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.

SORTILEGE

Has Your Majesty considered there may be dark magic at work here?

Susan had scarcely been able to get Sootquill's words off her mind since she had first heard them a week ago.

The old Owl had sat perched on the back of a chair on the far side of Lucy's stifling bedchamber, blinking at Susan in the unaccustomed daylight. "If there is no natural cause for Queen Lucy's illness, we must consider an unnatural one."

Cerise, the Cherry Dryad healer who tended Lucy, had looked at the floor, her delicate face pensive. "I have hesitated to say so, My Queen, especially after– after this morning, but we have no other explanation for you. We have come to the end of our wisdom, and that is why we have sent for Sootquill."

Susan had pressed her lips together, not wanting to think about the dead Dwarf who had been found in the wine cellar earlier that day. It was all she could do to deal with things here.

Sootquill had bowed his head and blinked his yellow eyes again. "If it is dark magic, then it is beyond the wisdom of my people as well. You must send for Stormseer, the Centaur who lives above Caldron Pool. It may be that Aslan will give him a vision or some word of wisdom to tell us how to help Queen Lucy and, perhaps, who is using black sorcery against her."

"Sorcery," Susan had breathed, instinctively reaching for Peter's hand beside her. "Who could be doing such a thing? And against Lucy?"

His hand had trembled and there had been a flicker of uncertain fear in his expression, but then it had gone, replaced by kingly resolve.

"We'll send to Stormseer," he had said. "Windswift will take the message. He's the fastest of all our Falcons."

Edmund had glanced over at the motionless sleeper bundled up in the bed. "No matter how quickly we send, Stormseer may not answer for some time. That is if he sends us an answer at all. He doesn't command the stars or Aslan any more than we do. There must be something we can find out about this too."

His eyes had been darker than ever in his pale face, his expression stoic, unreadable. There had been a trace of sweat on his upper lip, but Susan had been sure that was caused by the excessive warmth of the room. The fire was kept blazing in here now, night and day, though it seemed to do Lucy little good. Nothing seemed to.

"It is the only course to follow," Sootquill had said. "There is nothing more we know to do, and we must do something or Her Majesty will slowly freeze to death."

Now a week had passed. A week since they had sent to Stormseer the Centaur. A week since the body of the Black Dwarf had been found. Lucy hadn't wakened at all since then.

Susan added more wood to the already roaring fire and patted the perspiration from her forehead. The room was sweltering, but, under half a dozen blankets, Lucy still shivered.

"How is she today, Su?" Peter asked, his voice low.

Susan turned to see her brothers stealing up to the bedside, both searching Lucy's almost-colorless face for any sign of change. There was none. There had been none.

"The same," Susan replied. "Always the same. Is the hearing over?"

Peter nodded.

Susan didn't like the look that passed between her brothers. "And what was the finding?"

"Willful murder." Edmund's smile was grim. "No surprise there, not with his neck snapped like that."

Peter sank into the chair next to Lucy's bedside. "They haven't charged anyone yet."

"You mean they haven't charged me yet," Edmund said, still with that grim smile.

"There's no proof against you, Ed," Peter reminded him, sounding more weary than certain, and Edmund's smile faltered just the slightest bit.

"But I am the most likely suspect, and I can't honestly say the idea of breaking the fool's neck didn't appeal to me right from the start. Admit it. If I weren't a King here, I'd already be charged." The smile turned into a smirk. "If I had been presiding today, I'd have charged me."

Susan searched his dark eyes. That was so like Edmund, the smirk, the black humor, the flicker of something behind them. Pain? Fear? Guilt? He wasn't hiding something, was he? It had been so long since he had betrayed them to the White Witch, surely he couldn't– But she hadn't thought he could possibly betray them that first time either.

No, she wouldn't think that of him. That had been ten years ago, when he had been just an angry, hurting, frightened child, seduced with lies and sweets and magic by the mistress of deception. Had he not proven himself over and over since that time? Had he not through years of patient toil won a reputation for truth and justice throughout Narnia and beyond? Had he not given himself over and over again, even to the point of death, for his kingdom? For his family? For Aslan?

She surprised him by dropping a kiss into his hair. "Then I'm glad you weren't presiding today."

There was something heartbreakingly grateful in his eyes before he hid it with a scowl. "Maybe it would be better if I were charged. At least that way we wouldn't have everyone thinking we're all covering something up."

