile as it is, will have to be enough.

Caspian has to survive. She can't lose him, too.

Morning brings a new routine. Caspian was loath to let her out of his sight, and Addie wasn't pleased at the idea either. So she made her bed on the window seat as she has a few times now with one of Caspian's blankets for warmth.

It smells like him - parchment and leather and his nutty, vaguely spicy soap. The comfort lulls her into a fitful sleep, though she wakes with every small sound from the bedroom. Caspian is either a restless dreamer (no nightmares; he never cried out) or he didn't sleep either.

Addie gives up when the sky lightens to grey. There's no sense in staring at the ceiling for another hour. Her head rings as she hauls herself upright and doesn't abate as she folds the blanket and stretches her back. A few satisfying pops later, she's as awake as she'll get.

She considers the blanket in her arms, folded into a perfect square even with her eyes still bleary. Leaving it on the window seat is far, far too obvious, but if Caspian is still asleep, she'd rather not wake him. He'll need his rest in the coming months.

Addie shakes out her perfect folding and tosses the blanket over both arms of Caspian's desk chair, like he shrugged it off while studying. With his bed now missing a blanket, perhaps Bruna will add another to Caspian's rooms for convenience without Addie suggesting anything.

The bed creaks. Addie pads to the doorway and smiles over at Caspian as if she didn't spend the last several hours flinching at every noise he made. Daggers to the chest in one's sleep wouldn't be quiet things, but Caspian does dream of his father choking on poison at his bedside. Addie tasted the water when he wasn't looking, but still. She has every right to her paranoia.

"Morning." By some miracle, her voice stays steady even with the shivers lingering between her ribs.

Caspian blinks lazily up at her, still perched on the side of the bed. One of the white bed curtains is caught on his hair - also a mess, with tousled waves sticking up every way imaginable.

Addie's mouth pinches into a smile. "No skipping breakfast today. Come by the kitchen, like you used to."

Unfortunately, Caspian sees fit to dodge the reminder - as usual. "No," he croaks, sleep still thick in his eyes. "I'm afraid I have much politicking to do."

"As long as you eat." She turns to give him privacy, but Caspian calls her back. "Yes?"

His eyes are all the answer she needs; Addie crosses the room instantly and folds him into her arms.

At least here in her arms, she knows he's safe. She can kiss the top of his head and brush off the curtain, smooth his hair, count his pulse, match his breathing. She can stroke his back and feel him warm and solid and alive under her palms. She can pretend they're in a different world where she could take his safety for granted.

Logically, Addie knows Caspian has to get up soon, get dressed and go out into the wolves' den to secure allies. She has to let him go so he can convince some of those useless nobles why they can't roll over and let Miraz have the throne.

Realistically, her arms won't move. For the first time, it's Caspian who pulls away first. His hands are gentle as they rub up her arms until her grip loosens enough for him to stand, but it still stings. Anything could happen while he's out there. What if someone poisons his food? Takes aim when he's on the training grounds, fetching an arrow from the target?

"Be careful," Addie whispers. It's a pale reflection of her concern, futile enough to turn her stomach.

Caspian's lingering, slow kiss would be a perfectly lovely answer any other time. Today, it feels like a distraction, like Caspian is trying to convince her he's safer than he is.

Addie retreats to the study and curls up with a book so she won't intrude while he dresses. But as soon as she hears his boots on the floor, Addie leaps up to watch him go.

Bruna bustles in when Addie's stripping the bed to rediscover her sense of composure. Routine should help. It has to.

"Morning Addie," she hums. "You're up early."

Addie shrugs as she shucks off the pillowcases and adds them to the pile on the floor. "Couldn't sleep."

Bruna wastes no time throwing the linens into the basket. "That seems common these days. I'll help with the study today; don't want you to be late."

Addie's rarely late to the kitchen anymore - now that she has a routine, she slides through her days mostly on schedule. She's just about to say so when Bruna fixes her with a stern stare.

"Thanks," Addie says. "That'd be great."

Making the bed together helps Addie settle. Whatever is on Bruna's mind, it can't be worse than the revelations of the past two days.

Once the bed is made with sharp corners and precisely fluffed pillows, Bruna hurries into the study and starts dusting the window panes. Addie joins her, and at once the pretense of cleaning falls away.

"How much do you know of Lord Miraz?" Bruna's whisper is almost too quiet for Addie's ears, even with scant inches between them. Addie plumps the window seat pillows and plucks off stray fuzz.

"Caspian's uncle," Addie breathes. "Lord protecting the throne, or something like that. Apparently to be congratulated."

The cushions are more than plump, but Bruna does them again. "He'll likely wait until the babe is born. But if he tries to dispose of Caspian, anyone close to him is next." Bruna snatches Addie's hand tight enough to bruise, tight enough that Addie's bones creak. "Anyone."

"You?" Addie's not known Bruna long, but it's worth asking. How far down Caspian's chain of associations would Miraz go?

"Likely not. Doctor Cornelius? Likely. And you, Addie." Bruna grips Addie's fingers until one of her knuckles pops. "Be careful."

