Rilian wakes up early and stares at the ceiling, thinking. Broken beams, splinters all over the ground, the workers injured by the destruction of their own work…two cooks, slices on their palms and fingers as they destroy what holds and showcases their work…and both things were destroyed till not even the pieces could be put together again.
Why?
What connection did plates and ships have?
He can't think of any. One sails the seas, one stays in the kitchen. One is large, one is small. But they're not even opposed enough to be opposites; they're disconnected, unrelated.
He can't think of any connections.
If he stops thinking about that, his mind turns instead to Ileana. Guhen is gone, taking those few days off, and Rilian knows he should still go to the library. He should check to see if Guhen's books have been disturbed. He should also look for a way to help Ileana's breathing.
Not that she seems to have been struggling too much recently, Rilian thinks with relief. She hasn't been running, or doing too much strenuous exercise. Perhaps the rest helped? Or perhaps…her love for the sea waned? And as it did, she could survive on land?
But there's still some wariness in the back of Rilian's mind, and he wonders uneasily what he'll do if they get to day twenty-nine, and Ileana doesn't want to go back to the sea. He should have a plan in place.
But how does one convince a Mermaid to return to her home? Shouldn't staying alive be convincing enough?
Only…Rilian thinks back to his conversations with Ileana, and it doesn't seem to be. She seems to have a pressing reason to stay on land, and yet her family…she hadn't seemed alarmed. So perhaps they aren't being held?
Rilian rolls over and tries to go back to sleep. He has gotten up early for too many mornings in a row; he wants to linger in bed on this one.
But his mind won't be quiet, remembering Ileana's round scales, the feel of the diamond shaped one, the splinters of the ship beams, and the knowledge that something, or someone, is loose in Narnia, and is causing harm. Not to people, not yet. But Rilian's stomach turns, because evil usually grows uglier as time passes. It will probably move from things to people at some point.
It is a King's task to protect his people, and yet Rilian doesn't know how to now.
He can't even make his mind quiet to sleep; how can he protect a kingdom?
You cannot, he remembers his father saying suddenly. But we do what any Narnian does when they cannot do what they must.
So Rilian gets up and goes to his window. His mind flashes to Ileana for a moment, the way her window is always open, the smell of the sea, and the open air—but then he focuses.
He spends the next hour talking to and thinking about Aslan. At the end, he has no more answers than at the beginning, but more trust that the answers will come when they are truly needed. He dresses for the day, checks the library and finds that yes, the books and scrolls have been disturbed. He finds three by a chair that the Hedgehog librarian had specifically noted as previously being on Guhen's table. Rilian puts them back, frowning, and makes his way to Ileana's room. Peri is already there. Rilian can hear her from down the hall. She's urging Ileana to wear something pretty, and Rilian slows down before he reaches the door. That's not a conversation he has any interest in joining. Ileana looks pretty in whatever she wears.
It's another ten minutes before Peri is satisfied, though Ileana's answers are more patient than enthusiastic. Rilian hears her go over Ileana's hair options, wavering between braided and down, and finally ending up on a braid that wraps her head. A blue dress ("it matches your eyes") and a white beaded necklace apparently finish Ileana to Peri's satisfaction, though Ileana is hesitant to wear the white beads.
By this point Rilian is leaning against the wall and wishing they'd hurry up, as he's hungry. Ileana's door finally opens, and Rilian can't help smiling when he sees her, but it's a quick smile.
"Shall we go obtain our breakfast?"
"Of course," Ileana says, and Rilian admits her hair crowning her head is a pretty look—but not worth being late for breakfast. He offers his arm to Ileana.
"That's it?" he hears Peri mutter, and decides to ignore it.* But he notes that she's becoming quite opinionated—and verbal—and that it might be best to keep her away from any guests other than Ileana. He'll mention it to the housekeeper when he sees the Dryad next.
"What do you have planned for today, lady of the sea?"
"It's the last day the children have to practise hiding, since they're not coming for the rest day tomorrow. I'd like to be there, helping. I'm hoping at least one of them isn't caught the day of the chase! The group has been working quite hard—good morning to you as well—and I know they're a bit competitive. It'd be lovely for them to see their hard work pay off."
