24 - In The Coils Of The Cobra

"He's going to what?"

The dwarf before Lucy shuffled his feet and yanked his cap off his head. "P-Parley with the White Witch ... Your Majesty."

Lucy tried not to shake with terror ... or shake the dwarf out of sheer frustration. Was Edmund out of his mind? "Thank you. Carry on."

The dwarf hurried away with alacrity, and Lucy ran for the back stairs of The Phoenix. She anticipated Jadis would keep to the protocols of parley just long enough for Edmund to set foot on her ship. She guessed Ed thought the same, but he still hadn't told her of the meeting—undoubtedly because she would have wanted to come. Jadis would have accepted her as well. The Witch would be elated to have not one, but two of the Narnian royalty in her clutches. Ed probably thought to prevent that by keeping Lucy from joining him.

Well, it was a younger sister's prerogative to ignore her brother from time to time.

She hurried up to the main deck and scrambled toward the rear mast. Clutching a rope ladder reaching to its top, she scurried up to where Arrow lay perched on the beam. A sailor passed her by on his way down, but when he saw her, he merely muttered a greeting. Everyone was too occupied themselves (and too respectful of her title) to ask about her business.

Arrow paused in preening a wing when she arrived at the crossbeam. "Your Majesty?"

"We have work, Arrow. Ed's going to parley with the White Witch, and we need to be there in case it goes badly."

The griffin angled his head. It was a mark of how well they knew one another that he didn't even try to dissuade her. "Which you believe it will."

She crouched on the beam beside him, holding on to a rope to steady herself even though there wasn't much turbulence to rock the ship, this close to the Windless Boundary. "Do you think for a second she'll let him go once she has him? I know exactly what he thinks he's doing. He'll try to draw her focus to him, and away from the battle. She's obsessed with him because he beat her, and he knows it." She hesitated, with horrible images of Edmund beaten, bloodied, and murdered whirling through her thoughts. Her voice shook when she spoke again. "I'm afraid for him."

"Then what are you waiting for?" said a voice behind her.

She whirled around so fast, she slipped.

Van caught her foot and pushed her back up to the beam. His bronze eyes glinted. "He didn't tell me, either," Van said, answering her unspoken question. "He's a damn fool, and you're a damner one." He turned his attention to the griffin. "Feathers, stay out of sight unless you see them preparing for battle. Then fly to the Selbarani ships and signal them for the attack."

"What are you going to do?" Lucy asked.

He gave a grim smile. "What I do best."

- # -

Edmund arrived on the deck of the White Witch's flagship hoping he'd buried his dread deep enough. He had hoped never to see her again—not in waking life. She still haunted his nightmares freely, reducing him in spite of all his current power and courage to that ten-year-old boy who would always fear her. Some nights, he woke gasping and sweating. Those were the nights he was glad he slept alone, that Asha had been far away in Selbaran for the year and more he'd been at sea. She'd sense his distress, but he was glad she couldn't see it for herself. He would not tell even her of the horrifying things Jadis did to his loved ones in those nightmares. Things that left him trembling and unable to speak, until dawn came and he forced himself to put his mental armor back in place for the day.

Parley. He knew that the Witch would refuse any terms he gave, but he would observe the custom and try to prevent war if he could.

Foolish, maybe. He hadn't asked anyone to accompany him—even Van. All hands aboard The Phoenix needed to prepare for attack, and he expected it to begin almost as soon as he met Jadis for this already-failed discussion of terms.

Two burly Calormene guards intercepted him and escorted him to the White Witch's cabin. He dug his nails into his palms until he was certain he was bleeding. A few werewolves stood nearby and must have scented the blood, because they gave him eager leers. Ed could smell blood himself, and not just his own. The ship had obviously been in a terrible battle recently, and the scent of gore hadn't quite been scrubbed away. He said a silent prayer for the souls who'd faced Jadis and her mob.

Calormenes eyed him with clear intentions of cutting his throat and taking whatever valuables he had on his person. They would find none. Any treasure he'd lifted from other ships had gone straight back to Narnia through his connections—minus the percentage he'd allowed to slip through to the Witch's allies. He wondered grimly how much of that offset was financing this floating butcher block. He blessed his luck that he'd made it this long without detection.

No more hiding now. A tremor ran through him. He longed to lay it all down and hope for a quick death, but he had made Aslan a promise to see this through. Whatever else happened was in the Lion's paws.

Boggles hissed as he passed them. A werewolf snarled, uncomfortably close and baring its teeth as if to bite him. He smelled its hot, rotten-meat breath and held his own.

All too soon, his escorts banged on the door of what would be the captain's suite. A cold, familiar female voice bade them enter, and the taste of fear filled Edmund's mouth like a tongueful of iron filings. He beat it back viciously and locked his knees, trying desperately to keep the faces of his loved ones in his mind's eye. Lucy. Susan. Peter. Cori. Asha. Silas. Aslan. He said the litany over and over in his mind, an interminable space of time crammed into that instant before the door swung open.

And she was there, tall, pale, frigid as ever. Edmund wondered if the cold air rolling out of the room and around his feet was his imagination. The Calormenes scrambled away so fast, he doubted it. His heartbeat slammed in his ears as he took in her porcelain-white face and a gown that shimmered like the inside of an oyster shell.

Jadis fixed her granite-cold eyes on him. And she actually smiled. "Come in, dear heart."

His breath whooshed out past his lips. Starved for air, his lungs burned. But he stepped inside and closed the door.

- # -

Jadis gripped her wand and closed her eyes, soaking in a feeling of elation so foreign, so powerful, she shook with it. She hadn't felt anything in more years than she could count. Long life had drained her of emotion.

Except this. A roaring, raging fire of fierce exultation that burned through her with such power that she wanted more of it. Needed more. Needed it the way men needed air to breathe.

Even witnessing Aslan's death had not given her this rush. She had thought it would. But afterward, she'd only been able to look away with the cold knowledge that her great enemy was gone, that there was nothing left to oppose her, nothing to aspire to. Nothing to marker the endless years left to her.

She opened her eyes and fixed hungrily on the speeding pulse in Edmund's throat. Nothing else gave away his fear of her. And he feared her. She knew it. She reveled in it. Reveled in the knowledge that he could stand there, so terrified, not moving.

There would be no rescue this time. Aslan was not here to save his beloved kings and queens. In all her travels, she had seen no trace of him, heard only rumours.

She stared at Edmund, feeding on his fear for a few delicious moments, then stalked toward him. "You've changed, darling."

His eyes narrowed a fraction. A successful blow. Someone he cared for must use that endearment. "You haven't," he said, and the steadiness in his voice infuriated her.

She loved even that.