"So we just won't mind what they think." She kept her voice crisp, allowing for no nonsense. "Some will think that no matter what you do."

He shrugged. "Nothing from Stormseer I suppose."

"No." Susan sighed. "Not a word yet. Nothing from Windswift either. All we know is that he reached Caldron Pool without any trouble."

"There has to be something else we can do." He pressed one hand to Lucy's white forehead. "Come on, Lu. Time to wake up now."

Lucy never stirred, and he caught a shuddering little breath before turning back to Susan, that grim smile once more on his face. "I, uh– There are some things I need to see to, if you'll both excuse me."

He touched his lips to Lucy's cheek and, before Susan or Peter could say anything, he was gone.

Susan turned to her older brother. "I assume he had rather a hard time at the hearing."

Peter nodded. "The rumors are getting worse. Some of the things that were said– It was rather brutal, to tell the truth."

"I hope you said something."

He shook his head vaguely. "What could I say?"

Susan pressed her lips together, not sure if she was confused, afraid or angry. "What could you say? Peter, you're the High King. You more than anyone know how important your support is in this. You know how important it is to him."

Peter winced, and she almost wanted to slap him for the bewildered look in his eyes. It was unfair, she knew it was, especially with him still fighting headaches and increasingly terrible nightmares, but she was tired of having to deal with that. She needed him to be strong. With Lucy so sick and with all the problems surrounding Edmund, she needed Peter to be the rock he had always been for her. She needed him to be the High King.

Instead, he just seemed, she couldn't precisely say what, almost dazed much of the time. If he hadn't had Sir Gilfrey's help, she wasn't sure Peter could have managed any of his duties.

She took a deep breath and forced herself to be calm. "Tell me about the hearing."

"Edmund did testify," Peter said. "He says he was looking for the Dwarf that day but never saw him again. The Badger who found the body remembers seeing Glawkin in the kitchens, and he remembers Edmund asking about him not too long afterwards, but that's all. One of the Robins remembers seeing the Dwarf near the stables, but no one else seems to have seen anything."

"And no one else had any reason to kill him? No one but Edmund?"

"No one we know of at this point."

"But that doesn't mean Edmund–"

"I know. I know." Peter rubbed his eyes. "I don't like to think it either, Su. I don't think it can be true, but it is possible. We have to be logical about this."

"Be fair, too," Susan pled. "There's no proof he did it either."

"That's what people will think." Peter forced a tight smile. "But you're right. Glawkin was a nasty piece of work, if you ask me. There had to be lots of volunteers for the job of making away with him."

Susan knew the smile on her own face was no more convincing than his. "I'm sure there must have been. Edmund just couldn't–"

She was interrupted by a soft knock at the door and went to see who it was.

"Good afternoon, Fair Queen." Sir Gilfrey bowed and kissed her hand. "Pardon the disturbance, but I thought perhaps the High King– Ah, Your Majesty." He bowed this time to Peter. "About those ships. King Lune has confirmed that he never–"

"Tomorrow, Gil, all right?" Peter sighed, and for a moment he looked very, very young. "Can we let it wait till tomorrow?"

"As you say, My King. It is nothing that will not keep. I did wish to see how the Queen Lucy fares this afternoon."

Susan gave him a sad smile. "Not much different, I'm afraid, Sir Gilfrey. The healers can still find nothing wrong. We're awaiting word from Stormseer."

"Oh, I pray there is no dark magic in this, Lady. As I told the High King, it cannot be that anyone would practice such arts against the most beloved lady in all Narnia, unless it were someone taught by the White Witch herself. I cannot imagine one of her minions lying in wait all these years before suddenly deciding to act. And why now?"

Susan could only shake her head. "Perhaps Stormseer will tell us more."

The Knight smiled, all sympathy, and took her hand again. "Tell me, Lady, when did you last take rest?"

"I'm fine. Really. Lucy needs–"

"Lucy needs you to stay well," Peter said, his voice firm for once. "I think you should get some sleep. In a proper bed."

"I have slept," Susan insisted.

"Dozing in a chair doesn't count. I know you haven't been out of this room for at least three days." Peter looked at his friend. "Maybe she'll listen to you, Gil."

"To me, Majesty?" A touch of color came into the Knight's face, and his dark lashes fell to his cheeks. "I am the last to hold sway over our Sovereign Queen."

Susan smiled at him. He was terribly sweet.