"Though it might encourage them to think themselves as uncatchable," Rilian points out dryly.
"I think Jarmu, at least, learned his lesson."
Rilian tries not to think about why Jarmu might have changed so much—or at least appeared to around Ileana. Instead he replies, "And as he is the driving force behind the mischief, I would be bound, skills may do little harm in their hands. Very well, I shall also join you today, and we'll see if we can give these five some final lessons."
"May I join as well? I can finish my chores quite quickly; I should be done by this afternoon," Peri asks from behind them.
"If your work is done, you would be welcome," Rilian says as graciously as he can. "Good morning," he adds to the guard they're passing, who bows and opens the door.
"Good morning," comes in smooth tones from their left, and Rilian fights not to roll his eyes. Hasn't he had enough of such nonsense this morning?
"Good morning," he manages, tone polite, as the Ambassador bows.
"Such a vision of beauty this morning. May I hope to glimpse it again, later today?" he asks Ileana.
"I'm afraid I'm training this afternoon, and I do not think new guests would be welcome at this late stage," she replies, more kindly than Rilian managed.
"Then I shall console myself with the wonders of the garden and library. Tomorrow, perhaps?"
Rilian interjects with, "That is our rest day, and Ileana is graciously keeping me company. Good morning to you." Rilian steers Ileana to a seat next to Drinian and sits down on her other side. Peri finds a seat a few chairs down, and Rilian breathes more easily when the Ambassador is placed an entire table away.
"I do not like that. Ileana, I think we should continue your dagger lessons this morning."
Drinian glances over at the Ambassador. "Making trouble again?"
"Me or the Ambassador?" Ileana asks lightly.
"Him."
"He's still chasing her," Rilian growls, and Drinian frowns.
"If you're not a part of the problem, you might be threatened by it. Stay near others till all this is sorted, you hear?"
Ileana looks a little startled—more by Drinian's tone, Rilian would guess, than the advice—but nods. Then she hesitates. "Today and tomorrow I will be with others, but the day of the chase I may not be." She looks over at Rilian. "Are you going to be a part of the chase?"
He shakes his head. "I'd have an unfair advantage, I know the Cair too well. And I try to hold open court on the first day of the week."
Drinian sighs. "I'm too old to go running around the Cair, but it's better than letting you run around alone," he grumbles. "Don't expect me to help, though! I'm following, not leading. The sooner we're caught, the less running I'll have to do."
"That's if we're caught," Ileana baits back.
"You're underestimating the palace guards."
"You're underestimating my ability to make mischief."
"I really hope I'm not," Drinian mutters before changing his tone to something more playful as he nods his white-haired head. "Care to place a wager on whether or not we're caught?"
"Will you throw the bet, or can I count on you to be fast and quiet?"
"Lady! I'm a man of honour," and Drinian's tone is serious, his eyes steady. "I'll be as fast and quiet as can be expected of a man my age."
"Then I would be glad to wager. What shall we hold as the prize?"
Drinian hesitates. "A story about your people?"
Ileana thinks for a moment, eyes running back and forth. "I can honour that. And if we are not caught—a story about the King, when he was young and got into mischief?"
"Aye, that I can do!"
"Now wait a moment—"
"Done," Ileana says, not waiting for Rilian to finish. She reaches over and shakes Drinian's hand.
"This is not what I intended," Rilian says, but he feels the corners of his mouth fighting to turn upwards even through his scowl.
"Perhaps the King should get used to having things go a way other than his will," Ileana teases. But she takes a roll and puts it on his bowl, then passes him the platter of eggs. Rilian scoops some into the bowl and his eyebrows furrow.
There are no plates on the table today, only bowls, and Rilian knows the reason why. He glances at Drinian, tapping his own bowl twice with one finger. Drinian shakes his head.
They don't say much after that. Rilian wasn't looking at Ileana and doesn't know if she caught the gesture, but she must feel the mood, at least, because she is also quiet.
