Disclaimer: Edmund and Peter Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me. Oreius also does not belong to me. I do, however, wish I could play in Narnia.

Chapter Ten

I stood watching the stars, waiting for the dawn to come. It had been six days since we had found Zeier's cave. Six days since we had discovered the pitiful remains of Queen Susan and found King Edmund a breath away from joining her in death. Six days since the world had turned upside down.

Well, we would set about righting it, even though it would never be quite right again, especially not for my Kings and the littlest Queen, their sister. But if we could not have the Gentle Queen restored to us, we could at least bring justice for her sake.

"Aslan."

The Name came out louder than I had intended, and I glanced towards the old oak, but the colts were still huddled together against its trunk, both asleep now. Edmund still trembled, clutching his brother's shirt, and I could not help wondering if, in his sleep, he once more fought the terrors that had robbed him of his speech.

I moved closer to the two of them, my two young Kings who were hardly more than foals, and I realized the younger one was making whimpering, wordless cries. What now troubled his dreams? And had it been only my imagination before, or had he become more agitated when we asked him if the outlaws had discussed their expected destination?

I knelt and stroked his hair, quieting him. Where are they going, young one? What could their destination be to bring such fear that you could not bear to even think on it?

"Aslan," I whispered, encircling them both in my arms. "Bring Your healing to these little ones. Comfort them. Show me how to comfort them, Great Lion, and how to uphold them in the great task You have charged them with. They are but children as, in Your sight, am I. Help us bring this outlaw to justice so he may destroy no other lives with his wanton cruelty."

I looked up at the night sky, black velvet awash with silver stars, searching for some sign, for something to guide us all.

But like the dark colt, the stars were silent.

OOOOO

Six days earlier . . .

Azar released her hair from its braid and let it fall free down her back. Then she smoothed the rich, dark-plum velvet of her skirt. She had never worn so fine a gown, never so much as touched goods so costly, but she would have this one. Zeier would let her have them all when he was through with his latest toy. After all, she was his, not this other. She was his equal in boldness, the one with the wit and daring to plan his most successful raids. She was nothing like the pudding-faced little playthings he seized and then tossed away more often than he changed his shirt. Nothing like the mewling, helpless little Queen he had now.

"Little wonder they think her beauty beyond compare," she muttered as she studied her torch-lit reflection in the murky pool at the back of the cave. "Anyone can bewitch a man if she has the right clothes and jewels."

She gathered up her hair, piling it on top of her head, studying herself again before letting it fall once more down her back. No, if this so-admired Queen wore hers down, then Azar would do the same. Zeier would see this one was no better than she, no better than those others he had so quickly tired of. Then the men, perhaps some of the Beasts, would have her. Then she would not be quite so beautiful, would she?

Azar smiled at her reflection and sauntered out into the main part of the cave to where the other captive was bound. He was the pretty one, she thought, even with his mouth pulled into a cruel parody of a grin by a too-tight gag. But those eyes, those eyes that flashed dark fire when she spoke to him, she had never seen their like before. Pity he was so young. Two or three years older, and she might have had more amusement from him than just watching his reaction when she gave him her little . . . reports.

"How are you now, Little King?"

She smirked at the title she gave him. Somehow that one seemed to agitate him more than any of the vile epithets Zeier and the men used. His bloodied hands were bound above his head, high enough to force him to stand on his toes, and she noticed they were tinged blue with loss of circulation, but he still spread them wide, striving to reach her, hopeless as it was.

"Little King, Little King, have you not yet learned? The better you behave, the better you will be treated. When Zeier is ready, he will sell you both back to the High King. Perhaps not as good as new, but marketable enough."

He struggled again to reach her, those eyes again smoldering, and with a laugh, she kicked his fettered legs out from under him, leaving him dangling by his already ravaged wrists. But he did not cry out in pain. He almost never did. There was only one way she could be certain to bring a sob to his throat and tears to his eyes.

She sidled up next to him, crooning into his ear, one hand stroking his sweat-matted hair and the other toying with the bloodied shreds of his shirt. "Shall I tell you, Little King, how our Gentle Queen has spent her afternoon?"

Zeier had kept the girl to himself ever since her capture, but Azar knew him well enough. She did not have to use her imagination to describe in exquisite detail what was happening to this boy's sister and what would happen to her once Zeier tired of her.

"He will let her . . . entertain our men. Merely a little bonus for their valor in capturing such rich prizes for him. And if you are especially good, Little King, you may stay up past your bedtime and see it all."

He kicked and writhed against his bonds, and she smiled to see the frustrated tears spill down his cheeks.

"Shh, shh, shh," she soothed. "Do not be impatient, Little King. It will come soon enough. I am certain you will be eager to see your beloved sister again, such as she is, and then–"

"Azar!"

She tossed her head, smirking defiantly at Zeier as he stalked towards her, nestling closer to the boy's side, saying nothing.

"Get away from there."

She gave him only a disdainful sniff. "Why? Just because you have something to entertain you doesn't mean I am not bored."

He took her arm in an iron grip and marched her to one of the cave's side chambers, the place that served as her sleeping quarters when he was otherwise occupied. He threw her inside and stood glaring at her, his massive frame filling the opening in the rock, anger making his dark face darker still.

"I grow weary of you, Azar. Do not make me tell you again to let the boy alone."

She shrugged. "I was merely amusing myself."

"Well, that must be the last of it. His brother will ransom him, and he will soon be gone."

She eyed him warily. "What about his sister?"

He grabbed her by both wrists and shoved her against the rock wall, laughing though his eyes were cold and obsidian hard. "Jealous, my little viper?"

"Of that dainty little mouse?" She snorted and twisted out of his hold. "Hardly. I am ready to move on. Ransom them both, Zeier, and have done. The High King will no doubt be looking for them by now."

"We will be moving out soon enough. To the stronghold I have prepared for us."

"Why?" she demanded. "Why take them there? Ransom them now and have done."

"When I choose, girl. I am master here, not you."

"Arrogant fool!" she hissed. "The High King–"

He struck her a ringing blow across the face, knocking her against the rock wall. "The curse of Tash upon the High King and all his followers. I will keep what is mine until I no longer want it. Neither King nor harlot shall tell me otherwise."

At once, her dagger was out, a wicked Calormene blade that glinted in the torchlight.

"I told you I would kill you if you struck me ever again."

Laughing once more, he wrenched her arm behind her back and shoved her against the rough stone of the wall, pinning her there.

"So you have said, my little viper, time and again. And yet you always come back for more." His mouth was close to hers now, his voice no more than a low growl. "Always."

He twisted her arm higher up her back, making her cry out as he kissed her, rough and demanding, and then shoved her away with a laugh.

"Your killing will have to wait, little viper. Some other day."

He strode out of the chamber, leaving her panting and slumped against the wall. But after a moment she pushed herself upright, fingering that glittering blade.

"Your beautiful Queen will not be so fair once I have attended to her."

And the thought of what she was about to do brought a smile to her stinging lips.

Author's Note: So now we see a bit of what happened while Edmund was held captive. What do you think?