I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. They own me. Really, really sorry for the pace this is going at. I'll try to go quicker in the future. Slap me if it takes too long next time.

There was a bit of a blank silence in which Lucy's mouth dropped open a little, Edmund blinked and Peter stared unresponsively at the floor. Quick to recover, Edmund raised one eyebrow and remarked,

"You're looking very well for a dead man."

A hissing, squeaking laugh made its way out from the king's lips, but Lucy didn't hear any joy in it. He seemed to (accurately) suspect that Edmund was mocking him. Lucy, worried that Edmund would offend their hosts and well aware that there were about ten times as many palace guards as there were Pevensies, silently willed her short-tempered brother to think about what he was saying before he put them all in danger. But she needn't have fretted; a minute later he was back to the almost worryingly businesslike attitude he'd held for the past few days.

"Your Highness," said Edmund respectfully. "We are weary travelers; whether or not you believe us royalty it matters little. Thank you for your hospitality thus far. We come in search of our sister, and would like to ask you if she has passed through your realm."

The king stared at them for a minute (or at least, Lucy thought he stared, but his eyes were so shadowed that she couldn't be sure), then spoke again. His voice made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

"Where have you come from?" he wheezed.

"We have traveled quite far," said Edmund curtly.

"How did you come here?"

There was a pause, and Lucy stiffened. She could tell exactly what Edmund was thinking because it was the same thing she was thinking – both were remembering the hungry look on the face of the first man they'd encountered when he'd seen her ring. It was a secret she was loathe to part with. Edmund's eyes darted to her, then to Peter, then back to the strange king before he set his face again and said in an unreadable voice,

"We have journeyed on foot."

"Liar!"

This voice was different – though it was still raspy and weak, it seemed to come from very many places at once, as if the very stones of the room refused to believe him. The dead king had pointed a repulsively long arm at them, claw-like fingernails extended in clear accusation. Lucy saw her brother flinch slightly, though he did not step back, and even Peter looked up in mild surprise. She herself had jumped at the sudden, strange noise. Edmund faltered for words.

"We…ah…apologies, Your Majesty," he said at last, inclining his head. "The truth is…quite complicated. We do not wish to bore you with the details of our journey; all we desire is to find our sister."

The king leered across the room at them, managing to seem as if he were looking down on them even though he was too far away to really do so.

"It will not bore me," he reassured them in a cold, rasping voice.

Edmund looked back at Lucy and Peter uncertainly. To Lucy's slight relief, Peter stepped forward and took a stand next to his younger brother, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"My brother did not lie when he said we have traveled far," he said quietly, but firmly. "We come from another world, a country called Narnia. We have come to this world through use of a special magic."

"Go on," said the king, taking a seat and folding his skeletal fingers. Peter hesitated, so the dead man supplied, "How would you use this magic?"

Edmund and Lucy watched Peter, nervously anticipant.

"We…" the High King began, then stopped. He sighed.

"I will know if you lie."

There was a silence.

"Rings," said Peter at last.

"And these rings," said the king interestedly. He leaned forward and the dim light reflected off his crown, which Lucy suddenly realized was made of bone. "Will they allow you out of this world as well?"

"Yes," said Edmund. He and Peter shared a look.

"But our sister," said Lucy, speaking up for the first time. Everyone in the room turned their focus to her. "Please, sir. Have you seen her?"

The king leaned back in his throne, his face again cast into shadow. He spread his nauseating hands wide in an expansive gesture.

"Many pass through my realm," he grated. "I would not know of her. You have my leave to search anywhere in this castle."

And the guards stepped in front of him, crossing their spears to show that the meeting was over. Peter and Edmund turned back to Lucy, all three sharing a worried glance before they made their way out of the throne room and back into the hallway. The doors slammed shut behind them. The grotesquely skinny people of the castle drifted past the closed doorway like a stream, flowing around the Pevensies as if they were bothersome rocks dropped into the current. Quickly, they wandered back to a less busy corridor and formed a triangle to confer.

"So what do we do? Just randomly look?" asked Edmund, leaning against the wall and folding his arms over his chest.

"Do we have a choice?" muttered Peter sullenly.

"Let's just do it," said Lucy earnestly. She looked up at her brothers. "Look for a little while and then if we can't find her, we'll just…I don't know. Go from there?"

"Sure," said Edmund, sighing. "Wonderful. And we can have Sir Zombie breathing down our necks, waiting to pick our pockets while we're at it, how's that?"

"Have you got a better idea?" said Peter. Edmund didn't reply.

"Right," said Lucy. "So…shall we go?"

"I'll take left if you'll take right," muttered Edmund. Peter looked doubtful.

"I don't know about splitting up…" he said reluctantly. "We don't know what these people want from us."

"All they want is our fresh, living flesh," said Edmund darkly. "What could we possibly have to worry about?"

"We'll be okay. If anything goes wrong, we'll scream," said Lucy reassuringly. Peter did not look comforted, but he seemed unwilling to start an argument over the issue, so they settled on their territories – Peter would search the stables and courtyards, Edmund would search the cellars and the kitchens, and Lucy would search around the bedchambers. Lucy bid her brothers good luck, though she was feeling less than optimistic, and set off down the hallway.

The scream didn't come for another half hour.