They go straight from breakfast to the practice courts, and they warm up first, side by side with five guards. Then Rilian and Ileana both practise the movements the Faun is teaching, a block followed by a twist that may disarm an opponent. After they repeat the motion multiple times, they try it on each other. Ileana struggles to master the block, and Rilian feels a chill as he realises that her arms are not as strong as they were even the last time he had her practice; she is perhaps a little less strong than an average Narnian woman.
The twist she masters easily.
Rilian pairs himself with her for the rest of the morning, watching her breathing. The more she pushes herself, the harder it is for her to breathe—just as it would be for a human.
But it hadn't been, when she first came to shore. So Rilian slows down, and is careful not to push too hard when she has to block, and tries to tell himself that's all she needs, at least for now.
It doesn't feel like it. It feels like Rilian should be able to do so much more, and he's glad when practice is over and lunchtime comes.
The children show up while lunch is still in progress, so Rilian waves them to his table and invites them to have dessert. There's a good-natured pushing around of chairs, more chairs being brought for the Dogs and Sons of Adam, while the Kittens are content to sit on the table itself, lapping up bowls of cream.
Jarmu inserts himself by Ileana, and Rilian is somewhat amused when Piram more politely does the same by the King himself. Piram doesn't seem to have anything to say, however, so both listen to Ileana telling Jarmu about one of the valleys she'd explored, just beyond the boundaries of her people. At one point Rilian glances over and fights back a smile when he sees Piram's eyes looking nearly as large as an Owl's, and he thinks Ileana has made herself yet another follower.
The Kittens, Bethava and Carmi, do not want help after lunch; they think they have the perfect hiding place, though it is too small for any of their companions. Rilian is not too worried; the other Cats will have found the place long before the Kittens did, and will likely find them first. Piram thinks the group should divide into two (with the Captain's approval), half chasing, half hiding, as practice for the chase itself. Rilian nods his own approval, and asks how the group should be divided. It's a small test for this growing man, and he's pleased to see Piram slow and think about it.
"We should have at least one Dog in the group that chases," Piram thinks out loud.
"Because our chasers will also have sharp senses," Jarmu realises.
"Me! Me! I want to chase!" two of the Dogs bark, and Rilian grins.
"Perhaps it should be the two adults and two Dogs who chase," he offers. Jarmu smiles sharply; Ileana's eyes narrow at the boy.
"The lack of over-watching eyes does not allow for any breaking of the rules," her tone warns. Jarmu's smile fades.
"I'm going to keep to the rules." His eyes are downcast, his cheeks a little red, and Rilian thinks he means it.
"But you've found a place to hide," Ileana realises, and Jarmu turns a little more red. She smiles. "I look forward to trying to find you."
"I won't use it tonight," Jarmu says. "I want to save it."
"Wise," Rilian interjects, and Piram also nods. Jarmu doesn't quite smile, but Rilian thinks he was braced for disapproval, and relief looks good on him. Perhaps he does need encouragement to use his gifts well. "Well, we shall give you the count of one guard's walk after we hear your footsteps fade."
"We'll all go up the stairs, just so they can't try to hear us going different directions," Piram offers.
"And I know where we all should go after that," Jarmu adds with a grin. "But I'll tell you later."
Ileana and Rilian take the two dogs into a small room and wait for the quick footsteps to fade. Then Rilian goes to the window and watches the guards make one round on top of the closest wall. "Where are you going to hide when you join the group hiding, the day after next?" He doesn't know why he asks, exactly, since he won't be a part of it. But—it would be good to know where she is.
"Should I tell you?" she asks, laughter rippling through her voice.
"I will not tell anyone else," he promises.
"You either," she says to the two Dogs, who are panting by the door. "Since Drinian will be coming with me, I intend to hide inside a suit of armour."
"That is most uncomfortable. Draughty in the wrong places and you can't move without someone noticing the noise."
"Speaking from experience?"
"Yes, actually—I didn't want to be dragged to dinner with a visiting dignitary. My tutor looked for me first, and then he fetched Drinian, and then, when I had not been found after a few hours, the entire Cair started hunting. Father was most displeased." Rilian turns a little red himself as she laughs again. "I was ten!"