Addie's about to agree, to nod along and let the worry continue spinning a dark cocoon around her. But when Bruna drops her hand, clarity rushes in. This is Caspian's study. This is where she scolded a prince until he let her do as she wished for employment. This is where she kissed him like an equal, where she made a man with a throne to his name fall to his knees before her. This is where she spends the night when she decides he should have someone watching over him while he sleeps.

She's no timid thing. Not then, and not now.

Addie sets her jaw and tucks away her dusting rag. "They won't touch him."

"They will," Bruna hisses. "Don't be stupid. Don't you dare do anything stupid."

"Then what? Just wait, wonder when they'll come?" Addie remembers too late that Bruna whispered, that their entire conversation has been the language of secrets and warnings. Miraz stepped up his spies' reach if they can't speak freely in Caspian's study anymore.

Bruna's rag smacks her face. Coughing away the dust, Addie yanks it free to find Bruna at her nose.

"Keep this up and you're both more vulnerable. Keep going and you're both in more danger." Bruna pauses and breathes deep, closing her eyes like a woman praying for patience. When she takes back her rag, she rests her hands square on Addie's shoulders. "If he cares about you and you care about him, you're his weakness. And he is yours. Do you understand?"

Addie's teeth sink into her lip. It's sensible, what Bruna's saying. It's the logical thing to do, but just the thought sends Addie's heart bucking and desperate. Hasn't she lost enough people she loves?

And hasn't the damage been done already? What will it change if they try to forget each other? If Miraz has the notion in his head, how much can they convince him otherwise? Caspian himself said Miraz never lets an idea go once he has it.

"It's a little too late for that," Addie whispers. "Isn't it?"

Maybe if she'd thought of it sooner. Maybe if Caspian had been less… him. Less awkward, less polite, less understanding. Maybe if she'd been more stubborn, more difficult, kept to teasing him instead of kissing him until her heart reached for him like her body did.

But he wasn't, and she didn't.

Bruna sighs, her hands weighing heavier. "Possibly," she admits. "But trying is better than doing nothing. You have months yet before Prunaprismia's babe comes. I'll help you."

Addie should agree. Princes and kitchen maids aren't meant to cross paths anyway, and she's not trained for these political games. But didn't she and Caspian decide differently, just by falling into each other?

"I can't." Addie takes hold of Bruna's hands and guides them off her shoulders. "Not yet. Like you said, we have some time. Just let me think; there's got to be something else we can do."

Bruna's hands fall away. The concern tightening her features drops, leaving behind a blank mask with nothing but pursed lips betraying what she really thinks.

"Perhaps. Come now. The study is clean enough."

Bruna leaves without ceremony, without bothering to hold the door. Addie follows. Caspian's done an excellent job cleaning up lately; there's little to do most mornings. Besides, it's nice to walk with Bruna until she peels off toward the next room and sends Addie to deliver the dirty linens.

Bruna's disappointment is a sticky ache in her shoulders. But that doesn't mean Bruna has to be right.

Apparently, two warnings in the two days isn't enough for whatever god is to blame for the latest turn of events.

The rest of Addie's day goes normally enough. Sal is her usual chipper self, Perla is ever patient with her spatula by her side, and Lola finds every excuse to refill water jugs the moment Alfonso's shift starts. Claudia even teases Addie about her recent absences, asking if she's found a different bed she likes better.

"I got tired of your snores," Addie says, brushing it off as best she can. She's not sure how much the rumours have told them. As little as she knows of politics, Addie knows enough to understand that the less her fellow maids know, the better.

The comforting normalcy melts into nothing when Addie shuffles back to her room - with the others, for once - and finds Marcos waiting outside the door.

Of all the days. Of all the nights. Does he have no sense of timing? And since she couldn't manage to tell anyone but Anna what happened, they greet him like a friendly acquaintance, dipping into little curtsies and asking about his new post.

Manners. Will they ever stop being so stupidly inconvenient?

"Tolerable enough," says Marcos. "If you don't mind, I'd like to speak with Addie."

She should punch him. How poetic it would be if she struck his jaw exactly as he taught her. What is he thinking, asking their permission and not hers?

Addie waits until the others file into the room. Anna lingers until Addie nods, her hand gentle at Addie's elbow. Marcos waits quietly, uncharacteristically patient.

Addie jerks her chin toward the door to the courtyard. It's rude and dismissive, but it's the best she can do.

"What's this about?"

Her icy tone might've been gratifying to her another night, if just standing here tolerating Marcos wasn't time she could be spending with Caspian.

Still, at least there's strength in her still. It's a small reminder that she can handle things like this. She's not entirely out of her depth.

Addie straightens her back. She's survived him before.

"A warning." Marcos picks at a loose thread on his sleeve. "And an apology."

Apology?

Warnings, she's had more than her fill. But the latter… Marcos never apologised. Not even the half dozen times he came to her afterwards, trying to tell her she'd misunderstood.

"The courtyard, then."

