I peered around the corner, my candle guttering in the draft I created. As quiet as a mouse on very thick carpets, I crept out of the shallow alcove I had been hiding in and tip-toed down the corridor. Halfway down, I passed Susan's room, next to Lucy's.

As I neared the door to her chambers, I slowed down, trying to decrease the noise my clothes made as I navigated the halls of Cair Paravel. I even held my breath. I knew from past experience that Susan was an extremely light sleeper.

Back in England, during the atrocities of the Blitz, before the very first plane had flown over Finchley, she was awake, ushering us all into our Anderson shelter even before the air raid sirens had started. The neighbours knew exactly when a Luftwaffe raid was approaching; all they had to do was listen out for the Pevensie family complaining to Susan about how "the sirens haven't even started yet! C'mon, let us go back to bed!" and "How can you hear things like that? You're a head case!"

I froze. Had I heard something, deep in Susan's chambers?

But no; it was my ears playing tricks on me. Susan hadn't woken up. I walked on, releasing my breath silently. It was a relief that she hadn't woken up. I didn't want her to know where I was going tonight.

I looked at the beautiful paintings hanging on the white marble walls. Most of them had been imported from Calormen on Susan's orders, being as she had commandeered the re-decoration of Cair Paravel after our coronation. Seeing the ferocious glint in her eyes, none of us had been brave enough to wrest back control. She was brilliant at organising parties, social events, decorating, anything - you name it.

I sighed. Thinking of Susan reminded me of the aftermath of our previous argument.

My sister had had nothing to do with me after our fight in the infirmary. She would speak to me only when forced, but even during royal business or ordinary mundane things like breakfast or tea she refused to speak to me. She abhorred being in the same room as me, involved in the same things, anything. We'd had several awkward silences, and several cold, demeaning spats over it.

"Susan, could you pass the butter please?" I said in my politest most grown – up voice.

She ignored me and carried on eating her bread – and – jam.

The whole room seemed to tense up. All eyes were between me and my sister, like a tennis match. Edmund put down his bread slowly. Lucy looked at us anxiously, her eyes wide and unblinking.

"Susan?" I said, a cold tingling feeling beginning at the pit of my stomach.

"Oh, sorry Pete, didn't hear you. What was it you wanted?" These words may've sounded perfectly polite and charming, but they cut me to the bone. Her tone was condescending and cruel, and once again her mouth was distorted into a grimace. It was a malicious parody of her normal exquisite smile.

I put down my supper. I didn't feel hungry anymore.

That was the most recent quarrel we'd had. But deep in my heart, I knew there was more quarrelling to come.

However, I repulsed these unpleasant memories and focused my mind on the task at hand; making my way to my destination, the infirmary.

I had to see Edmund again. And since going anywhere near the infirmary attracted the attention of either my siblings or anxious courtiers or subjects, I had resorted to good old fashioned subterfuge; or, in plain English, doing some rather neat deception. I crept around after everyone'd gone to bed, just for a few minutes alone with my sleeping brother.

I didn't go near him in the day. I couldn't; regal responsibilities prohibited me.

I resented that. I resented that I couldn't see my own brother because I had to sort out some stupid little squabble for people who couldn't sort it out themselves, or some great matter of state. Sometimes, being a High King, with that title's responsibility, just made me so angry.

I was getting closer to the infirmary now. I could smell the faint scent of herbs, mixed with the sweet flowery fragrance of jasmine.

There! A short distance away, the robust form of the carved wooden doors emerged out of the gloom of night. I had reached my objective.

I blew out my candle impatiently and then dumped it on the nearest flat surface: a small Galmanian ornamental table. Someone would find in the morning.

Quickening my pace to a frantic jog I reached the infirmary. The scent of herbs grew stronger, so much so that I could distinguish rosemary and thyme from the heady mix of intoxicating aroma filling the air around me. Inhaling deeply, I pushed open the heavy doors. The hinges made no sound; they were well – oiled as to not disturb the patients from their fevered rest.

Suddenly I felt nervous. A deep panic resonated through my heart and belly. Why was I doing this? I was High King; couldn't I just order some time off to visit my brother? It was unlikely that I wouldn't get what I want, so there was even less reason to skulk around at night!

Then it hit me.

It was more fun to do it this way, rather than take time out of my schedule to visit the infirmary. Normal life was so boring, so repetitive, I wanted a thrill. This was my thrill. It would not last forever, though, but when it did I would find something else to do.

Unlike Edmund.

Edmund had had his thrill. His definitely couldn't last forever. But Edmund didn't want to find something new, or there was just nothing else that interested him. He didn't want to move on.

But he had to.

And me and Susan and Lucy would help him with that.

But now I needed to stop worrying about that, and get on with what I was there for. I didn't feel quite as panicky as I did before.

I snuck into the long, empty ward. The beds were made up, ready for any patients that needed a bed. A few even had fresh flowers in glass vases on the bedside table. That must've been the aroma of jasmine that I could smell, I realised.

Edmund had been moved into another bed, the day after my brief verbal skirmish with Susan, with a bit more privacy from the rest of the ward. It was positioned at the far end of the ward, with a pre – assembled wall of wood surrounding it. The wall had a crude door at the east side, which was locked with a key that only a few select people had a copy of. Those people were me and my family, the royal nurse and royal physician. I had had the foresight to bring this key along with me. I used it now.

The door slid open shakily. I saw, lying still as a corpse, my brother. Edmund.

Every time I saw him it was a shock. I still couldn't believe that he was still a fully functioning human being after what he had been through.

I crossed the floor like a ghost. I didn't want to wake him.

From the light of the moon, I could see that his freckles were fading with the lack of sunlight. His skin was even paler than usual, his black hair glossy in the moonlight. As I examined him further, I noticed the dark grey - black circles under his eyes. He looked exhausted.

Edmund's hand lay on the bedcovers next to his hip. Surprising myself, I leaned forward and grabbed his hand. It was icy cold, but strangely, it emitted gentle warmth. I wondered why.

As I pondered the possible theories, I did not notice that Edmund's brows had knitted together; his skin had become sweatier and flushed with a faint redness. His muscles contracted and relaxed. His hand released itself from my grip, coming to rest beside his head.

I stared at Edmund with increasing anxiety. He seemed to be getting more and more agitated, and I could do nothing to stop it. I tried shaking him, whispering his name, everything. He wouldn't wake up.

Now I was becoming extremely distressed. I held his wrists in both hands, whilst trying to soothe him. I murmured lullabies in his ear. I did everything I could.

Then Edmund started to whimper, over and over again. "Peter!" he cried. He sounded like he was suffering, in terrible pain. "Peter!" he cried again.

"Shush, Ed…It's alright, I'm here." I soothed.

"Peter…" At this he calmed down considerably. His breathing turned to normal, and his brows flattened out.

It was then I noticed I was crying. Tears were streaming down my face onto Edmund's hands. I made no attempt to wipe them away.

Edmund's eyes fluttered open.

"Peter?"

There, another cliff - hanger!

Tell me how you liked it.

~PearlsOfWisdom