"I am much older than that, and still contemplating doing it, so there is no judgement from me."
"Now?" barks one of the Dogs, and Rilian glances at the guard. He grins.
"Now."
The chase does not last more than an hour. The Dogs follow the scent to the kitchens, where they lose it in the overwhelming scents—but Rilian suggests checking the halls around the many kitchen exits, and while they do not find the group's scent, they note a strange fish smell coming out of the kitchen in a place it has no business being. It leads them right to Piram and Jarmu. The two break and run, but Rilian knows the Cair. He cuts off through a corridor, yelling at others to keep chasing.
It is only when he comes in front of them, grabbing both shoulders to keep them from falling and then holding them as three Puppies barrel into them, that he realises Ileana is not there.
He calls her name and listens; nothing. Jarmu and Piram spin around as well, and the group runs the other way, the Dogs soon passing them. They lead Rilian, barking and jumping, to a set of stairs; the boys are left behind by Rilian's longer legs. On the stairs sits Ileana, leaning against the wall, one hand clenched around the railing above her, with her head down and shoulders heaving.
"Ileana!" Rilian curses himself, knowing she shouldn't be running, she's still growing weaker. He's running towards her as he thinks, and she holds her other hand out.
He pulls her up, one arm going around her waist, and she leans her head on him, still breathing heavily.
"Sorry," she offers breathlessly. "Sorry. I broke—my promise."
"Sit down again," Rilian says sharply, just as the boys run up.
"Is she all right?"
"What's wrong?"
"She's short of breath, that's all," Rilian responds. He's gentle as he lowers her down, but she's still clinging to his shoulder and his other hand, so he goes down with her. She keeps leaning on him and he lets her, feeling every rise of her shoulders.
"You said you explored a mountain," Jarmu says slowly. "What—what's wrong now?"
"It's been twelve days," Ileana pants into Rilian's shoulder.
"Twelve days since…what?"
"Nothing," Rilian says firmly. He looks up at Jarmu. "Don't worry. I will care for her."
"Give me a few minutes and I can care for myself." Her breathing is growing easier, and Rilian relaxes a little.
Piram crouches down next to her and asks, in a calm tone that Rilian fleeting thinks will serve him well when he is older, "Can we do anything for you?"
"No, but thank you."
"They can help you up," Rilian corrects. Jarmu reaches down for one of her hands while Piram takes the other, and Rilian keeps his hands on her waist, pushing her up. He stands himself once he sees that she does not waver, taking a moment more before letting go.
She stands thanking both young men, cheeks flushed and smile a little nervous. Embarrassed, Rilian realises with surprise; she had never been that way around him.
Rilian thinks it's time to redirect their attention. "We shall go find somewhere quiet to sit. I suggest the five of you try to find and capture the Kittens." His tone made it a command, and Piram bowed. Jarmu hesitated, but as the Dogs spun, noses sniffing, he took a last glance at Ileana, standing on her own, and then ran after the rest.
"The gardens?" Rilian asks. Ileana nods, but then hesitates.
"I would guess that you're going to ask that I rest for the afternoon and evening. I'd rather be in my room, then, working on—something."
"Working does not sound like resting," but Rilian offers his arm and turns towards the easiest route.
"I work with the little magic I have, not this weakened body," she answers lightly.
Rilian slows to a stop. "Ileana."
"It happens. The longer we stay out of the water, the weaker we become. You know this. I ran too far and too fast. It is no more alarming than if I were recovering from an illness."
"I know you weaken outside the sea, but something—something allows the Merfolk to live on land. Can you not tell me what it is? What item did the sailor and merchant find that the King of Archenland did not? Did they have pools of water in their houses? If you would just tell me—"
"No. I cannot, Rilian. Please stop asking. I tell you too much when you do, and every word I speak dishonours me. I swore, when I made my choice, to keep the secrets of the sea. I may not speak them, no matter who asks, who presses me, or how. Please stop trying to make me break that oath. You have more success than anyone, and that—is wrong."
