--Chapter 3: Suspect--

A few days after the "Adder's Blood Incident", I found myself lying under the same apple tree, dozing off only to awake with a jerk for fear of another apple attack or cry of murder. This day was not half as relaxing as the day before had been, for now Corin had disappeared. Though he was not bothering me at the moment, I knew that it was almost worse to know that Corin was lurking about somewhere, ready to spring upon me at any time. Just as I finally drifted off to sleep, my ears heard the faint sounds of a fight.

With a grunt, I rolled over and tried to ignore the sounds of battle. Then I heard the shout of a boy that sounded remarkably like the Prince of Archenland. Reluctantly, I pushed myself up, groaning irritably. As I got to my feet, I looked right and left, trying to decide from which direction the sounds came. It didn't take me long to realize that they were coming from the courtyard just opposite the Orchard. I sighed heavily, stretched, and then stepped briskly through the gate into the courtyard.

"Bother Corin," I muttered, mostly to myself. "There's no peace with him around. If Susan and Lucy don't agree to watch him for a while, then I don't know if I can stand life here. Probably have to go on a sea voyage or something to escape him. And all this business about murder doesn't help things either."

I was greeted by the sight of two boys wrestling on the ground. Another boy stood off to one side, cheering one or both of the others on. As I came nearer, I could see, to my dismay—but not surprise—that one of the fighting boys was, indeed, Prince Corin.

"Corin!" I shouted, trying in vain to suppress my anger. "What in Narnia do you think you're doing? Stop that at once!"

In a few quick paces, I reached the struggling boys and pulled them apart with some difficulty.

"Stand up. Both of you," I said, trying with some difficulty to control my boy whom Corin had been fighting looked about the prince's age, maybe a few years older. He had bright red hair and dull brown eyes, one of which was slowly swelling and turning purple around the edges. His nose was bleeding. Corin also had a black eye, and his lip was split open. Both boys were covered in mud, dirt, blood, and multiple bruises. I tried to conceal a grin as I glanced, first at the prince, and then at the other lad.

"Lion's mane, Prince Corin," I began, half-angrily and half trying not to laugh at their appearances, "what in Narnia do you think you are doing?"

"Fighting, highness," Corin said, holding his head high and not looking at me.

I sighed in exasperation and gave the prince an irritated glare.

"Yes, I could see that. What were you fighting about?"

Corin fidgeted for a moment, and then met my gaze with a fierce look in his blue eyes.

"I was telling them that I could beat any boy my age at boxing and Tal laughed and said that I couldn't beat a boy older than me and so I said I bet I could and he said I couldn't and I said I could and then he hit me and we started fighting," Corin exclaimed, all in the same breath.

I heaved another heavy sigh and shook my head, looking first at Corin, then at Tal.

"What am I going to do with you?" I asked, shaking my head at the boys and sighing. "Get on you two, while I speak with the prince."

"Yes, King Edmund," the older boy said quickly, grabbing the younger one and darting away, both of them sending rather awed glances over their shoulders.

I watched them go, and then put my hand on Corin's shoulder.

"Do you always get into so much trouble at home?" I asked after a moment.

Corin looked thoughtful, and then grinned up at me.

"I guess so. Father says that I am…impossible."

I shook my head wearily and smiled.

"I think I'll agree to that, though it's not quite the word I would use."

More like incorrigible. Ha. Incorrigible Corin. That fits rather nicely.

Corin gazed longingly at my sword. When I noticed the object upon which the prince's eyes were fixed, I drew my blade slowly from its sheath. Corin sighed in wonder as his eyes studied my glistening sword.

"I wish I could be in battles and wield a sword like that," he said in an awestruck voice.

"Battles are not at all like you might think," I replied, sheathing my sword carefully after he had had an eyeful, sitting down on the grass, and continuing. "They were quite different from what I expected."

"Why?" asked Corin, wrinkling his nose.

"Well…" I searched for the right answer. I didn't exactly want to tell him about all the violence. It's not a good thing to fill a child's mind with, all the blood and gore and fear and rage. Finally, I came up with a different answer, one that would keep him busy for a while--at least I hoped it would.

"For one thing, you have to know when and where to strike."

I glanced around for an object with which I could demonstrate. After a moment, my eyes found a shield leaning up against the courtyard wall on a rack where a soldier had been polishing it. Standing and striding over to it, I hefted it easily. It was a dwarf-made buckler; smaller than the shields made for men. Its round shape barely covered my arm and left my elbow exposed. Then as I walked back to Corin, I found a solid stick that was about the length of a short sword.

"Here," I said, handing the stick to Corin. "Now hit my shield with your sword, and we'll see if you're strong enough for battle."

Corin glanced uncertainly at the stick, but when he looked back at me, he had a mischievous gleam in his eyes. I smiled encouragingly and nodded my head.

"When you're ready, Prince Corin."

