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.

CONNIVANCE

"Of course there wasn't anyone else in the room." Susan's full lips tightened with annoyance as she picked through Lucy's store of handkerchiefs, searching for the nicest ones. "Really, Lu, these days Peter doesn't know what he's doing half the time. He says he didn't open his doors and put out his fire when he nearly froze to death, but he must have. His guards didn't see anyone enter or leave the room. It was the same as last night, and I was with him the whole time."

Lucy sighed, wishing she could disagree, wishing something, the healers, the cordial, anything, would help their brother. "I suppose he has been a bit confused."

"A bit?"

"All right," Lucy admitted, "very confused. He does seem better today though, don't you think?"

"Much better." Susan gave her little sister's cheek a maternal pat and then went over to her wardrobe, deciding which of Lucy's dresses would be most appropriate for a diplomatic visit. "So I don't want you to worry about him while you're gone."

"Are you sure I should–"

"Lucy, we've been over this a dozen times. One of us has to go. Obviously Peter can't, and someone must stay and look after him and take care of everything else here at the Cair."

"But I could–"

"You could, but you know dealing with any of the islands is your responsibility. There will be a war between the Lone Islands and the Seven Isles over those sea lanes if we don't step in and sort things out right away. We can't let something like that happen, can we?"

Lucy frowned, knowing her sister was right. "But if you went–"

"I wouldn't handle it half as nicely as you. You do feel well enough to go, don't you? I know it hasn't been very long since–"

"I feel fine, I promise. I just don't think–"

"It's only a short trip. And you know if you stayed here you and Gil would row endlessly over every little thing he tried to do to help."

"He's a bit too presumptuous lately, if you ask me."

"Don't be silly." Susan selected a gown of aquamarine silk and another of rose-colored lace and laid them out on the bed with the others already there. "He's been kind and helpful. I couldn't possibly have gotten through all this without him, especially with you ill all that time. I'm sure Peter wouldn't have either."

"Too helpful, I say. Too willing to take on things he has no right to. He acts like he's the High King."

"Peter trusts him." Susan added a gown of black velvet trimmed with pearls to the pile on the bed. "And so do I. He's been nothing but a perfect gentleman."

"A little too perfect."

Lucy tossed her sheathed dagger on top of her gowns, and Susan shook her head.

"There's no pleasing you, is there?"

You're a trifle too easily pleased, Lucy thought darkly, but she said nothing. She merely added a pair of boots to the variety of satin and velvet slippers her sister had selected for her.

Susan frowned. "Must you take those tatty old things along? The dagger's bad enough."

"Fine," Lucy muttered, tossing the boots back into the bottom of her wardrobe.

"Oh, don't pout," Susan snapped. "Peter and Edmund aren't here to see and rush over to pet you."

She froze the moment she said it, her eyes filled with sudden tears, but she only swallowed hard and turned back to the gowns she had laid out.

"What do you think? These should be enough for a few days, shouldn't they?"

"Susan–"

Susan lifted her head, her mouth set in a firm line. "We have to go on with our lives now, Lucy. All of us. I know how you feel about what had to be done, but it's over now. He's not coming back."

Lucy gave her an equally determined look. "It's not over. You and Peter are wrong about him. I won't argue with you about it just now, but when Peter is well, we are going to talk about it. And I'm going to talk to Edmund about it, too. I'll go into Archenland and find him if I have to."

Susan merely gave her an even smile. "Would you like to take my pearls with you to the islands? You look lovely in them."

"Thank you," Lucy said with a cool smile of her own, "but I don't think so. This isn't a pleasure trip, and I'm not trying to catch the eye of any new suitors."

"All right. Do you have enough–"

"Susan, I can see to all this. Maybe you'd better go back and look after Peter."

Susan's lips trembled slightly. "Do come see him before you leave."

"I will." Lucy's stern expression finally softened. "I'm not leaving until tomorrow morning."

Susan surprised her with a tight hug. "We didn't want to lose you, too. We had to–"

"I know," Lucy said, her own voice suddenly as broken as her sister's. "I know."

They clung together for a long moment, and then Susan finally pulled away, her smile a little more genuine this time. "Come tell him goodnight then, won't you, before you go to bed?"

Lucy nodded and smiled, too. "Of course I will."

OOOOO

Edmund put a few more sticks of wood on the fire and huddled closer to it. He had hoped to find another cave to sleep in on his way to the Western March, but nightfall had forced him to stop and make camp where he was. At least this little cleft in the mountainside gave him and Phillip some shelter from the winter wind and kept the fire from being blown out.

