A/N: I know, I know, mega delay in update. But a lot's been going on with my family right now with weddings, funerals and board exams. I couldn't have time to write. Plus, I'm still stuck on the ideas for Edmund's story so I'm sending off Susan first.

Chapter Nine

Prisoner at the Tower

"How did you get inside the castle?" the man insisted.

She shook her head. "I already told you, I don't know!" she cried. "I don't remember."

The man huffed. "Don't remember? Or you refuse to tell us, you filthy little thief!"

His words stung her and fresh tears fell down her cheeks. This interrogation had been going on for hours.

Earlier that evening, she had been taken by guards to this spare room on top of a high tower after the young man who found her with the horn raised the alarm. Here the young man who she assumed must be a prince or a king based on his royal robes and the gold crown on his head began to ask her questions: What was she doing in the royal throne room of Archenland? Who was she? Why did she try to steal the horn?

She could not utter a word in answer as she was too confused. There were too many questions raging in her own head. She could not remember anything that happened before she was staring at the painting of the young monarch.

"Just tell me the truth," the young king/prince said. He had kind eyes and she hated the idea that he thought she was someone dishonest. "You don't look like a thief," he said, noting her white gown. In fact she was dressed just as splendidly as he was, maybe even more so. "You're only a child. Has someone put you up to do this?"

She thought that surely, this was all a misunderstanding. The young royal would know she was innocent, as she was sure she was, though she had no recollection of what happened to her before. But she never got to give an answer to her defense. The door of the room banged open and in walked an older man. He was probably past his forties, with a bit of grey streak on his neatly cut hair. He walked straight and confident. But his face was grim and hard. Whatever hope she had of being understood and set free ended when she saw him. The nightmare began.

"Minister Barrin, I'm sorry if you were bothered at this time of night. But you need not have come."

"It's no bother, my king," he said. "Duty chooses no time and I came voluntarily as soon as I heard." The older man stared at her with his those steel grey eyes of his and she cowered with fright. "Is this the little thief then?" His gaze rested on her face and he seemed to be taken aback. Then his eyes traveled downwards and settled on her breast. Her heart hammered and she stepped back and crossed her arms across her chest protectively.

He suddenly came forward and grasped the hem of her dress. She gave a cry and made a move to push his hand away but he let go abruptly.

"Narnian silk," the minister said. "Quite rare and very expensive since the Narnians stopped producing them for export for almost a hundred years. Only royalty in Archenland can wear these now. Where did you get it?"

"I don't know," she whispered.

"LIAR!" he roared. "You stole it didn't you? Perhaps from one of the royal wardrobes!"

"Barrin," said the young king. "I've never seen that dress before. I'm sure my mother never had one like it. And if she did, it would probably look old, this one looks like it's brand new."

"That doesn't mean she didn't steal it from some other noble lady's chest." He stopped and a gleam came on his eye that made her shudder. "Take it off!"

She blushed hard and fresh tears came down her cheeks.

"Take it off!" the cruel minister repeated.

"Barrin, is that really necessary?" asked the king.

"Well, it is if we are to return it to its proper owner, Sire. We can ask the ladies of the court if any one of them owns the dress. So take it off now!"

"P-please… don't…" She turned her gaze to the king and pleaded for his intervention. Fortunately he did.

"Barrin, be reasonable," said the king. "We can't have her well…" He blushed himself. "We ought to spare the girl some honour."

"Alright then, send for some common garments, and let her change into that."

The king sent one of the guards and in a few minutes they returned with plain cotton peasant's dress that had seen better days. The king seemed to understand her predicament and ordered everyone out of the room for a few minutes so she could change in private. The dress wasn't as warm as her gown or as comfortable but she was grateful at least that she was allowed common decency. But when the men returned after she was dressed, the Minister snatched her white gown from her hands and examined it.

"The embroidery here is quite elaborate. That could just double the price if it is just a plain Narnian silk dress," remarked the Minister. He turned to her again. "I repeat the question: where did you steal it?"

"I didn't steal it!"

"Then where did you get it?"

"I don't know," she cried.

The Minister continued to eye her warily. His eyes gleamed at a sudden idea. "Or perhaps, you didn't steal it at all…"

"What do you mean?" asked the king.

"Oh your highness, I think we are dealing with something more dangerous here. Perhaps she is a spy, a Calormene spy."

The king snorted. "A spy? Look at her skin. Does she look anyway like a Calormene to you?"

"Your highness, do not be so deceived. You think that Calormenes are not clever enough to use a race of our own for a spy? Why they could easily get a white slave from Terebinthia and pass her off as a duchess in Archenland."

The king shook his head. "But she's just a child. She can't be more than fifteen years."

