13. The Wounded Queen

Peter gazed about him at the faces of the king's advisers of political, military and social importance gathered around the long table. After his latest interaction with them in his delirium, the eldest Pevensie had since made amends and truly taken the time to learn about the people the new ruler of Narnia put his faith in. The Telmarine king had found himself a great blend of trusted people for his council; old and young, lords and soldiers, and not to mention a mouse (who was currently not attending) and a dwarf.

The meeting this morning was the first council since the young king had been stabbed, and so it had (as expected) begun with the highest advisers praising the lord's good health. The many long well-wishes reminded the Pevensie man of the old days, and as he glanced up at Caspian in the throne beside him, he could see the respectful mask begin to falter with fatigue. Peter glanced to the right side of the Telmarine, to Susan and Edmund who occupied those seats. Plainly, the younger Pevensie boy, too, was starting to get bored and managed to keep a straight face simply for his sister's sake. They both remembered the beratings they had sometimes received in the old days if they ever were less than respectful to any that stepped before the court.

Lucy was the only Pevensie not present today. Even as a young queen in their glory days had she found excuses to avoid tedious council meetings. In the past she had often spent the hours with the citizens instead, but upon this bright morning she had chosen to ride out with Reepicheep. The reason for her sudden decision had not been divulged, but with her protector and promise to not ride astray, Peter had reluctantly allowed her to slip from his watchful sight.

The eldest Pevensie focused his mind on the council as Lord Greagoir rose from his seat somewhat ceremoniously and gazed at the faces around him until his gaze found the king at the head of the table.

The old man inclined his head in a small bow before he stood tall and his bright eyes bore into the king. With a well-placed tongue, the man spoke, "Your highness, In honor of your return to full health once more, this council would wish to throw a banquet."

Peter noticed hos Caspian inconspicuously shifted in his seat and could guess exactly what was going through his friend's mind at the moment.

"A banquet...?" the king's thick accent slowly carried over the silence of the morning, like a man apprehensively approaching a danger on the road ahead. "Because I'm... not dead?"

Greagoir smiled warmly and opened his mouth to speak when lord Roshan on his right side interrupted. The Telmarine lord seemed more focused as he spoke in his darker voice, "Your close call with death, my king, reminded us all that you have yet to secure the throne, something that is much needed for the future of Narnia."

Caspian leaned forward in his seat and opened his mouth to retort when the elder, grey-haired man raised his hand in a calming notion. "Please," Greagoir pleaded and the king nodded his head for the man to continue. "Lord Roshan speaks a harsh reality, but reality nonetheless. For this reason, I wish to invite young ladies of Narnia and its allies, from whose graces you may choose a suitable queen."

"We mean you no disrespect," the Telmarine lord beside the elder man clarified with a softer tone than before, though his eyes remained steadfast on his king, "but if there is a threat hanging around your neck, and those of your friends, we consider it important to not delay your given word to this council. We need to repress the people's fear and make them see peace and prosperity on the near horizon."

The Telmarine king ran a hand across his jawline as he sighed deeply. It was plain to all in the room that he was considering the offer, but the struggle within was far from settled.

The Pevensie beauty on the king's right spoke up then. "My king, if I may," Susan's big, blue eyes awaited the king's encouraging nod before she continued, "The intention of granting your people hope is a good notion. No one should be discouraged about recent events when we know so little about its cause. You cannot risk that the people will fear a return of darker days alike the rule they had to endure under your uncle Miraz. They trust you, but they almost saw you die a few days ago... Surely, a celebration is in order for everyone involved."

There was silence in the grand hall for a minute in which everyone gazed at the king at the head of the table. At length, the handsome man nodded in defeat. "Very well. Then we shall have a banquet. Lord Greagoir, I leave the preparations entirely up to you, and I encourage you to enlist the help of Queen Susan. Also... you may invite whomever you desire. Shall we say that the celebrations will be seven days from today, so that people from afar will have time to join us here in Cair Paravel?"

The old lord bowed deep in gratitude. "Thank you, your highness."

"Then, if there are no other matters that cannot wait," Caspian looked around the table patiently, but none spoke up, "I call this council to an end."