He was too on edge to sleep yet, though Phillip had urged him to. Instead, he looked over some of the things Aslan had instructed King Lune to pack for him. Besides a generous store of dried beef and venison, some hearty brown bread, a few apples and a number of cherry tarts, there was a skin of sweet cider and even such niceties as salt and cubed sugar. There was also a little silver flask, stoppered but empty, and a small brass mortar and pestle.

"What do you suppose those are for?" Philip asked, eyeing them as he munched the handful of sugar cubes Edmund had given him.

"I dunno," Edmund said as he packed it all back into the saddlebags.. "If Aslan sent them, I'm sure there's a reason. Seems we're prepared for everything."

Phillip snorted. "For everything, My King, except you fainting for lack of food and rest."

"I ate! And I did stop for the night."

"Only because it was too dark to see anymore. And I may be a Horse, but even I know three bites of venison and two little tarts aren't enough to make a boy a decent supper." Phillip gave him a stern look. "What did you tell me King Lune said?"

Edmund sighed. "It won't help me or Peter if my quest fails because I'm too tired to complete it."

Phillip eyed him expectantly, and Edmund finally opened the pack again.

"Fine." He pulled out several strips of beef, a sizeable chunk of bread and another of the tarts. "Is that sufficient?"

Phillip nodded. "It's a start."

"Susan," Edmund muttered halfway under his breath, and he could have sworn the Horse chuckled.

OOOOO

The sun had barely peeped over the far edge of the sea when Lucy set sail on The Morning Dove. The Dove was a trig little thing, sleek and fast and as beautiful as the bird she was named for. Peter had made his littlest sister a present of the ship early in the spring and had given Lucy the privilege of naming her when she was first launched.

"Actually, Lu, it's 'mourning dove,'" Susan had said, "not 'morning dove.'"

Lucy had only grinned. "But that's such a sad name for a very sweet little bird. I like this better."

This now wasn't so joyous an occasion as that maiden voyage had been, and Lucy was disappointed to see that the Red Dwarf who usually captained the ship would not be doing so on this trip. Since this was such a sudden and unexpected trip, there hadn't been time to send for him and The Dove's regular crew.

Telling herself she hadn't come aboard to socialize anyway, Lucy had given the young Galman in charge of The Dove only the briefest of greetings before quickly making her way to her cabin and settling in. The sooner they set sail, the quicker she would be back.

She hated leaving at all. Peter had looked a little bewildered at the news of her abrupt departure, but he had agreed with Susan that Lucy would be the best one to deal with any problems between the Lone Islands and the Seven Isles and that those problems were best seen to before they could escalate. Lucy was grateful just to see him lucid and a little less feverish than he had been, so she put on her bravest face and kissed him goodbye, promising she would return with nothing but renewed amity and understanding between the disgruntled parties and making him promise to be completely well when she did.

As always, Lucy looked through her cabin windows until she could no longer see Cair Paravel glimmering on the shore. Then, with a swift prayer for her loved ones, especially for Edmund wherever he was, she lay down on her bed and let the motion of the ship lull her into a refreshing nap.

OOOOO

"And how fares my king this afternoon?"

Peter looked at Sir Gilfrey blearily, still half asleep and trying not to cringe at the too-cheerful voice. Where was Lucy? She always gave him cold water to drink and didn't make his head hurt. No, Lucy was going on a journey somewhere, he remembered that much.

"Susan–?"

"The Queen Susan has been called away for just a moment, Your Majesty. But as we have some important matters to discuss, I thought now might be an opportune moment–"

"Matters?"

"It pains me to trouble Your Majesty at such a time, but they must be seen to as soon as possible." Gilfrey held a sheaf of official-looking documents and began laying them out on the coverlet where Peter could see them. "There is the treaty with Calormen and the trade agreements with Galma as well as the matter of clarifying the borderline between Narnia and Archenland in the western part of the mountains. Some of the northern settlements have petitioned for increased military patrols against the giants and the Merfolk are asking that you–"

"Wait. Wait. Please." Peter pressed one hand to the side of his head, trying to keep it from splitting into pieces. "Um, couldn't Susan or– or Lucy–"

"The Queen Lucy has gone to see to things in the islands, Majesty."

"Yes. Right."

"And I fear the Queen Susan already has much to see to, especially now that your brother is . . . no longer here."

Peter winced at the white-hot spike of pain that stabbed through his skull. "Had to do it. Had to."