"Then the Calormenes are even more clever than we thought," replied the minister. "Who would suspect a child?" He eyed her again. "Oh they could train them so young."

And so the interrogation went on. At length, she grew tired from standing. The king offered to let her sit down, but the minister told her otherwise. So she remained standing without even a wall to lean on. The cruel minister shot her so many questions: Who did she work for? Where did she come from? What information was she supposed to retrieve?

She only shook her head and repeated the truth: she knew nothing.

"Please, please, I'm not lying," she begged when she could stand no longer. She suspected it was nearing daylight. She looked to the king who looked just as tired as she was.

"Perhaps we can continue this some other time, Barrin," he said.

"Nonsense," said the cruel older man. "When she reaches her breaking point, she will crack and we'll have the truth out. But if you're tired your majesty, I understand. You may leave me to continue this." He had the gleam in his eye again and his gaze drifted to her bosom. She knew immediately she would not be safe with this man. Her gaze shifted to the king and she begged him with her eyes not to leave her alone.

The king looked sadly at her and she could see hope of her salvation there. He seemed to desperately want to believe her and was reluctant to leave her in such a state.

"Perhaps a little refreshment and a seat," he said. "The girl has been standing for hours."

The minister however, shook his head but said condescendingly. "Your highness, you are young yet and only had been king for three months. Not that I doubt your abilities Sire, but there are things you are yet to know. These things are unpleasant, but are essential for the security of the kingdom. But at the moment, I would gladly take them for you. You may retire ahead."

Panic rose in her. And she came forward to clutch at the king's sleeve. "Please! Please! Don't go! Don't leave me!"

The king placed a hand upon hers to calm her, but the minister wrenched her away and pushed her violently aside. She hit the wall and collapsed to the floor. Her arm, she knew was bruised on the impact and her shoulders would bear bruises from the minister's tight grip.

"Keep your distance, Sire," warned minister to the king who made a move to help her up. "She could be dangerous."

She couldn't prevent tears from pouring down her cheeks but she struggled to keep from whimpering. Oh Aslan! She gasped inwardly and she felt a surge of hope rise within her. She remembered with relief, the face of that Great Lion. She remembered his loving breath, his strong yet gentle voice and the feel of his fur on her as she rode him with… She couldn't remember. But for now it was enough. And she felt as if his familiar voice was telling her: "Fear not, daughter. I will protect you."

The door suddenly burst open and a page came in.

"Your majesty!"

"What now?" thundered Barrin irritably.

The page cowered a little but faced the king. "Begging pardon, Sire, but it's urgent. Calormen has just declared war."

Immediately, the tension in the room rose. She saw the king's face whiten as a sheet and he swallowed hard. It took him a long moment to compose himself.

"Barrin," he said when he finally recovered. "We must go down now. We have to meet with our advisors and generals."

"Of course, Sire. But the girl…"

The king looked at her. "Later, we'll deal with her later."

"Of course," replied Barrin and he followed the king and his guards out of the cell. But before he did, he cast a malevolent glance at her and she knew she was only safe from him for the moment.

When she heard the lock of the door click, it was only then that she let herself sink to the floor and sob. She cried until she could cry no more. The sun finally rose and its rays filtered into her cell from the large window. She got up and looked out. The view here was breath-taking. She could see the lovely gardens of the palace below, a few smaller towers and the courtyard. Farther off was the city. She could discern the market at a distance and she could see people walking around like ants, beginning a new day. From the position of the sun, she knew that the window faced south. Her line of vision ended with the mountain ranges. She knew, as if by instinct, that the two peaks she could glimpse was Mt. Pire and farther off she knew was the great desert where Calormen lay. She wondered if perhaps the minister had spoken the truth. That she was indeed a Calormene spy. But try as she would recall anything about Calormen, she could think of nothing.

A bell suddenly tolled. It was a like an alarm, urgently calling on everyone. She remembered the page's message and realized this was a country readying itself for war. She recalled the king's face when he had heard the news and somehow she felt a sense of pity for him. How apprehensive he must be now? How frightened is he for his people. It struck her as funny that she could somehow relate to his situation as if she had been in such a position herself too.

She sang softly to herself, partly to amuse her, partly to prevent her hopelessness from depressing her further. She sang many songs that seem to come to her on the impulse and for a while it relieved her of her misery and boredom. But as the hours dragged on, Boredom was no longer her primary concern, but hunger and thirst. She slept at noon to relieve the ache but when she woke up at sunset, she felt doubly hungry and miserable. By evening, the tower grew cold and dark. It was rather fortunate that there was a moon or else she had no light at all. She sat by the window, watching stars while hugging herself by the knees.

