Thank you for all your reviews, I love reading them and they really do keep me going. I hope enjoy this latest installment, while I go try and tackle chapter four.

Chapter three: Present and Past

I didn't trust him. I didn't trust any of them. I had trusted people too many times, been disappointed, kicked around, and let down too often for me to put my trust in any of these new masters. I had a family to think about, and as the oldest, it was my duty to protect them. It was similar to how Cole liked to mother us from time to time. I could not let my guard down for a moment, no matter how tired I felt, or how comfortable I wanted to be in the environment. My siblings were more prone to trusting kind, poison-tipped words than I was. I was the one who needed to be on constant alert. It was a task that I took up without complaint.

A soft, cool breeze danced into the room from outside, moving the curtains a bit. I tensed, waiting for someone to emerge from the shadows, intent on hurting my family, or worse yet, taking them from me. It was several minutes before I relaxed again, settling myself more comfortably among the mess of pillows, quilts, extra blankets, and siblings. My eyes swept the room again out of habit, looking for anything out of place and cursing that I knew next to nothing about this bedroom. I didn't know anything more about Narnia, only the whispered rumors that floated across the sands. Barbarians, demons, a land of dark magic.

We had been brought here after dinner and told to rest. We were very tired, and even I had fallen asleep for a few hours. We had never eaten so much in one sitting, and the idea that the kings and queens would share such food with us was intriguing, to say the least.

Our first meal had certainly been full of surprises, especially the beginning.

Cole's eyes widened and she clutched my hand tighter as we followed Queen Lucy and Queen Susan onto a balcony. It overlooked the sea that stretched along the horizon. The setting sun glanced off the surface, shimmering like the gems that I had seen adorning Tarkaans and their kin. I had seen the sea on our journey here, but I had not had time to enjoy it, especially because Oliver was throwing up every time ship lurched. This view surpassed anything we had seen aboard the ship. I gave a small smile when Oliver gasped in delight. I was glad my brothers and sister could experience the beauty of such a scene.

"It's like Paradise," Cyrus murmured. I saw Oliver hold back a barely-contained snort of laughter. He hadn't believed there was anything after this life except a black hole of nothing, and I had hadn't been too sure at the time myself.

We were ushered to our seats around a large table on the balcony, and I wondered how in all of Calormen they had managed to fit it through the door. I heard King Peter and Queen Susan talking and frowned, straining to catch the muttered words. It was no good. Their conversation was brief, and I resisted the urge to kick something. They could have been talking about something I could have used against them. I took a deep breath and reminded myself that I was not a child anymore, despite what my age dictated, and I should act more like an adult.

More strange creatures brought out platters with meats and breads for the meal, and I barely refrained from jumping. I peered closer at the creatures with cloven feet and hairy legs, the initial shock of their appearance passed. They had a charm about them, despite how terrifying they seemed at first glance. Animals of all kinds followed, some of them chattering between themselves about trivial topics. And the food they were carrying! I hadn't seen that much food ever before, at least that I could remember. It was certainly the best my siblings and I had been in the presence of in some time. Even when working for some of the richest of Tarkaans, we had never been kitchen slaves. We had been house keepers or fit for manual labor.

A breeze wafted the scents towards me, and my mouth watered. At the same time, a haunting melody drifted up from below us, voices in a soul-stirring song. I saw Cyrus, Cole, and Oliver jump at the sound, and wondered if I had as well. Cyrus and Cole smiled, and my gaze drifted towards Oliver, who was watching Queen Lucy. She was humming along with the twisting tune with very little trouble, as though by ear. I wondered briefly how often she had listened to the song to know it so well, and a well of envy sprang up in my chest. How was it fair that she was able to listen to such a beautiful song day in and day out, whereas my siblings and I had been suffering in repression?

King Peter chuckled, making us all start again. I glanced over at him, my jealousy forgotten for the moment.

"Mermaids," he supplied, catching King Edmund's gaze and the two shared a grin. Oliver glared in their direction, but I ignored them for the time being, making a mental note to warn him to lay off. The last thing we needed was to make these four angry with us. I looked at the sea again, unable to get enough of the dancing water. The view was addicting, and I could see why my sister had been so taken with the vision.

The melody continued to drift around us, weaving its way into my mind. Snaking towards my memories and games of pretend.