Rilian looks at her, and she is sincere, her blue gaze steady, her red mouth firm. He reaches and pulls her into a hug, holding her head against his shoulder with one hand. "Then will you promise me, please—" He means to ask her to return to the sea, but even as the words come to his mouth, he knows she won't, that she'll say she can't. "To take care, and to let me know all I may do to help."
"All I can tell you, and ask you for, I will," she says into his shoulder. Her arms come around his waist and hold him back, gentle but sure.
He takes her to her room, checking to make sure it is empty and asking her to lock the door. He leaves her to work her magic. The thought bothers him less than it did before; or perhaps not. What bothers him is how her magic cannot help her. It's her own magic, why can't it—Rilian stops in the corridor. Magic always seemed to me a self-serving thing. It's a reason I disliked it. But it's not; magic raised the Lion from death; magic called the Four to Narnia, and then the three, and then two, just for me.
The Serpent used her magic solely for herself and her purposes. That Ileana does not do so makes it easier for Rilian to trust her magic, even as he wishes it was more helpful.
But, the chase finished and Ileana presumably safe, Rilian goes back to other duties. He goes to find Drinian.
Drinian walks up and down the beach. Rilian can see the footsteps in the sand as he approaches, a straight line—Drinian will always walk a straight line—three ship lengths and back again. Rilian falls into step beside the older man and waits.
"If I'd sailed with more Calormenes I could have blistered his ears with their own curses." Drinian's steps pick up. "A more useless—all he would say is she was beautiful. Dark-haired, enchanting, graceful—I listened to that, and I wondered—"
"Yes?"
Their pace picks up yet again. "Did the scale remind you of anything?" Drinian asks slowly.
"A dragon?"
"Or a snake."
Rilian stops, and Drinian takes one more step before stopping too, turning to look at him. "A beautiful dark-haired lady and the scale of a snake," the Captain says slowly.
Rilian laughs, light-hearted and free. "I do not fear that, my friend. It died on two swords, and I saw the body coiled on the floor. Her kingdom crumbled. There is nothing of her power or herself left."
"Fair and clear," Drinian agrees. He turns back to his pacing, though this time he goes slowly. "But those who do not know you well—nor the ending of the story—might think you still feared such things. Especially if they saw you the day Ileana turned back into a Mermaid."
"You think the scale was a ruse? And the Ambassador is a part of it?"
"I do not know what to think. I think it's possible, but it's also possible the breeze turns and comes at us in a way we're not looking. But—there's a group of musicians in the Cair. They're to sing tomorrow, for rest day. They were invited a full week ago."
"You wonder if someone slipped in with them."
"Or is a part of their group. And if the Ambassador is waiting to take advantage. He's as slippery as an eel—or a snake." Drinian shrugs. "But I accused a Mermaid wrongly, and I'm not in a hurry to do that again. I just came out here to think on it." He lifts his head, and the wind flips some of his hair. "I think better out here. I always have." He takes a few more steps. "I used to walk out here with your father. Your mother joined us sometimes, but those walks—he was a good king, and a good friend."
"He would have said the same about you. About being a friend," Rilian adds hastily, before Drinian can take him to task for unclear language.
"I'm assigning Ileana a guard for tomorrow. A Cat, so she's less likely to notice. You should assign yourself one too, Your Majesty."
Rilian grimaces, but if something had snuck in with the singers, it was the wise thing to do. "I will."
Drinian lets out a sigh. "Thank you." He stops and looks out at the sea. "I wish Rhince, Reep, or Trumpkin were still here. I miss their advice."
Rilian stands with him, letting him remember and quietly grieve. "We are just as much in Aslan's paws," he says after several minutes. Drinian gives him a smile, and then turns towards the Cair.
"Time for the old man to go in, Your Majesty."