"But if I might suggest, dear Queen," he continued, looking at her once more, "perhaps you should take just a moment or two away from here. A nice walk in the gardens?"

"No, I couldn't. Lucy–"

"That's an excellent idea, Su. Lucy will be fine," Peter said. "I'll stay with her until you come back."

"Really, Peter, I'd better not. If Stormseer sends word–"

"If he does, I will make sure you're the first to know." Peter turned to the Knight. "Gil, it is our wish as High King that the Queen Susan spend at least the next hour walking in the gardens and being taxed with nothing more than a few tales to make her smile. You'll see to that for me, won't you?"

"With great pleasure, My King." Sir Gilfrey bowed and offered Susan his arm. "If my Lady will be so kind?"

Again Susan smiled, but then she looked at Lucy lying so still and white on the bed. "But Peter–"

"Go now." Peter gave her a mock scowl. "That's a royal command."

He seemed so like her High King at that moment, she couldn't help a little bit of a giggle as she curtseyed. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"We must make sure you are wrapped up well, My Queen." Sir Gilfrey tucked her arm under his. "It is rather brisk out, but there are few things lovelier, your gracious self excepted, than sun on snow."

OOOOO

"Your Majesty! Your Majesty!"

Edmund stopped short of reaching his own chambers, collecting himself before turning and looking down at the source of the piping little voice.

A tiny Vole in a bright purple vest made a flourishing bow before him. "Good afternoon, King Edmund."

"Hullo, Burrowbank. How are you today?"

"Very well, Your Majesty. I have been sent to ask if you would come out to the stable, if you are at leisure. There is someone there who would have talk with you."

Edmund looked at him warily, not much in the mood to be trifled with. "Someone? Who?"

"Your indulgence, Sire, but I've been asked to keep that to myself." His little black eyes gleamed with merriment. "This will please you, My King, or I will foreswear nuts entirely the rest of this winter long."

Edmund couldn't help a little bit of a smile. "And if it does please me, I promise you shall have more nuts than you and your whole family can hold. The rest of this winter long. Agreed?"

"Your Majesty is too kind. And we rather fancy walnuts."

Edmund chuckled. "I will bear that in mind."

With another bow, the Vole scampered away, and Edmund trudged towards the stable wondering who could possibly be waiting to see him. With his recent luck, it was probably someone who wanted to kill him or take him captive or, at the very least, accuse him of some heinous misdeed

He passed and was greeted with varying degrees of warmth by a dozen or more creatures along the way, and he laughed grimly. If his purpose was sinister, whoever was waiting for him hadn't picked a very private place.

He pushed open the stable door and squinted into the relative darkness. "Hello? Someone was looking for– "

"Edmund."

Edmund drew in a little breath, he didn't know if it was a laugh or a cry, and leapt forward with open arms.

"Phillip."

The chestnut Horse whickered softly and nuzzled Edmund's shoulder. "How good to see you, My King."

"Phillip." Edmund clung to his friend's sturdy neck, only just managing to keep from sobbing. "Phillip, you have no idea how much I've missed you. How are you?"

"Well, My King. Very well."

"And the fetlock?"

"Well now, too. I'm sorry I couldn't stay with the campaign this summer."

"That was a daft thing to do, Phillip, rushing in like that. It's a wonder you didn't have to have that leg taken off entirely." Edmund squeezed the Horse more tightly. "Thank you though. I really didn't want to die that day."

Phillip nibbled at the back of his hair. "And I didn't want you to."

"Still that was a nasty wound. Are you sure it's all right now?"

"It's been five months, My King. More. It's not a thing of beauty, but it's whole. We're neither of us strangers to scars."

"I thought you were staying with your herd in the south until spring."

"That was my plan, but then I thought I might be more needed here."

Edmund didn't say anything for a moment. "I– I suppose you've heard things. About me, I mean."

"I've heard nothing but nonsense, My King." The Horse blew out a loud, disdainful breath. "Nonsense from those who know no better."

He tickled the back of Edmund's neck with his whiskered muzzle, and Edmund twined his fingers into the silken mane.

"Maybe there are some who ought to know better," Edmund said, his voice very soft as he pressed in closer. "Some I had hoped would anyway."

"Things will come right in time," the Horse soothed. "How long has it been since you've done nothing but enjoy yourself for an hour or so?"

"I . . . uh . . . "

"That's what I thought. Will you come for a ride, My King?"

