Each of them stood at the railing of the ship, the hoods on their uniform gray cloaks pulled up so their faces remained in shadow. The island loomed ominously before them, a large, dark, blot in the pinks and golds of the fading twilight. The sweetly sensuous smell of the Tree of Ahreddan grew stronger still. Reminiscent and intoxicating. The sea sprayed them with a gentle kiss of salt water as the sailors rigged the masts or rowed or whatever it was sailors did.
All Edmund could think about was revenge.
He pictured Kemen's throat in under his foot, the traitor's eyes bulging and face turning blue. Or perhaps he would simply run him through with a broadsword. No, too simple. Kemen did not deserve an easy death. Maybe he would just tie him down and make thousands of simple cuts all over Kemen's body and let him bleed to death. Slow and painful. The king's eyes lit up at the thought.
Edmund grinned.
Why am I here? Peter asked himself once more. I have no real quarrel with these people. There is absolutely no need for me to fight. If I'm killed...Narnia cannot have a seven-year-old girl as the High Queen. Aslan knows, she'll make her first royal decree about petting zoos and chocolate.
Her home. Right there. Exactly the same as she remembered it. What had she been expecting? A world of chaos that was what: hearing the clang of steel against steel, canon blasts, full fledged war. In fact, it was very quiet. Seeing it now, unchanged (at least from this distance)...
Maybe Killian was not such a bad king after all...
No matter. She was still going to kill him.
A/N: yeah i know, its just something short about what they're thinking before i finally get into the good part.