The night passes peacefully, and Rilian wakes the next morning more rested than he had been in several days. Ileana has a few more cuts on her hand, shallow ones, and shadows under her eyes. Rilian does not mention either of them. They eat their cold breakfast—they try to spare the kitchens work on rest days—and spend the morning in the garden. Ileana does not speak, laying in the sunshine, breathing in the scent of grass and lavender, and Rilian lays beside her. The guards are on the wall above, but it feels close to their time at the stream; sunshine, quiet, and grass. The funniest moment of the morning is when they both hear tramping feet, and instantly look at each other. Then Rilian rolls to the side, under some bushes; she scrambles to the base of a tree and climbs it as swiftly as a Squirrel. A group of people—including the Ambassador, Rilian is displeased to see—passes, and when their footsteps fade Rilian rolls out, Ileana climbs down, and the two look at each other and begin laughing. She has a twig in her hair, and Rilian is sure he has mud and green stains on his clothing, but—it was worth it. They lie down once more, the laughter fading, and he closes his eyes, breathing deeply.
He doesn't speak. He doesn't want to pressure her, after she asked him not to, but it's hard to keep the questions back, to find a way to make sure there will be more days like these, more laughter, after the seventeen are passed. So he doesn't speak at all.
The first bell for lunch rings, and Rilian opens his eyes.
He does not get up. He doesn't want to; he doesn't want to go back to being a King. He'd rather hide under the bushes. He'd rather pretend tomorrow isn't coming, with its broken ships, broken plates, dying Mermaid, green scales, and…
He stops himself. The next day is also the day of the chase, of children showing what they've learned; a day of justice, too, as he holds courts. It is a good day.
He just doesn't want to face it. He doesn't want to do anything. He had not realised how tired he'd become, trying to carry all of this.
A hand grasps his, and he looks away from the blue sky to see Ileana standing over him. She begins tugging him, trying to get him up, and he helps her, shoving himself up off the grass. She begins brushing dirt from his shoulders, and he brushes his legs off before glancing up at her. "Presentable?"
"Not really," but she's smiling. "Come, let us eat and hear tales of the Lion."
Rilian tries to pay attention to the tales, he really does, but his eyes keep wandering to the singers, grouped at the back. Four Fauns, three Dryads, five Robins, and a Nightingale; none of them have scales, and all of them seem to be listening intently to Drinian recounting the tale of the white bird that led them out of Nightmare Island. No grimaces, no calculating glances—but Rilian remembers he's been fooled before, that he walked open eyed into the arms of his mother's killer. Why should today be different?
A maid takes over the next tale, for her ancestor was one of the first to see Aslan after the long Winter. Rilian again finds his attention wandering. He is glad when the tales are over. So, too, is the Ambassador who came, "for the sake of politeness, which is welcome in any country." Rilian tries not to be bothered by their similar reactions. But he is.
Supper is another simple affair, and Rilian says little. His thoughts are too full, but full of circles, going nowhere, leading to nothing. Ileana tries a few times to draw him out, and for her, he comes back to the present—but his thoughts take him away repeatedly.
Then comes the singing. Rilian kept his promise, and so a tall, gnarled Willow Dryad stays by him through the music. Near the front of the room, on the simple raised platform, stand the singers. The Nightingale sings a solo, the Fauns play pipes, and the group itself performs well.
Nothing happens. The group retires off the stage.
Then those who wish to sing step forward one by one, some requesting their favourite songs, and that the audience sing with them; some singing songs they have practised, or even written, for the occasion. Rilian sings when he should, but his eyes keep straying around the room. So it is that he notices Peri pushing Ileana towards the stage, one step at a time. He hesitates, watching. Ileana is protesting quietly, very quietly, but Peri is stronger than Ileana at this point, and she is winning. Rilian gets up—but they are too close to the stage. Peri pushes Ileana up on the first step, and by then people are watching.
Ileana makes her way up the stairs, and stands at the front, hands hesitant and hovering around her waist. "I do not know your songs," she says simply, "but we also sing praises to the Lion. Here is one of the songs of my people." And she sings.
The room is utterly quiet. Her voice is the only sound, clear, washing gently over the audience in the low portions and rippling with power when it climbs. Even Rilian's wandering attention is captured; he watches her face, he listens to her voice, and his heart is caught. He can see the underwater mountains the Lion shaped by His word, feel the power of the currents that would still at His command. It is easy to remember the Lion holds all things in His paws, to believe it.