It was probably late evening at her estimate, when the silence of her surroundings was disturbed by the sound of footsteps climbing up the stairs that led to her door. She quietly moved towards the door, awaiting apprehensively on who would come up.

Oh Aslan, don't let it be that horrible minister, she prayed

The footsteps came to stop outside her door. She could not see of course who was there but she could hear someone pacing around, as if unsure whether or not to enter. She put her ear to the door to listen.

"What am I doing here?" she heard a soft male voice whisper, followed by a deep sigh. "Oh Aslan, what do I do?"

The person's mention of Aslan assured her somehow and she wondered if perhaps she could talk to this person. She was sure he was not the malicious minister. She noticed that the bottom of the door had some sort of a small window, big enough only for something like food to slide in. Curiosity of the person's identity won her over and she slowly slid the door slightly.

She had a view of a pair of boots that kept pacing around. It went on for quite a while, when the boots suddenly stopped and the owner sat down on the ground, his back to her door. He recognized immediately the royal robes of the young king.

Summoning her courage, she spoke up. "Hello?" she began tentatively.

The king startled and noticed her little window. "How did you…" He composed himself and stared at her. "Have you been listening there the whole time?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." Then it struck her how hungry she was and how cruel he was to leave her here in the dark without any nourishment. She was suddenly angry at him. She got up from the floor and shouted. "I wasn't listening! I thought someone was coming up to torture me."

"Torture you?" he shouted back. "I don't torture little girls!"

"No, you only starve them to death!" she said sharply.

"I don't starve… wait, didn't anyone come up here since I left to give you anything?"

"No," she replied.

"You mean, no one's fed you anything?"

"No," she repeated softly.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Wait! I'll be right back!"

She heard his footsteps scamper down the steps. Several minutes later his footsteps returned. But she could hear more than one pair of feet coming after him. She slid the little window open again, but she felt a jingle of keys.

"Stand back!" he ordered. "Put your back by the wall near the window."

Now she was frightened. She wanted to hit herself for speaking so boldly to him. Maybe he was insulted and perhaps now he would kill her. But nevertheless, she did as was told and came to stand at the wall as far from the door as possible.

The door burst open and the king was there followed by two guards. He ordered them to stand by at the door. Only the king went in and closed the door.

"Do you promise to behave yourself?" he asked her.

She nodded, not knowing what he would do.

He lay a bottle of wine and a bundle of cloth in the middle of the floor, then stepped back. "Go on," he said, indicating his offering.

She puzzled but came forward and opened the bundle. It was a half a dozen meat pies, some cheese, a few pieces of fruit and a cup—for the wine, she realized. Her heart melted.

"Thank you," she said. She took one of the pies and ate it, slowly. Even though she was famished, she knew her manners and even remembered to offer some to the king.

"Go on, it's all yours. Just keep your distance," he added cautiously. "Just to remind you, if you're planning to escape while I'm not looking, I have guards outside."

"I wasn't planning to," she said. Did he think she was stupid? No king would be foolish enough to be alone with a prisoner.

That appeared to assure him a little and he went to the large window and glanced out, sighing. For a long time neither of them spoke. The king kept glancing outside the window, deep in thought. She wondered why he was even here at all of all places but she dared not ask. Even after she finished her meal, his silence went on. It was killing her. A song came into her head and she began to sing:

Great Lion of the east

King of all Narnian beasts

Hear your children left in cold

Give them faith, strength to hold

Deliver your people from death's jaws

Shelter them under your powerful paws

Bathe them in your breath of life

Ease their pain and end their strife

"Are you mocking me?" the king suddenly interrupted, stopping her song.

"I'm sorry…"

"Why did you sing that song? How do you know it?" he demanded.

She shook her head. "I just know it by instinct. I don't know why, it just came to me."

"Where did you learn it then?"

"I don't know. I'm not lying. I don't even know what it is. I just know it's about Aslan…"

The king appraised her carefully. "It's a supplication hymn to Aslan sang by Archenlander and Narnian royalty, usually in times of trouble, particularly war." He paused again with a bewildered expression. "Who are you?"

She sighed. "Believe me, I would give anything to know, my lord," she replied. "Forgive me if I have offended you with the song," she added politely.

He shook his head. "No… no… I'm not offended. Sing it again."

So she did. When she finished, she repeated the song. By the third repeat, the king had joined her though his voice wasn't as pleasant as hers. It was rather hoarse and he was more often out of tune, making her conclude that he was hopeless as a singer. Still, he sang as if he was conveying a prayer and that touched her.

He stopped abruptly and she noticed tears glistening in his eyes though he was struggling not to show them.

"Are you alright, your highness?" she asked, understanding that he was now facing war.

