15 - Family Matters

Susan rushed through the halls of Cair Paravel, her hands trembling so hard she could barely hold onto the small, mirrored bowl between them. Castle staff turned to watch her with alarm as she raced past, clearly worrying that something was wrong with her or the babe within her softly rounded belly. With the others gone from the Cair—Or missing, she thought, cursing herself for Edmund's disappearance for the millionth time—the staff had taken to watching her and her unborn child with something like desperation. No one wanted her out of their sight, and Susan, who had never minded staying behind before, began to pine for the fields. She longed to join her family out there in the wild, defending Narnia with more than mere words and laws.

But her place was here. The Cair was Narnia's beating heart. The country's people looked to its white towers and snapping flags for courage during this, of all times. It was a sign that Narnia still stood. To that end, Susan threw herself so doggedly into maintaining the Cair and its day-to-day business that even Saris begged her to slow down.

No, she had insisted. This is what Aslan means me to do—to keep our home until everyone has returned to it. Everyone, she'd repeated with a hitch in her throat.

A satyr approached her with a frown of concern on his face. "Back to what you're doing," she panted as she went. "I'm fine, I'm fine, just go!" She raced down a flight of stairs so fast that the Dog she passed gave a worried whine. "Stop it, my feet still work perfectly," she snapped.

Now on the main floor, she pelted to the state room and, one-handed, shoved the door open without hesitation.

Behind the desk was Saris in his human form—not sitting, but pacing, with a sheaf of letters in his hands. His gaze landed on the bowl tucked in her arm. His mouth opened, but before he could speak, she banged the mirrored vessel onto the desk. The red soot in the bowl shifted, and the low flame consuming it shivered, then righted itself into a steady burn again. "Tell him, Asha."

Asha's voice floated out of the smoke rising from the bowl, echoing faintly. "It is nothing, Sister. I'm safely guarded. And I am well. That means Edmund is well."

Susan glared at Saris, willing him to take her part. "The White Witch has been seen in Selbaran. Too close to Silverwood, Saris. She's in danger, and Edmund too, if she's caught—wherever he's gone. Tell her."

Saris thought for a long moment. "Have we considered for a moment—forgive me, Asha—that he might be among the Witch's people?"

"He wouldn't!" Susan cried. Her outrage rang through the room.

"I know his heart, Saris," came Asha's voice.

Susan settled. A little. At least on this, she and Asha agreed. "Come to Cair," she said desperately.

"My place right now is with my people, Susan, as yours is at Cair. I cannot risk the fall of Selbaran in my absence, especially if Jadis is here as the reports say. And if she is ... I will fight. I can do no less."

"But Edmund! Silas! At least send Silas to me," Susan pleaded.

Asha's laughter sifted up from the bowl, an odd, carefree counterpoint to Susan's trepidation. "Some things you may never understand about us, good sister. Silas leads the Selbarani dryads in the search for Jadis."

"He's only a boy!"

"By human standards," Asha admitted. "But he has gained his dryad power, and he uses it to search the forests for her while I guard Silverwood." Susan heard the smile in Asha's voice even through her own distress. "I could not keep him from doing his part if I wanted to. He has too much of Edmund in him."

Susan could hardly voice her next words. "H-Have you heard news of Aslan?"

A long pause. "No. But you must believe, Susan, that he will come when it is time. Be well," Asha said, and then the soot snuffed out.

Susan stared at the remnants of smoke curling up toward the buttressed ceiling of the state room. "Saris ..."

He drifted toward her as smoothly as if he were in his Jinn form, and took her hands in his own. "Asha is courageous and cunning, my heart. She would not endanger her son or your brother in any undue way. I am glad of her information, for it means the Witch has not yet accumulated the strength to attack Narnia. Peter and Cori are safe from her, for now."

"And Edmund?" she murmured, fighting through the pain in her heart. "No letters, no word? And Lucy ..." She couldn't say it. The Lion would have made it known if Lucy were gone to his country ... wouldn't he? Tears filled her eyes. What if the Witch sought to eliminate them, one by one, to take Narnia?

Susan struggled past the ache of not knowing her siblings' fates. Jadis would never win. Not while a single heir of Pevensie blood was alive to sit at Cair Paravel. She stroked her belly. With her last breath, she'd see to it their home was preserved.

She owed that to Edmund and Lucy.

Saris raised a warm hand to cup her cheek. "You should rest."

"I will," she said, raising her chin. "When they're all home."

- # -

Lucy woke early, according to her internal clock. She sat up and stretched, then left the cavern without delay.

She'd always found it useful to be up and about before anyone else stirred. Now was the time to see without being seen, to think without distraction, to plan without interruption.

And she needed to plan.

Now that others knew of Edmund's identity and whereabouts, it would not be long before his alliance with Jadis's army was exposed for the hoax it was. They needed to find the White Witch, or infiltrate her high-ranking officers and learn of her whereabouts before Ed's network of spies faltered. If that happened, she hated to think what sacrifices her brother would have to make. What more could he give, that hadn't been taken from him by duty or disaster?