When her song ends he takes a deep breath; around him he hears everyone else doing the same. Even the Dryad; someone could have assassinated him during that song and no one would have noticed.
Ileana is heading back towards the stairs. From the crowd a Faun calls, "Another!" His cry is picked up by the others very quickly, and Ileana stops, turning uncertainly.
"Another, please!" "Sing another!" "Sing again!"
Rilian does not join the chorus. The song is the closest he has felt in a long time to something holding his will in thrall; he does not want to hear it again. Even if it's about the Lion; on the heels of the song comes fear.
He glances around to see if anyone else feels it, and his eyes fall on the Ambassador. He is watching Ileana, also silent, eyes fixed on her face as she stands at the front of the dais once again. For once, there is no greed in his eyes, only wonder, and Rilian feels like he can't breathe.
Is she enchanting them? Could her song take away their will?
But no, his mind argues back, for her song dispelled the Ambassador's greed, not his will.
But then Ileana's next song begins, and Rilian looks back at her. This time it does not catch him, though it catches the rest of the audience. Every Narnian in the room—but not Rilian. He can keep himself from it if he wants to.
It reassures him. A little. But he feels himself wanting to fall back into the song, into this tale of the darkness that no light can reach, and the way the Lion knows all things even there.
He does not let himself listen.
When her song finishes, Ileana curtsies, wishes the audience a good evening, and walks swiftly down the steps. No one wants to follow such a singer, and so the Narnians begin to disburse.
Peri brings Ileana to Rilian. "Doesn't she sing beautifully?"
"Yes," Rilian says quietly, and Peri frowns.
"Didn't you like it?"
"Enough, Peri," Ileana says, as sharply as Rilian has ever heard her speak. "Good night, and sleep well."
"Very well, I was just trying to be helpful," Peri pouts. She pats Ileana on the arm, looks at Rilian and whispers something to the Mermaid, and then curtsies and leaves.
"Let's go listen to the stars," Ileana says abruptly. There's a plea in her voice, and Rilian takes her hand and goes swiftly—but not so quickly that she loses her breath—to the parapets above the sea. He keeps hold of her hand, and together they gaze up at the stars and listen to the song. They stay that way for more minutes than he counts.
He feels it when she takes her hand away, when the chill night air replaces the warmth of her fingers. He turns to look at her, to ask why, only to find she's wiping her face.
"Are you crying?" It's concern more than surprise; she had been silent, and he had not noticed.
She takes her hand away from her face and offers it to him. Clustered in her fingers are seven white pearls, perfectly matched. "I was going to give you thirty," she tells him, voice a little choked. "One for every day I was here; I was going to wait till I had them, but—Peri keeps pushing, and it makes me realise the gap between what I came to do and what I've done." She sucks in a breath, voice breaking. "It's only been thirteen days, I know; but that's almost half. I don't—I don't want to wait."
"Wait for what?" He doesn't take the pearls. The flash of the book returned to him, solid tears, and he should have known it meant pearls.
He does not want to take a gift from her that means farewell.
"Wait to give you this." She is still holding out the pearls to him, but her other hand reaches to her belt, to the small pouch there that he hadn't noticed. She unfastens the metal button and pulls out a small blue stone.
It's the one he bought for her at the market; he recognises it only after a few seconds of staring. For the blue has changed, and so has the shape, a smooth bottom with the top crested like waves.
It shifts in the starlight, the way a diamond seems to shift when the light reflects in different places. But this seems to hold a whole world of water in it, water reflecting the light. He reaches to take it—and not the pearls—and she drops it into his hand.
"Close your fingers over it," she tells him, and he does.
Her voice sounds in his ears, in his heart, a wordless song as high and haunting as the sea. There aren't any words, but he can hear the waves, the currents, the crash and the roar, the depths and the power. His fingers drop open as he gasps, the song stops, and he looks at her.