The sounds of chairs scraping across the stone floor filled the room as the men around the table slowly got up and chatted among themselves merrily. At the head of the table, the Telmarine king turned to his right, but as he did, the brunette by his side practically jumped out of her seat and hurried down the length of the table to join Cornelius and Trumpkin in a discussion.

Peter's gaze followed her escape and he could not help but glance back at the bearded king and the man's disheartened face, before he, too, left the council hall.

Meanwhile, the youngest queen had spent the morning with her trusted mouse. The two had ridden half the morning around the city below the palace and met the citizens with great joy. Lucy had been happy to reacquaint with her old home once more, but this tour was not the true reason for her morning plan. After greeting the people, the girl and Reepicheep had spent the other half of the morning in the woods outside Cair Paravel.

Out there in the woods, she had searched for someone close to her heart that was still missing. Aslan. She had expected his arrival for many days now, even since before the events with the Erinyes, but afterwards she had been positive the mighty lion would appear before them and explain their plight. But none had come. Days and days had passed without anyone spotting their great leader.

After hours and hours of searching for him this day, not even Lucy had seen a glimpse of her old friend. The thought saddened her somewhat, but she had long since learned to be patient with Aslan. Whatever reason he had for not stepping forward yet would be revealed in time, she was sure. Still, a part of her wanted the answers handed to her now, so that she could let the questions of her return to Narnia rest in the back of her mind. Perhaps, which was more important, the answers to their mystery could help ease Susan's mind and let the elder girl find some peace. Lucy had grown quite tired of her sister's insistent talk of England.

After giving up their search, the young girl had steered her mare back towards the gate of the city and up the hill towards the palace. Atop the horse's head, the proud mouse stood watch and bowed his head to different children as the queen rode past them. The gates to the palace area opened before the queen and the young queen swiftly rode into the pale court yard. She dismounted and patted her mare's coffee colored neck as she steered them over to a bale of hay by the stables.

"How was your ride?"

The young brunette turned her head to the voice and saw Edmund descend the stone staircase leading from the main building. He had a warm smile on his face as he walked over to his younger sister. Dressed in deep green and grey, he looked as much at home as she had ever seen him in Narnia, and she was glad for it. It seemed the only one as happy to be back as Lucy was the brother that soon reached her side.

"I'd say it went rather well," Lucy replied and Reepicheep bowed to them before he scurried off to acquire information about the morning's council meeting. "How was your morning, Ed?"

The young man chuckled as he leaned against a pillar to the side of the court yard. "The council was... interesting. There's going to be a banquet in a week. To honor that Caspian didn't die. And... you'll love this part, the advisers have taken it as a sign that the young king must marry. Preferably yesterday, from the sound of it. I don't think they're going to get off his back about it now. They've even gotten Susan on their side, which seems rather odd..."

"Perhaps she's simply happy there's going to be a banquet?" the young girl proposed with a shrug. "She did always enjoy those social gatherings more than you and I. She was always much better at the social aspects of court than we were."

The young man nodded. His expression suddenly changed as he glanced about to make sure no one was eavesdropping. He pushed away from the pillar and came closer to his younger sister as he lowered his voice and asked, "So... did you see him?"

Lucy frowned. "Who?"

"Did you see him?" Edmund clarified in a slower voice as his intelligent eyes spoke volumes without words being said aloud.

Lucy smiled up at her dear brother. The hope that shone bright in his eyes reminded her of exactly why she had gone out to search for Aslan. She hadn't told any of her siblings the truth behind her morning trip, but wasn't surprised that her brother had known anyway. The two of them had formed a close relation and trust since that first time he doubted her about Aslan. She was grateful to have at least one sibling that trusted her as Edmund did, no matter what.

"No. I didn't, Ed."

The man's pale eyes lost some of its hopeful spark as he nodded. "What do you suppose that means?"

"I don't know," the young woman admitted with a shrug and brushed some dust from her riding dress. "He'll come when the time's right. As he always does. Now... it's almost lunch, isn't it? Why don't we find Susan and hear what plans she already has for the banquet?"

Seated before her dressing table mirror, Susan gazed into the reflected windows to her own soul and found only an emptiness looking back at her through pale orbs.