He shook his head. "You wouldn't understand," he said.

"That you are worried your country is in peril?" she said. "That Calormen will take over, take your citizens as slaves and have you killed?"

He looked at her with surprise. "And what do you know about that? Have you come to spy on my country? You're a little late in delivering news to them then. Calormen has already declared war. Their army is now preparing to march through the desert. They will be here in a month, perhaps even less. I will be ready though. I have my own forces who can meet them. But I suppose you won't be able to tell them that anymore."

She rolled her eyes at him. Who was he fooling? For all his smug words, she knew he was scared out of his mind. The man—boy was practically displaying his feelings out on his sleeve. She knew that was a weakness and probably would cost him his kingdom even if he did have a good army. For what army would follow someone who was obviously afraid?

"I don't need to tell them anything. If you look like that in front of your troops, you might as well welcome the Calormene army to your gates."

His eyes immediately flashed dangerously at her. "Are you suggesting I'm a coward?"

She knew she shouldn't be upsetting this person as he held her life in his hands, but she couldn't help but retort back: "No, but I think you need a lesson at looking brave."

He glared at her.

She smiled at him. "There. Keep that face up, and perhaps there's hope for you yet."

"You seem to know so much about this? Why? Have you been trained in battle?"

She shook her head. "I don't know, I don't remember."

"And so we fall back into the old excuse," he said in that irritating cynical manner.

"It's not an excuse. I'm telling you the truth!"

He huffed. "We shall see." He looked about to leave but stopped halfway to the door. "What do you mean that I need a lesson in looking brave?"

He was annoying and she was glad for another go at him: "Haven't you heard of intimidation? Battles are half-won by appearances. If you have to go into battle, at least have the appearance of a victor. It would assure your troops at the least. Did not your father ever teach you that as the king?"

"No, he never had a chance to, we were always at peace."

"Then he was probably a great diplomat then," she said. She decided to leave it at that and not attach the insulting 'unlike you' at the end.

"He was…" he gave a sigh. "Not like me." His humble admission surprised her.

He stared back out into the window. "I wasn't meant to be king, but of course you already know that. Everyone knows that," he said sadly. She was suddenly guilty for mocking him. He truly looked ashamed of himself.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

The king eyed her warily. "Either you are pretending to be dumb or you never listen to news. I'm Colin, the accidental king of Archenland!" he said with hard sarcasm and a matching scowl.

She just gave him a confused expression.

He returned her gaze with one of exasperation. "Alright fine. For your sake—even though you may be pretending to not know anything about this—I'll tell it. I'm not my brother. I'm not Col. He was supposed to be king. He was born to be king and he had everything that could make him a good king. He was the brilliant one, the handsome one, the charismatic one—"

"The better singer?" she couldn't help but ask.

He glared at her but she could see he was trying hard not to chuckle. He finally hid it with a snort. It took him a moment to compose himself then continued on his rant. "It was supposed to be him, not me. I was meant to be a soldier, a general perhaps in the future—the one who fights, not the one who makes inspiring speeches or brings the entire responsibility of the country on his shoulders. But Col had to die the same day as my father and I'm left to pick everything up." He slumped against the wall with a defeated expression. "I never wanted this. If I could get them back, I would." He seemed close to tears but he turned to her again with a fierce look. "There, if you ever escape and go back to your master—whoever he is—you can have a good laugh and tell him of this weakling of a king. But I grant you, you won't escape not unless I have fallen to my death and my kingdom is conquered. Because I will die first before I let the Calormenes take Archenland."

She eyed him sadly. "You're not weak, just human," she said gently. She wanted so much to comfort this poor boy. He looked so young. He reminded her of someone else—someone she knew intimately who was placed in a similar situation where he was suddenly given with so much responsibility. But again, she couldn't remember who it was.

The king didn't reply and for a long time they were both quiet. Finally he said: "Sing that hymn again, please."

And she did. When she finished the king strode towards the door but he stopped halfway to look back at her. "I'll send for a bed for you tonight and some blankets. Is there anything else I could get for you?" he asked.

She thought for a while and realized she hated to be left here with nothing to do.

"A book, please. Something to pass the time."

He nodded. "You shall have it." And he left the door and shut the door gently, leaving her alone again but with much to think of.

A/N: A note about war: in Hollywood films, it's like as soon as one declares war, you have the army at the enemy's gates. In reality, in medieval warfare, it takes several weeks to get a large army up and running and it takes even more time to travel. I thought maybe that from the time Calormen declares war with Archenland, they need at least a month to get there. In the Horse and His Boy, it's different. Prince Rabadash took only about a few days to get to Anvard because he only brought a small troop intending to seize Anvard and go from there to Narnia.