He'd just been listening to the music of the stars. This had the purity and power of their song, but held the depths of the earth as well.
This was the music of the sea, heard for the very first time.
"It will do two things," she tells him, free hand reaching up to touch his face. She wipes his cheek, and he realises he's crying. He hadn't known the song could be so lonely, but need nothing. "After I'm gone, it will still hold my voice. I sung to it every night while sitting in my window, hearing the song of the sea and the song of the stars. I tried to put both worlds in it. If you miss me, you can hold it." She reaches down to touch the stone, still held in his open hand. "But it does a little more. If you keep it with you, if you ever fall into the water, it will call the Merfolk to you, to save you. Take it, if you're on a ship." She looks up from the stone, into his face. "You will always be safe at sea," she promises, an oath as solemn as the one she took when coming to land.
Rilian closes his fingers back around it—around her fingers as well, and she jumps a little. The song fills both their ears; he can see her swaying to the notes. Rilian listens, hearing the water and the light running through it, the same in every note, but the song ever changing.
"This is your magical project?" he asks hoarsely, after several more minutes of listening to it.
"I wanted to give something to you. I put the song of the stars, the stars alone, in the white rock from the stream, but I, I thought to give that to my sister."
"It would be a tremendous gift," he says with half his attention. He's struggling, because this magic doesn't seem threatening, it's just a stone that sings or stills at his will—but he can feel a deep longing to close his fingers around it already, to hear that song again.
"I will listen to it and remember you," he promises suddenly. She smiles, and he is glad, glad that he made her happy, and glad she did not hear the promise he made to himself, to listen to it after the thirty days end and not before. If he can resist that long, then it should not be dangerous.
And he can listen to Ileana herself before then.
"Thank you," he adds, and she pats his hand.
"Here," she says, and offers him the pearls again.
"No."
"But—"
"I read that they are a farewell gift," he says quietly, and she looks at his hand holding the blue stone.
"So is that," she points out softly, and he looks at it too, at the beautiful, magical stone he holds in his hands.
"I am going to save you," he says, to her and to it. "This will not be the only way I can hear your voice." He closes her fingers over the pearls. "This gift is enough."
She wants to protest, he can see it on her face, but as he grants her the freedom to keep her secrets, she grants him this, that he need not take her gifts. She slips the seven pearls into her pouch, and Rilian smiles to think that she holds wealth enough to buy the food of the marketplace for a day, sitting in a small pouch at her waist.
"Tell me about the song of the sea?" he asks, for the silence is uncomfortable.
"It's the song we hear before we are born, the promise of the liquid that will give us life."
"It's a lonely thing for children to hear," Rilian comments, and she gives him a swift glance.
"Yes. It is the first lesson we learn, that we love the sea, but that it does not love us back. It is our home, our freedom, our song, and our strength, but it is not a loving haven. It holds danger and safety, strength and peril, and we must always remember that." She sighs. "And so we fall in love with things that cannot love us back."
She is not looking at Rilian as she says this, but Rilian still feels the sting of it. "I—" He means to say I'm sorry, but he can't, because he knows he's already falling for her. He also knows he shouldn't be, not till the mysteries are cleared up, not till he is sure Narnia will be better for her reign.
"It is all right," she says quietly. "Singing the songs earlier tonight—I remembered the Lion holds my future even here. I am content with that." She leans back against the stone, head tilting upwards. "But I still wanted to listen to the stars."
Rilian leans back against the stone as well, also looking up. He wishes, suddenly, that he had listened to her last song. That he'd let himself remember the Lion is greater than the dark, that it was defeated as surely as the darkness is defeated by the sun during each day.
It had been meant to be a day of rest, and Rilian, thinking through the hours and the way he'd spent them, realises it was anything but restful. So he closes his eyes, listens to the stars, and tries to remember the Lion.
* Credit where credit is due, ScribeofHeroes pointed out several chapters ago that, if Peri grows very attached to Ileana, her attitude towards Rilian might be a problem. I hadn't thought of that, but it's certainly accurate to reality.
I got TWO days in 6,900 words! Progress!