I was good at pretending; I always had been. Even when Mother and Father were alive I was good at making up the most outrageous games. The things that people imagined in fantasies were my favorite realities. Especially the ones where I was a great lord, like the ones I saw riding by every once in a while. I wanted to be someone of power, or position, someone who would be able to change things. And I would have liked the money that such a place offered. Too often I had heard my parents talking in low voices, worried about food or clothing. I never understood what they meant until after they were gone. Until it became my job to keep my sister and brothers fed.

As time passed, I became even better at the games of pretending. Oliver had his strengths, mostly the immoral practices of stealing, pickpocketing, or rifling through saddle bags; I had mine. I stopped caring about ethics somewhere early on after we had been kicked onto the streets. And so my talents became a way of life. My overactive imagination could twist any fast-held belief or conviction. I took pride in being such an excellent liar.

The talent which started out as pure and unsoiled creativity soon became an underhanded practice. I was good at what I did, and my gifts grew. Lying had become a habit only a year later, one that I was not inclined to break. I could make the masters believe almost anything, even taking the blame for things that had obviously not been my fault. I kept my family safe, and that meant that the necessary game of 'making people believe things that weren't' was something I liked keeping around.

To be perfectly honest, I wasn't sure that I could stop anymore. There was something exhilarating about being able to create a story on the spot and deliver it with a straight, honest face that people naturally trusted. Even Oliver, who knew me better than anyone else, could be taken in by such lies. I utilized everything in these bending of the truths, my face, my voice, and my overall posture. I was an expert, a master.

I wasn't the only person who could mislead someone though. Plenty of men were adept at the dangerous game I loved to play, and many would use my age and lack of strength against me. No matter how good you became at the game you played, there was always someone with a different set of skills who could present a challenge.

That was why I sat among my siblings, propped up against a pillow or two, my head leaning against the ornate headboard. I didn't trust King Edmund or his brother and sisters any farther than I would honestly advise anyone to trust me. Everyone with half a wit could lie, I knew that from experience, and I wasn't taking any chances.

I was terribly tired, but I had slept for far too long earlier today, far longer than I had planned actually. I jumped at the slightest sound that came from the corridor, waiting for someone to try and take my brothers and sister away. I glanced around at the room, once again trying to stifle an overpowering sense awe at the majesty and grandeur. It was reserved compared to the pomp of the Tarkaans' grand homes.

"Are they asleep?"

A low voice rasped outside our door and I went still, listening intently. 'They' probably meant us, and I was very interested in anything these Narnians had to say. The more information I gathered about those who lived and worked here, the better my arsenal of tricks would be. No one ever suspected me until it was too late.

"Yes, poor little dears, they must be exhausted," a second voice, more feminine, answered the first.

"Why isn't there a guard outside their door? They're from Calormen after all. We can't be too careful."

"They're just children. What harm could they do?"

"You'd be surprised what children can do, especially Calormenes. We need to look out for our kings and queens after all."

"Oh, what an awful idea! They certainly don't look dangerous."

"Until we're certain, we need to take every precaution."

I scowled into the darkness. We weren't that dangerous, and if anyone was to be feared, it was the Narnians. They were the ones in control of the situation, a fact that I was keenly aware of. Their kings and queens were not the ones who needed to fear, after all they were rulers of a country.

"I. . . I suppose so. If you really believe that is necessary."

The voices drifted away, leaving my world in comforting silence once more. I relaxed slightly, allowing the peace to take me back in its grasp. Apparently the servants and guards cared about their monarchs, and wanted to protect them. Perhaps I could use that to my advantage.

I was good at hearing things I wasn't supposed to as well. Part of being a master in my art was mixing a little bit of the truth into the lies you told once in a while. There was no better way to dupe people then to know things you shouldn't. It was entertaining actually, to watch men sweat, to see their eyes widen when they realized how much I really knew. I could almost see their faces purpling with rage, their fists clench, yearning to land that first blow. That was where Oliver and I really put our talents to work, keeping our younger siblings out of harm's way. We had eventually learned that if we provoked any of our masters first, the pain wasn't as bad. They were too angry to inflict more damage then bruises, and we controlled the situation.

I was never really happy that Oliver was by my side in those situations, my accomplis and partner in crime. I had always been a big brother first and foremost, and Oliver sometimes was more of my twin or best friend then a younger brother. I never let myself forget, but it was so much easier to push away that fact when I let him play with danger so often. I pushed the pain away, focusing on the necessity of his presence both for our brother and sister and for my own sanity, instead of admitting how worried I actually was for his safety.