Addie spins on her heel and follows the torchlight back outside. The waning moon casts less light each night, painting the courtyard in deeper shadows than she'd prefer. But it's better than a narrow hallway, and Alfonso is on duty tonight. She's not wholly alone.

Marcos goes straight for their old spot along the nearest wall. Moonlight never quite reaches this corner, and tonight it's the darkest spot in the courtyard.

Addie follows only as far as the moonlight reaches. She sits at the light's edge, the distance between them just comfortable enough she can stand it.

"Start talking," she snaps.

Marcos has the sense to stay where he is, the shadows nearly swallowing his low murmur.

"I'm sorry." He shuffles, boots scuffing on stone. "I overstepped, last time."

Addie hugs her knees to her chest until her shoulders ache. "Yes, you did. Several times."

"Let me get this out. I thought I knew what you wanted, and I'm sorry if it went too far. It won't happen again."

The words seem genuine enough. There's no stiffness, no snap at the end of the syllables like when Marcos lies. But with him cast in shadows, Addie can't tell for sure.

And there was no "if" about it.

"Good," she says. "So why are you here?"

Marcos sighs in that huffy way of his, like a petulant child with a man's voice. "That's half of it, I told you."

The shadows around him shift. He might be rubbing the back of his neck; he used to do that when he couldn't find the words he wanted.

Addie pinches the inside of her elbow. It doesn't matter if the words are difficult for him. Her only concern should be hearing whatever he's trying to get across and leaving so she can be with the person she actually wants to spend her night with.

He tries again, steadier this time. "Sorry, been frustrated lately. Took a bit to get my old post back."

"So that's why you're here," Addie mutters. "It helped to have you somewhere else, you know. I never even asked where you went."

She almost asks if he knows why he got transferred, but she shouldn't dangle bait like that. Addie clears her throat and imagines a wall of stone rising between them. She imagines herself untouchable.

"Anything else?"

The shadows shift again, moonlight glinting on boot buckles as Marcos leans out of the dark. Addie imagines the wall thickening, imagines a field of daggers between them and the weight of a hilt against her palm.

"Heard about your new post," Marcos mumbles. "It's no good. Thought I should tell you."

Addie stares. Is he jealous? Every word he says is heavy, like he's practiced them before. Marcos only does that when it's important, and never for anyone or anything he doesn't have some measure of care for.

Addie bounces her feet, tries to drown out the shivers crawling through her chest. "Why's that?"

Marcos inches closer again, but never wholly into the moonlight. "Miraz is ready. Anyone tied to the prince will die with him in a few months, soon as that baby's born. I figure that includes you now."

Addie freezes. Does he know about her and Caspian? If the other maids don't know, how could he? Do they know and haven't said so? Or does Marcos not know the full extent of her involvement, and he's warning her in case Miraz would go that far? She should be able to tell - she has to. There's an answer here; she just has to find it.

Addie presses against the wall until she can blame her shivers on the cool stone. "How do you figure that? I can't imagine Miraz cares much about maids."

"Tutor, friend, maid. Hell, even the stable-hand that grooms his horse. Miraz won't bother with importance or who knows what. Don't you know he got rid of the prince's nurse a while back?" Marcos' hand strays too close. He drops it back into the shadows when Addie doesn't react. "If you can get back to the kitchen and away from cleaning rooms, do it."

He doesn't know. Or he's not letting on if he does. Addie's breath comes too quickly, almost before she can catch the sigh on her lips. She swallows it back and ignores her stomach's gurgle as the air bubble slides down her throat.

"The prince's nurse?"

Marcos leans in again. "Disappeared one day fifteen years ago - no warning, no arrest. Some rumours said they sent her south, but we both know what that means."

A decade and a half of killing? Miraz has been a busy man. More importantly, no one's stopped him.

Addie curls tighter into herself. She's lived a decade in Miraz's castle. She shouldn't be surprised.

"Anything else?" The tremors deep in her muscles return so away her feet go, bouncing and jiggling under her skirt.

"Just be careful. A prince is a stupid thing to die for."

Marcos steps forward, leaving behind the shadows. The moonlight arcs across his face, highlighting the new beard covering his cheeks and chin. He must keep it trimmed now; it was still patchy and scraggly when she last saw him. He offers his hand, but Addie ignores it and stands on her own. She's just started walking away when he calls after her.

"Addie, I really am sorry."

It's the little crack in his voice that convinces her. Easy enough to miss, but an anomaly nonetheless. Marcos likes to speak in unwavering tones, as if a sure voice will hide the way he doubts his choices. Like how he confessed to wishing he'd joined the same army as his brother weeks after he'd claimed he joined Miraz's forces out of spite.

Addie blinks away the memory and finds her voice, not so strong as she wants. "I know," she whispers. "But that doesn't erase it."

When she walks away, he doesn't follow.

A/N: Sooo, taking votes on whether Marcos is sincere. What do you think, is he actually trying to help?

Chapter 13 Preview:

"I don't want to lose you without knowing every part of you." Addie's hands glide to his jaw, the heat in her palms a soft, fierce, unquenchable thing. "And you of me, I suppose."