Corin grasped his 'sword' and tested its weight. Then, he pulled it back over his head and swung at my left arm where the buckler was fastened.

If the situation had been between me and any normal boy, everything would have gone exactly as I had intended. The stick would have bounced off my buckler, and I would have charged him while he wasn't expecting it and tackled him. But of course, this wasn't a normal boy. This was Prince Corin.

Of course, Corin didn't mean to hit my elbow. But Corin never means to do anything. It just happens somehow; like trouble is magnetically drawn to him. And so, with trouble magnetically drawn to him, Corin just happened to hit my elbow. The only part of my arm that the shield did not protect. And to make matters worse, he hit my funny bone.

"Ouch!" I yelped, clutching my stinging elbow and tearing off the shield.

Corin dropped his stick in surprise and took several steps back. I gritted my teeth and felt my elbow and up along my arm. From the bend of my elbow to the tips of my fingers, my entire arm was numb, but little spasms of pain made me wince when I tried to move it. Trying not to moan in pain, I rubbed my elbow gently.

"What's wrong?" Corin asked, worried that he had gotten into trouble yet again. "I didn't break your arm, did I?"

"No…" I said through gritted teeth, struggling to speak without a moan, "just hit my…funny bone…"

"Funny bone?" Corin asked, a grin crossing his face. "Is that a joke?"

"No!" I hissed. "It's not a joke, and it's not even a bone. Just an easily compressible nerve that just happened to be in the way of your stick! Upon solid impact, one's arm can become numb for up to half an hour."

Corin's eyes grew large, and his grin widened as he watched me, King Edmund the Just, lean back against a tree, clutching my injured arm. The arm that he had just inadvertently injured.

"Edmund!"

I let out a groan as I heard the voice of the last person I wanted to see at the moment.

"Not now, Pete," I muttered under my breath. "This really isn't a good time."

Corin's grin grew even bigger when he saw who was entering the courtyard.

"King Edmund," the prince whispered. "It's the High King. He's got his sword. Do you think he wants to fight you in a duel?"

I aimed a glare at Corin, who was apparently enjoying the situation immensely.

"If you say another word, your highness," I hissed viciously, "than I see that you are kept inside with my sisters—all day."

Corin's face took on an uneasy expression at the threat, and he nodded, obediently pressing his lips tightly closed.

"Greetings, brother!" said Peter as he reached Corin and me. "Tis a lovely day, is it not?"

With him was a young lady, a young man, and an older man with dark skin and black hair that was lightly speckled with grey. The girl, most likely a princess or some noble lady, I thought as I studied the three, wore a long, light blue dress that matched her light blue eyes. Her long golden hair was pulled back in a complicated hairstyle; one I thought looked rather ridiculous. I much preferred Lucy's version of the 'Narnian hairstyle', hair hanging down over her shoulders with flowers woven through her locks.

The young man had carefully cropped auburn hair that fell so that it just brushed his eyebrows. His clothes were plainer than the girl's, I noticed as I casually glanced over the green tunic and brown trousers, but was obviously of the same expensive fabric. The girl looked as if she was about Susan's age, but her brother—at least, I assumed it was her brother—looked a couple years younger, certainly no older than I.

The other man, a tall, serious-looking chap, looked almost old enough to be their father, though I was almost certain that he was not for some reason that I could not put my finger on at once.

With an effort, I smiled and stood up straight, dropping my arm to my side and trying not to wince as painful twinges ran up and down it.

"Yes, Pete?" I said, giving my older brother a reproachful glance.

Peter frowned, not understanding the look, and then looked back at the lady and young man.

"Edmund, these are the children of King Gavin of Galma. They are visiting the court of Cair Paravel to taste of Narnia, and her people. Princess Iliea, Prince Eric, allow me to make known to you my brother, King Edmund."

I smiled and bowed courteously, gritting my teeth as another jolt of pain ran through my arm.

"A pleasure, your highnesses."

The princess curtseyed gracefully, and her brother bowed in return.

"The pleasure is ours, King Edmund," replied Prince Eric—rather boredly, I thought.

"In-deed," agreed the princess ardently, sending a smitten glance at the High King. "Eric and I could hardly wait when Father announced that we would be traveling to Narnia. Tis such a beautiful land you rule, King Peter."

Even though my arm still hurt like the dickens, I barely repressed a snort. Peter nodded in acknowledgement to her comment with something akin to a smile, but what looked to me like a grimace, and then gestured toward the other man.

"And this is the Lord Chancellor of Galma, Lord Irwin."

The dark man bowed low and then raised his eyes to meet mine.

"Your Majesty," he said in a low, slightly accented voice. "King Gavin is most highly thankful for your kindness in allowing us to remain at Cair Paravel in your court."

I bowed back, my mind not on the introduction, but on this man before me. One thing about this Lord Irwin was painfully apparent to me that Peter seemed to have missed.

He was Calormene. And the poison meant to kill Peter had been from Calormen.

To be continued…