"I saw your exit today, sis... You practically ran from him. Is it so hard being back around him?"

With her thoughts interrupted, the young woman reached for a comb and started to run through her long, dark curls as she glanced back at her elder brother in the open doorway. She knew it was useless and that he had seen her emptiness, but a part of still wished to play the charade.

"It's polite to knock, you know," was the only reply she offered with a frown upon her fair features.

With a sigh, Peter walked into his sister's bedroom and closer to her position by the grand bed. As he sank onto the covers not far from her, he said, "I hate seeing you like this. I hate seeing what he's made you become. I know you're hurting-"

Susan's frown intensified as she turned to interrupt her brother. "It's not Caspian's fault. It's my own."

"Oh?" the man inquired. "How so?"

The young woman faltered. Peter didn't know the truth, no one did. And the fewer who did know, the better, Susan figured. It would be much easier getting a clean exit that way, and perhaps it would spare her heart some of the anguish it was bound to suffer. "It doesn't matter, Peter. You known none of it does. We have to remember that we'll soon be back home and everything will be normal. None of this - Narnia - will matter any more."

The young man bit his lip and shook his head as he listened to her rant. At length, he breathed with an anguished sigh, "... You sound so distant, Su. Like you've left this place already. Though, we are in Narnia, not in England yet."

"The sooner we go back the better," Susan spat and turned from her brother. Words were beginning to fail her and stuck in her throat as they pained her to speak. "I don't think I can pretend to be happy here any longer."

"You weren't pretending very hard, were you?" the eldest Pevensie questioned. He rose from the bed and placed one of his hands on his sister's slender shoulder and gave it a brotherly squeeze. "I know it's been harder on you than anyone else. Just... It would be nice to see my sister, and not this brooding shell you've become. I didn't think he would have this affect on you, I really didn't. But seeing you now... I don't know."

Without another word, Peter squeezed her shoulder once more and exited her bedroom. Within seconds, Susan felt the impact of his words hit her and she tried to control her breathing in hopes of holding the tears at bay, but it was to no avail. Silently, they fell from her eyes, like soldiers in a battle or pieces of a heart drifting on an ocean. She closed her eyes tight and tried to focus her thoughts on anything and everything that wasn't associated with her heart breaking inside her chest.

The words Caspian had spoken to her the day before still echoed like a haunting plea inside her mind and made it impossible to think about anything else. 'Very well. If this is what you truly wish, I will take a step back and honor your decision.'

"Susan...? What's wrong?" the unmistakable voice of her younger sister carried over the despair and the elder girl immediately flew from her seat and turned to see both her younger siblings had managed to startle her. Edmund and Lucy wore matching expressions of worry on their faces as they lingered in the doorway.

The eldest sister hurriedly swiped at the tears that stained her cheeks and tried to cover the truth with a white lie. "It's these silly costumes, the corsets. They're much tighter around the chest than I remember from the old days."

"Mm, yes," her younger brother hummed impassively as his face scrunched up. "Thank you for that information. Fascinating. Really, it is."

The eldest beauty managed a tight smile as she glared at her brother. "Don't patronize me, Edmund."

"That's kind of difficult, isn't it? Being your younger brother and everything?" he retorted.

"Oh, you'd always find a way."

"That is very true about our brother," Lucy agreed, but her wary expression didn't falter as she walked over to stand right in front of her sister with a brave stance. Clearly the young woman wasn't intending to back down from this. "But let's not get sidetracked. Please tell us what's the problem."

"And, please," their brother added from the sidelines as he, too, stepped up to join the intervention for his eldest sister. "Don't pretend you're hurting because of a tight corset when all three of us know that's a lie. We can guess, however, the name of your pain. I won't say it aloud, but it rhymes with 'paspian'."

Lucy rolled her eyes at her brother's words, but then held her sister's gaze as she declared, "We're both old enough to understand now, you know."

The dark-haired man shrugged. "Wish I wasn't. But I am."

As his younger sister punched him on the arm, Susan released an amused breath and took her sister's hand in her own. "You've grown up so fast, Lucy..."