Whom did her brother trust that could go to Jadis with immunity?

Lucy looked for her brother aboard The Phoenix, which had been returned to the water. Repairs must have been completed late last night.

No Edmund. No Arrow, either. And no Vandelar.

She hurried from the ship to another cavern, this one accompanied by the welcome sight of Darius standing in the opening with a ready spear. She nodded to him and entered. Ed was already up, and donning a heavy leather jerkin. Nalis was strapping swords to his back. "Going somewhere?" she asked.

Edmund finished buckling a pair of leather bracers to his forearms. "Selbaran."

A thrill of fear coursed through Lucy. "You're going to put your whole plan into jeopardy."

"Jadis was seen there. What choice do I have?"

"What about your—" She looked around before continuing. "—people? The gold? Are you just going to let all your work collapse?"

He turned on his heel and glared at her. "Would you have me lose my wife and son too?"

"Think, Edmund, think. No one's seen Jadis, even though her allies are everywhere. How do you know she's there? Who told you?"

"Faun Kamus."

"Kamus," Lucy repeated. Shock and dread washed through her. "Kamus never left the ship. He avoided the Court of Truth."

A scuffle ensued behind her. Lucy spun toward the entrance, her knife already in hand. Behind her, she heard the hiss of a drawn blade, though she'd seen no weapon on Ed's belt.

At the opening of the cavern, Darius stood, tail lashing and spear pointed at Vandelar's chest. Behind Van stood Arrow, rumpled and sweating. Van's gaze met hers. "Kamus has gone to the Witch's people," he panted. His gaze shot to Edmund. "She knows."

Lucy looked to Edmund. In his hand was his sword, Wandbreaker. His face was full of grim distrust as he stared at Vandelar. Then Ed met her eyes, and she saw the barely-restrained panic in his gaze. "Tell me now not to go to my family."

- # -

Standing in the ship's cabin, Van glared at the captain—at King Edmund of Narnia—with his fists balled. "I am not a spy for the Witch!"

Edmund glanced sidelong at Lucy. Some unspoken conversation passed between them, then Edmund turned back to him from where he sat at the table. "Your family is allied to the Ettin hags, is it not?"

Van felt gut-punched. He shot a dismayed look at Lucy and wished he'd never told her anything about his history. Now it lay out in the open like evidence at a trial, a shame for all to see. "My father pulls at strings without knowing whether the puppet will dance or strangle him," Van snapped. He kicked at the base of the captain's bunk. "Why would I come to you and warn you of a traitor if I wanted to lead you into a trap? You should have taken me back to the Court of Truth if you didn't believe me!"

Lucy rose from her seat with an impossible look of calm on her face. She approached him. Van jerked back a step, still fuming, betrayed. How dared she look so serene when she'd torn his life apart and left it on display?

She stepped closer and laid a hand on his arm as if she hadn't noticed his agitation. "I believe you," she said quietly. "I don't need the Court. I have Arrow's word, and my own eyes."

"And him?" Van snarled in Edmund's direction. "I followed him before he knew anything about me. Now that he knows, I'm not good enough?"

"I have not judged you," Edmund said. His tone rang with a chill authority—a man unused to being disrespected. "Sit." When Van didn't, he added, "Unless you're going for mutiny, I'm still your captain."

Van kicked a chair away from the table and dropped into it. Lucy sank back to the seat beside him, much more calmly. "This is not an interrogation, Van." She spoke gently, and he resented it.

Edmund sat back, thumbing a knot in the wood of the table's edge. Finally, he said, "Names make no difference. I am who I was when you signed on. I have been that man for most of my life, barring a few grievous errors which I have been blessed with the chance to rectify." His gaze met Van's, sharp and serious. "You are still my first mate, regardless of heritage. The only one in this room concerned about the status of your pedigree is you."

"Then why do you want to know if I call them allies?"

Edmund tilted his head and studied Van with a discomfiting attentiveness. "Still want to follow me?"

Van lowered his gaze to the table. He felt the captain's gaze still on him, patient and intent. But when he looked up again, it was to Lucy, all long lashes and sun-washed hair and full lips. She watched him with those eyes, those too-kind eyes that seemed to find something important in him where there was nothing. What could she possibly see in someone who had dedicated his life to theft and deception? Who shouldn't even be, if the world had any sense of rightness at all?

And now they wanted him to accept the heritage he'd spent his life denying.

He fumed for another minute, staring at the grain of the table's wood, then raised his eyes to the captain—Edmund. The man's entire posture had altered somehow—a mirror of what Van had seen in the Court of Truth. Or maybe it had always been there, and he'd never noticed because it was easier to accept the story.

But the look in the king's eyes was exactly the same as it had always been.

Just.

Van steeled himself. "What do I have to do?"