Author's note: Thanks to Psyche for some medical advice used in this first scene! :)

Chapter 15 – Tears

Cor slowly wrapped his fingers around the strangely-shaped hilt of the knife. He glanced at Tiar. "Are you sure this is right?"

Tiar nodded. "Quite sure. Why I can clearly remember—" He stopped.

"You aren't sure, are you?" Cor demanded, retracting his hand in sudden relief. He did not want to draw the blade out.

Tiar sighed. "Alright, we better wait for the healers." Cor instantly relaxed his back but still watched his brother anxiously. Tiar softly padded towards Susan's still form. Her eyes fluttered slightly, but she did not fully stir. Tiar returned to Cor's side and gently prodded his elbow with his head. "Help me get Queen Susan to her bed," Tiar instructed. Cor obliged and together they managed to clumsily lift her form. Cor was stronger than the Tiger and carried most of the weight himself. They set her on the bed as gently as possible.

A groan escaped Susan's lips and she slowly blinked and rubbed her eyes. "Cor?"

"Yes, I'm here," he answered, moving to where she could see him better.

"What happened?" she asked, her eyes closing again. But before Cor could answer, Tiar smoothly sided up against her, talking in hushed tones, trying to convince her to close her eyes and rest. After some protests, she finally agreed. Gradually her eyes closed and her breathing settled into a steady rhythm.

Cor quickly returned to his place beside Corin who still haven't moved. Cor crouched beside him, gently stroking the blond strands of his brother's hair. Tiar lowered himself to the rug beside the two boys, close enough for Cor to reach out and touch the silky stripes. Cor felt the tremors run through the Tiger's body, but he was not rebuked for his touch.

"Is Corin going to be alright?" Cor asked.

"Yes, Prince Cor. I am sure that your royal brother will be hale again soon," Tiar promised. He took pity on the boy whose shoulders were shaking. Cor looked up with tears shining in his eyes.

"But what if Corin doesn't make it? What if you are wrong?" The boy buried his face in his arms and muttered, "I promised Father and King Edmund that I would look after Corin. I failed them. I broke my promise."

Tiar was at a loss for words, unable to respond. Doubts and fears gnawed viciously at Cor's anxious mind. It felt like an eternity since he had first discovered his brother's state. A soft knock on the door announced the arrival of Kry and the healers.

Soon Cor was dragged to his feet and ushered out of the way as the two head physicians examined his brother. They quickly decided to move him to his own chambers. An assistant helped them carry the young boy down the hall, Cor lurking behind. One of the healers placed a hand on Cor's shoulder as they came to the doorway of Corin's room.

"You did well," he announced. "It was wise not to try to move him on your own."

"T-thank you," Cor stammered, though it didn't help him feel any better.

"Now if you will excuse me."

"Of course." Cor stepped out of the way as the healer returned to examine Corin.

Prince Luzan sat at Edmund's left at the hastily erected tables. Oreius stood near Edmund's right, his eyes alert and ever watching. Galen felt nearly like an outsider as he lurked on the outskirts of the gathering. But he was required to be present since he was a witness. Amon perched on the edge of a stool, waiting for the verdict upon his uncle. His eyes were anxious and continually flitted from Edmund's stony face to his uncle's nervous demeanor.

The trial began smoothly and continued at a fast pace. Heated debates rose from the table. Prince Luzan denied his man had done anything wrong, when he knew the truth. The witnesses steadily argued back. Dissention spiraled out of control, but Edmund, practiced as he was, soon retained it and the trial continued.

Prince Luzan slickly tried to sway the crowd again, but they knew – even the Telmarines knew – the truth. All too quickly, the chosen jury of six Narnian lords and six Telmarine officers selected their answer.

The man was guilty. There were no doubts. But as for the sentence, Edmund kept his promise to Amon and managed to alleviate it slightly. Since the man was not a Narnian citizen, they could only lightly punish him. Under Narnian law, Amon's uncle was commanded to not set foot in Narnia for two years. However, the Telmarines reserved the right to try him when they returned to Telmar.

The trial being completed, Edmund set about planning the arrangements and instructions for the Telmarines' return march. But since it was nearing evening, the Telmarines assembled a makeshift camp on the outskirts of the Narnian encampment. Edmund made sure that watchful Narnian guards were stationed all around.

Amon tagged after King Edmund, becoming his shadow as he went about his duties, until Edmund assigned Amon a job of his own; helping Galen and a few others tally the count of Telmarine weapons which had been confiscated.

"Eighty-five," Amon muttered. "Eighty-six, eighty seven." Galen tallied the numbers on a parchment as the boy counted. Amon glanced up and saw Edmund across the camp. He waved and returned to his tallying job.

A smile flickered across Edmund's face as Amon waved. Then Edmund bent his head wearily and watched the flickering flame of the torch sitting upon his makeshift desk. It was far too late to be writing, yet he knew in the next few days he would have precious little time to write his sister, informing her of all the developments.

Now that he reflected on the day, Edmund realized that it had been far easier than he had expected. Surely the Telmarines couldn't have fallen in one day! Yet he knew it had to be true. It brought a smile to his face. Thank you, Aslan. He rejoiced silently.

With a smile upon his face, Edmund dipped his quill into the stained inkwell and soon the scratching of the pen filled his ears.

Dearest sister,

Praise the Lion for his faithfulness. Truly, his mercies are new every morning. He has granted us victory this day. Thank Cor for believing that we would succeed. The plan fell into place smoothly. It is all a flurry of excitement as I look back on it now. There were few causalities. More Telmarines were lost than Narnians. It is all over. They have surrendered and will return to Telmar shortly. I did not think it would so easily be won, but victory is ours. It will still be several weeks before I return to Cair Paravel, however. You are in my prayers constantly, Su.