"Of course you did, Sire. And I know it was no easy decision for you to make. But, unless you appoint someone to act on your behalf, you must continue to see to such matters." The Knight held out a document. "If Your Majesty would be so good as to read this over, particularly paragraphs seven through forty-four and fifty-nine through seventy, and then compare it to this declaration Calormen sent to Telmar, perhaps you will more readily understand how urgent–"

"I don't– " Peter squeezed his eyes shut, turning his face away as the nausea rose in his throat. "Not now, Gil. No. I can't."

"But, Sire–"

"Could you give me some of that water?"

"Certainly, My King. In a moment. First, all these matters require your signature and your seal."

"Susan–"

"Her Majesty is already overwhelmed with her own duties. I would help her, of course, but I haven't the authority. Now, if Your Majesty would be so good as to review this proclamation regarding the western edge of the Shuddering Wood. Now that King Edmund cannot–"

"Please, Gil, just some water."

"Of course, Sire. Once you've signed each of these documents. There are little more than a score of them."

Peter opened his eyes, bewildered to find a quill pressed into his limp fingers.

"Or you might wish to sign just this one." The Knight smiled and held out a single sheet of paper, a neat, simple page without too many words. "It will confirm your consent to letting me see to matters on your behalf until you wish to do so again yourself. I will gladly take the burden from Your Majesty's shoulders and ensure our beloved Narnia is well looked after."

Peter stared at the quill and then at the paper. No, he was the High King. It wasn't right to expect someone else to take on his duties. It was good of Gil to want to help, but Narnia was his to look after, to protect, and he had failed her these past few weeks just as he had failed his brother. He was failing her still.

He looked at the papers piled around him and licked his parched lips. What had Gil said about Calormen having a treaty with the Merfolk and giants wanting to set up trade in the Shuddering Wood? If he could just see clearly enough to read all those documents, surely he could figure out what needed to be done. He wasn't going mad, Edmund had promised he wasn't. If he could only make his head stop spinning–

"Your Majesty needs rest, it is plain to see. You need sign only this one page, and I will see to everything else for you."

Peter pushed that neat little page aside, and took up the densely lettered stack of papers nearest him. But the words swam before his eyes, and he was forced to lay the papers down again before he was well and truly sick on them.

"Gil, please, something to drink."

He heard the sweet sound of water poured from the pitcher into his cup and reached blindly towards it, but his hand was abruptly stopped.

"After you've seen to your duties, My King." Again the Knight pressed the quill into his grasp. "Or, at the least, provided for them to be seen to."

"Gil–"

"What do you prefer, My King? Shall we start with the Calormene treaty? Or decide how best to deal with the giants? Of course, there is the slave trade in the Lone Islands that must be seen to before it becomes a problem. This report–"

"Gil, please."

"Certainly, Sire. In just a moment." Still smiling, the Knight swirled the water in the cup. "It will still be cold after you've seen to these matters. There's nothing so refreshing as melted snow, is there?"

Again Peter licked his lips. Again he took up some of the papers. And again the letters on them whirled and writhed before his eyes until he was forced to set them down.

"Clearly, My King, you aren't able to look after things as you ought. It seems only right that you should provide for them to be seen to, does it not? As the High King, surely that is your duty. You cannot mean to merely neglect these matters and let your kingdom suffer for it."

It did make sense. It made perfect sense. If Peter couldn't see to these things himself, he ought to at least make sure they were all taken care of. It was only temporary after all. When he was well again, and they all assured him he'd be well again, he would see to things himself once more. Meanwhile, who better to stand in for him than Gil? Gil had been a brick ever since they'd come back from Ettinsmoor and even before that. Gil was his friend, his best friend now that Edmund–

The Knight offered him the single page once more along with the little silver inkwell from the desk. With his help, Peter dipped the quill into the ink and managed to scrawl his name at the bottom of the paper. Gil immediately took the paper from him, smiling still.

"There. No more than that. Now, one last small matter and Your High Majesty needn't worry about anything else."

His eyes fixed on the silver cup, Peter hardly heard what he said. "Hmm?"

"The ring with your seal, Sire. I must have it to carry out your wishes." The Knight lifted Peter's unresisting hand and easily slipped the ring from his thin finger. "There now, and here is your fresh, cool water."

Peter seized the cup, downing the contents in one desperate gulp and then lying back on his pillows panting with the effort. "More. Please."

But the Knight was gathering up all the papers he had brought with him and didn't seem to hear.