This time there was nothing but pure pleasure in Edmund's smile. "Any idea where we can find some walnuts? I'm going to need a lot of them."

OOOOO

"And that, Fair Queen, is why the Goats and the Pigeons will never agree about that particular bend in the river."

Susan laughed and held Sir Gilfrey's arm just a bit tighter. "I never know how much of your tales to believe."

"Why, all of them, Lady, I assure you, are no less than pure truth."

She laughed again, seeing a teasing glimmer in his dark eyes. It was good to laugh, and Sir Gilfrey was very easy to laugh with. He sometimes reminded her so much of Ed–

"What is it, Lady? You look suddenly sad."

She smiled again, this time not very brightly. "It's nothing. I ought to go back now. I'm sure it's been much more than an hour."

He patted the hand that rested on his arm. "If you insist, My Queen, though I'm sure if there were any change in Her Majesty your sister or any news from Caldron Pool, the High King would have sent for you."

She looked into the clear winter sky, into the northwest, certain she would see nothing there. Not what she needed to see, at any rate. The Knight looked as well, squinting into the late-afternoon sun, and then he drew a startled breath.

"Look there, Lady. Just below those clouds."

"Oh." She clutched his arm more tightly. "Could it be Windswift at last?"

They watched as the Falcon soared towards them, fleet and sure, closer and closer. Then there was a hissing whoosh from out of the trees at the edge of the forest, and Windswift hurtled to the ground, staining the snow red, a black arrow through his heart..

Susan shrieked, hiding her face against the Knight's shoulder, but he immediately pulled away from her.

"Stay here, Lady, and stay behind cover."

Sir Gilfrey called to the guards who were stationed outside the garden wall, and they hurried out into the meadow. A few minutes later, Sir Gilfrey returned, the body of the noble Falcon cradled in his hands.

"I'm sorry, My Queen. There was nothing to be done for him."

Susan stroked the sleek feathered head, still warm, wetting it with her tears. She looked up at Sir Gilfrey.

"Did he bring a message?"

"There is something tied to his leg, My Queen. Perhaps we should go to the High King before we open it."

Susan looked back towards the trees. "Who could have–"

"I have sent men to search, Lady. They will find whoever has done this and bring him to justice."

OOOOO

Susan watched her older brother's grave face as he cut the string that held the strip of parchment to the Falcon's leg. With a glance at her and at Lucy still lying unmoving on her bed, he unrolled the paper.

He grimaced as he began to read, and she wondered if that was habit now, in anticipation of the pain trying to concentrate seemed to give him these days, but then his face changed. The grimace turned into disbelief. Then dread.

"Where's Edmund?"

Susan looked at the baffled Knight beside her and back at Peter. "I don't know. He said he had something he had to see to. I– "

He crumpled the parchment into his fist and strode over to the open door. "Leander!"

The Cheetah guarding the corridor snapped to attention. "Your Majesty?"

"Get someone to find King Edmund. Now."

"Certainly, Sire. I hear he's gone riding."

"Where?"

"I believe in the wood west of here, Sire."

"Find him. Take some of the soldiers with you. Find him now. Bring him here."

The Cheetah bowed. "At once, Majesty."

The Cat darted off, and Peter stalked back to where Susan and Sir Gilfrey were standing. She couldn't recall when she had seen her brother so infuriated.

"Peter, what–"

He slapped the parchment onto the table next to the dead Falcon. Susan's hands trembled as she picked it up. She had to steady herself against the table once she had read it through.

"Oh, Peter, no. No."

Stormseer of Caldron Pool to the High King Peter with the blessings of the Great Lion who sent this vision: I saw a great eyrie set in a cliff above the sea, and in it were four eggs. From three of them hatched Eagles, but from the fourth came an Adder, and they were all nestmates together. One day, in his anger, the Adder did sting the young Eagles with his fangs, but afterward he wept and repented his evil and swore oaths to never again do them wrong. And because the Adder was their own and but young, the Eagles thought him no harm and shared with him their nest and all they had. But one day, when the Adder was full grown and his venom at its most potent, the sun rose upon that nest to find only the Adder in it. For, despite his oaths, he was an Adder still.

Author's Note: Special thanks to OldFashionedGirl95, especially for naming Sootquill, my dear old Owl, and for tons of brainstorming, and to Laura Andrews for being a fresh pair of eyes. You're both a tremendous help. Bless you!

–WD