I looked over at my brother. The bed was extremely large, leaving all of us to fit comfortably on it with room to spare, yet we all huddled together. We felt safer when we were pressed together, not for heat or for space but for protection. Cyrus lay to my left with Cole, each clutching each other's hand. Oliver was to my other side, and he was using my arm as a pillow.

"Jarid?"

I glanced over at my sister, her dark hair splayed across the pillow, tangled from sleep. She looked so innocent, and in truth she and Cyrus probably were still pristine when compared to Oliver or me. I was proud to have been able to keep her safe. She laid a hand to my arm, clutching the fabric as tightly as she held her twin's hand. I saw Cyrus peering at me, trying to blink the sleep out of his eyes.

"What's wrong, Cole? Did you have a nightmare?" I worried, brushing a wayward strand of hair out of her eyes. Nightmares were normal for Oliver or me. I knew that Cole and Cyrus had not been plagued by them yet, but it was a fear I carried, knowing it was only a matter of time.

They were already terrified of anything that moved during the day, but at night they seemed more at peace. They had no problems sleeping in any new surroundings, and nothing could wake them once they had fallen into a slumber.

Cole shook her head.

"No, we just wanted too . . ." She trailed off, glancing away from me. Cyrus picked up the train of thought, as I knew he would. They worked the same way every time. It was one thing about our life that was predictable.

"We wanted to ask you something." Cyrus leaned closer, his gaze sharpening. Cole angled closer as well, her expression mirroring her twin's. "Are we safe here?"

Such a simple question, and I knew there was no answer. I didn't think we were, but I was loathe to say something like that to them. I remembered asking the same question of my parents once, when it had been late and someone had pounded on the door, demanding repayment for some loan. I had crept from bed, and once the man had left I had asked, foolishly naive, the same question. Are we safe?

The answer was a resounding no, and I didn't think I had the heart to say it. As much as I did not want to give them false hope, I couldn't crush that desire either. Which left me with precious little to work with. What was I going to tell them this time: the truth or the lie?

I felt a tremor run through my body, and shifted quickly back towards Oliver. His face was scrunched up against whatever nightmare now held him in its grips, and as I watched he curled himself into a ball. His shaking worsened until he was visibly trembling. I bit my lip to keep from crying. Oliver was always the only person that could make me cry when moments before I had been dry-eyed. I knew that he wanted to scream, and I also knew with even more certainty that he wouldn't. He never did.

He awoke with a start, throwing himself forward, tears coursing down his cheeks. His breathing was shallow and panicked, and I pulled him into my arms. He didn't try to resist me; it was second nature for both of us now. Cyrus and Cole inched closer, frightened by his tears.

"Go back to bed you two. He'll be fine, I promise."

Our younger siblings nodded as one before settling down again, hands still intertwined. I smiled bitterly, glad at least that they would fall asleep quickly. I returned my attention to the brother in my arms, maneuvering both of us back against the pillows. I kept one arm around him, aware that the front of my tunic was soaked in tears.

"Jar?" His voice cracked and I winced.

"What was it this time, Ollie?" He shook his head almost imperceptibly, and I cursed under my breath. If there was a god in this world, be it Aslan, or Tash, or some other senseless deity, they had a cruel sense of humor for sending something so terrible to a child. His nightmare had been bad indeed if he didn't want to talk about it.

"Jar, are you . . .you're all right, right?"

"Course I am Ollie. Someone has to look out for you, right? Now go back to sleep. We don't know what's coming in the morning and we need to be ready."

I relaxed again, my body letting go of the extra tension. We were quiet for a time and I let my siblings' soft breathing lull me towards the welcoming dark. I was too tired to fight sleep. I had no hope of staying awake all night if I really thought about it. What I had told my brother was true, we would need our strength for the morning and whatever these rulers threw at us.

I was almost asleep when Oliver spoke, his voice drifting through the darkness, timid and tired.

"Jar, do you promise you'll never leave me?"

My heart wrenched. So that had been the real nightmare. I pulled him closer, my chin coming to rest on the top of his head.

"Oliver, I will never leave you. I swear by Mother and Father's graves."

Oliver finally relaxed, trusting in my word, and we let sleep take us. Who knew what tomorrow would bring?