"Gil–"

"Peter. You're awake." Susan swept into the room, her arms full of table linens dyed a nauseating shade of green. "I don't know what they were thinking in the laundry. The banquet is meant to honor the Terebinthians not insult them. This is nothing like the green in their banners. How are you feeling?"

Peter blinked at her. "Fine. I'm– just a little thirsty. Could you–"

"I would be happy to see to the preparations for you, My Queen, if you'd like." The Knight took the linens from her and set them on the desk. "But first I thought you ought to be aware of this."

He handed Susan the paper Peter had just signed. Susan read it over, her delicate brows lifted, and then she looked from Peter to Gilfrey and back to Peter again.

"Do you– Are you sure all this is necessary, Peter?" She smiled at the Knight and squeezed his hand. "You've been such a help to us all, Gil, and we're very grateful, but Peter–"

He brought her hand to his lips. "I am here to serve you and yours, Lady, and our dear kingdom. But I bring this to your attention because I fear it is too great an honor for one such as myself. As you see, the High King is improving. Surely he will not need me to act on his behalf for long. Perhaps not at all."

Susan turned back to her brother. "Are you sure, Peter? Would you rather I–"

"You're already overwhelmed with your own duties," Peter said, wondering vaguely how the words came so easily to him all of a sudden. "You need someone with the authority to help you when I can't. That's all."

She returned his smile, looking genuinely relieved. "If you're sure. It has been a little much sometimes."

"I don't want you to worry anymore, Su." Peter leaned back against his pillows again. "Gil will see to everything."

Gil had turned to fiddle with something at the desk, and then Peter heard him pour more water into his cup.

"Your drink, Sire."

Peter drank it down again, but this time the water was faintly bitter, not sweet as it had been when Lucy gave it to him the day before, and it made him suddenly hot, not cool.

"Shall we attend to the banquet preparations now, My Queen?" Gil took Susan's arm and turned her towards the door. "Rest well, My King," he added with a smile. "And pleasant dreams."

OOOOO

THUD. THUD. THUD.

Lucy's eyes flew open, and she stood up and looked out at the tossing waves. It couldn't be more than mid-afternoon, she was certain, but there was a strange look to the sky. It had been clear and blue when they left Cair Paravel, but now it was a greenish gray, nearly the color of the wintry sea and darker by the moment.

THUD. THUD. THUD.

What was that? And what was going on topside? There was a splash, and she saw that one of the boats had been lowered into the water, manned by a couple of the sailors. What were they doing?

THUD. THUD. THUD.

The sound was coming from either side of her cabin, some sort of hammering and splitting wood, and she realized the ship was listing to one side. She flew to her door, but it wouldn't open.

"Hello?" She yanked on the doorknob and then pounded with both fists. "Can someone hear me? Let me out!"

She could hear the crew up on deck, orders to load the boats and prepare to pull away, but no one seemed to hear her.

"Please! I'm in here! Someone let me out!"

She turned to get her dagger, hoping to be able to free herself, and realized one side of the room was quickly filling with water. Oh, Aslan! They had scuttled the ship and meant to leave her to drown!

She rummaged through her chest full of gowns and slippers and underthings and found her precious dagger. At once she began prying at the lock, hacking at the wood, desperate to do anything to get that door open.

"Please, Aslan," she begged. "Help me! Do something!"

She thought of breaking one of the windows, but the way the ship was tilted now, she was afraid that would only sink her more quickly. She could see the sky had grown darker, even in just the past few minutes, and the wind was whipping up. One of the little boats was pitching dangerously, the men drenched in icy water, cursing it and each other.

"Aslan!" She redoubled her efforts to open the door, but The Dove was soundly built, and she knew already it was no use. "Aslan, please, do something!"

There was a deafening crack of thunder, blinding lightning forked across the now-black sky. Rain was coming down in sheets, and she saw one of the small boats pitch and go under.

Water was pouring into the cabin, faster and faster, and she decided it would be better to swim for it rather than be trapped at the bottom of the sea. But the windows were small, the glass thick and heavily leaded, designed to withstand the weather and even submersion. They also withstood the chair she smashed against them.

"Aslan!" she shrieked, frustrated tears streaming down her face, and with a sudden groan, The Dove heeled to one side and black water filled the cabin.

Author's Note: OldFashionedGirl95 has, as always, been a great help to me on this story. And Laura Andrews has yet again given me the benefit of her fresh view of things. Thank you, dear ones!

–WD