"You think?" the young girl asked as happiness touched the edge of her bright voice. Susan smiled and nodded as she gently patted her sister's soft cheek before she reached for her brother's hand also. Lucy asked, "Now... Why don't you tell us what's really the matter with you?"

Goraidh stormed through the open hallway in a fury. A servant jumped out of his way, spilling the contents on the tray she carried as she did. Goraidh took no notice, instead he hurried on towards the door from which the servant girl had but recently exited through.

Without a knock, the lord threw the oak door open and entered the chamber. The room was lit up by the sharp sunlight outside and the rich colors of fabrics upon the bed, wall and table – all a deep red – appeared beautiful yet sickeningly like blood. Upon the chair beside the table sat the Sorcerer, who looked anything but surprised upon the man's hasty entrance. He shuffled a deck of cards and did little to acknowledge the sudden presence in his private chamber.

"Days," Goraidh began with uncontrolled anger making his voice quiver with every word. "Days without news from you! Your precious minions failed their task; and this I had to hear from my own spies. You should have told me of your failure!"

The Sorcerer looked down at the cards in his hands and twirled one of them between his fingers. Tarot cards, Goraidh noticed. To foresee the future. Bah! If the future could have been foreseen, why had the Sorcerer failed?

"Patience is not your strongest attribute," the Sorcerer spoke slowly without looking up and his hoarse, dark voice was a mixture of amusement and boredom. The mysterious man focused all his attention on placing a card upon the red fabric. The other man looked down at the image. It depicted a heart aflame in torment.

"Tell me something I don't know," the lord huffed and walked over to the window. It was tall and narrow and from it the man could see the open field far below, scorching under the sun in the skies. "... What, exactly, do you propose we do now that you've failed?"

The Sorcerer sighed and leaned back in his seat, the wood creaked as he did. For the first time during this meeting, the man turned his gaze slowly to watch the impatient leader by the window. Where his voice had held emotion, his pale eyes shone with impassive detachment as he met the fiery gaze of his host.

"I told you," he began and stretched out an arm towards Goraidh. The latter watched as the Sorcerer, with a quick flick of the wrist, conjured a new tarot card into his palm and held it out for the other man. "I have a few cards left up my sleeve."

Goraidh's gaze flickered from the magical entity and back to the card. In swift strides he walked over and snatched it into his own calloused hand. Goraidh inspected the card and frowned before turning his gaze back to the Sorcerer and awaited an explanation.

With a slight tip of the head, the man did not disappoint. "We'll attempt a stealthy attack on our targets in Cair Paravel. In seven days, a feast will be held to celebrate king Caspian X's return to health. We shall send a special guest to do our bidding."

The leader scratched his head as he waved his hand in approval of the plan as his gaze remained fixed on the tarot card in his hand. "Who?"

"Your eldest son."

The implication had little effect on Goraidh. He knew what the Sorcerer was suggesting and the prize it could entail. Still, it was for a worthy cause and his son would understand that the potential benefits greatly outweighed the risks of being thrown into the lions' den. With a nod, the man accepted. "Yes, yes. What is the plan?"

The Sorcerer pointedly spoke, "If we attempt blunt force, we will be discovered and fail. If we do an open statement, they will hinder us. It must be a personal attack, alike the Erinyes' attempt to drive the Pevensies to insanity."

"You talk of feasts and personal attacks. You have yet not learned to speak plainly. Tell me what I wish to know," the leader demanded as he leaned heavily against the table top and placed the tarot card upon the red table cloth and pushed it toward the magician.

"I have given you the answer already," was the cryptic reply as the Sorcerer nodded down at the card and pushed it back to the king. Depicted upon the card was a sinister design with dark crows along the edges, so real it seemed they could take off and fly out of the picture without any effort. In the middle of these crows was a woman with blood flowing from a wound upon her chest and with a dagger in her left hand. At the bottom of the card lay a discarded crown, speckled with blood from the woman's open wound.

"And what is it?"

A grim, malice smirk tugged at the corner of the Sorcerer's lips and at last, his eyes shone with passion. "This," he said in a smooth voice that rolled off his tongue like a serpent's hiss, "is the Wounded Queen."

To be continued.