With love,

Ed

When Edmund looked up again, the sun began to slip below the horizon. Edmund stretched his arms, yawning all the while, and stopped when he noticed that Amon quietly stood in front of his desk.

"Finished already?" Edmund questioned, letting his arms return to their former position upon his desk.

Amon shook his head. "Master Galen said I could go. Told me to get some sleep."

Edmund nodded in agreement. "It has been a long day. Well, Amon, you are released from your duties for bed." He smiled and began to fold his letter to Susan. Amon still hesitated. Edmund looked up with concern. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Amon responded. "It's just that—" He broke off. Edmund waited patiently. "Well, I-I can't sleep," Amon stuttered. "I'm not tired yet. Is there anything else I can do to help?"

Edmund frowned. "Amon, please, if there is something upsetting you, you may confide in me."

"There is nothing," Amon replied, not meeting Edmund's gaze. His eyes brightened as they strayed to Edmund's sheathed sword leaning against the leg of the desk. "Could I polish your sword, perhaps?"

Edmund hesitated. Caring for his sword was a chore that he generally reserved for himself. But he saw the pleading in Amon's eyes and relented. Amon fetched a clean rag and deposited himself on a log a little distance from Edmund where he began to scrub vigorously.

Edmund returned to his papers. He wasn't sure how much time passed before he heard hooves approaching. He glanced over his shoulder as Oreius came to a halt beside him. Edmund followed Oreius's gaze to where Amon was still cleaning the sword.

"Shouldn't he be asleep?" Oreius questioned.

Edmund shook his head and shrugged. "He said he couldn't, and he still wanted something to do, so I let him polish my sword."

Oreius nodded as he watched the boy work. "There is something that I don't trust about him."

"Oh, nonsense, Oreius!" Edmund laughed quietly. "He is everything but dishonest." But something – something that Edmund couldn't put a finger on – didn't feel right about the boy. He quickly brushed aside the feeling and hoped that Oreius was wrong.

Cor fidgeted with his tunic uncomfortably, hovering as close as he dared. He was scared. Terrified described it better. He wished that Susan would wake up. He knew that she always had comforting words ready for any incident. The healer came towards him.

"Prince Cor," he began, "we have examined your brother and cleaned the wound, but it is large enough and deep enough that it requires surgery." Cor had assumed this from the start so he wasn't sure why his hands suddenly felt clammy as he clasped them. The healer continued, "Would you like to be present, or not? It is perfectly understandable if you decline."

Cor hesitated, casting a quick glance at his brother. "I-I think I'll stay."

"Are you sure, Prince Cor?

"No," Cor replied quietly.

Kindly, the healer smiled. "I think it is best if you wait outside. I do not doubt your courage, but perhaps this arrangement shall be best."

Cor nodded, feeling slightly relived, but still berating himself. The healer ushered him out of the room closed the door behind him. Cor sank to the floor, pulling his knees up to his chest. He bent his head and tried not to cry, but hot tears trickled down his freckled cheeks. Everything that had built up inside him during the last half an hour suddenly came out.

As he heard the soft rustle of long skirts, he looked up, brushing away the tears with the back of his hand. He noticed Susan coming towards him, her hair disarrayed and her blouse wrinkled. She quickened her pace and sank to her knees beside him.

"Cor? Cor, what's wrong?" she asked, her blue eyes earnest and searching. He knew that she didn't remember what had happened. He cast his eyes down and turned his head away. She cupped her hand against his cheek fondly and gently turned his head towards her again. "Cor, what happened?" she repeated.

"I-it's Corin," he finally sobbed out. "Corin's been wounded."

Susan's face displayed her open shock. Slowly the memories began to return to her. Corin. The knife. Her horn on the floor. Passing out. "Where is Corin now?" she asked quietly. Cor motioned with his head towards the door. Susan nodded in understanding. "Is the wound deep?"

"Yes, very," Cor whispered. "I'm scared for him, Queen Susan," he admitted. "We've been in scrapes before, but I've never seen Corin this-this still." He fumbled for the words. "What if he doesn't recover? It will be my fault. I promised Father that I would keep him safe."

"Nay, Cor," Susan chided. "It isn't your fault. You couldn't have prevented it." She internally shuddered as she wondered who had been lurking in her room, knife in hand. She knew she would have to tell Edmund, but she was thoroughly aware of what happened when either of her brothers overacted after a close call. "Cor, I know that he will be alright," she continued after a moment's thought. "And besides, I have Lucy's healing cordial. It will heal any injury." As she spoke, she gently brushed her temple and winced at the headache that still throbbed. "How long have I been unconscious?"

"I don't know," he admitted. A twinge of guilt formed inside him, despite the reassuring thought of the healing cordial. How selfish Susan must think him! He had been so upset over Corin that he had forgotten about her fall.

She seemed to sense these thoughts because she laid a hand on his arm and said, "I'm alright, really. It was just the sudden shock that caused me to faint."

He nodded. But despite berating himself, his thoughts quickly returned to his brother.

Susan understood. She knew exactly what he was experiencing. How many times in the past had she dealt with it herself? With reckless brothers like hers, it happened more often that she would like to admit. She glanced over at Cor again and this time he looked worse.

"What am I going to tell Aravis?" Cor asked, his voice filled with dread. He paled even more when he whispered, "What am I going to tell Father?"

Author's note: I decided to summarize the trial of Amon's uncle simply because it is not essential to the plot. What do you think of Amon? Is he trustworthy, or are Oreius's doubts true? And the question of the assassin still lingers…

On a much lighter note, I did a humorous alternate ending for Chapter 8. It's called 'Linguistics', for those of you who have not seen it yet. Happy early Palm Sunday!