Chapter 13: Ashes

The rest of the day was almost as bad as the beginning. Both Peter and Edmund had rowed about even worse things that had resulted in far worse fall-outs, but something had snapped within Edmund when he and his brother were going at each other only hours previous.

It was Peter's controlling nature that got to him most. Yes, before their final days back home their mother had had a long talk establishing Peter as leader of the pack, but there were times when Edmund felt like he was a bird whose wings were being held back from flight.

He'd rejected dinner, saying he wasn't feeling well. It was a white lie. He was feeling fine, just tired; he'd slept the whole day, as he spent the night previous tossing and turning in bed thinking of any possible way to clear Cedany's sentence, and to no avail. Susan was at his door at half past six, ordering him to eat and refusing to leave until he could get even a bite in. He had agreed, just to get her off his back, but now the tray of beef stew and bread lay cold and inedible.

And now he was pacing back and forth in his own chambers, ignoring the cold tray of dinner he promised Susan he'd eat, stopping at his window to see the twilight sky begin to twinkle with stars. He daren't open the window to smell the fresh salty waters of Cair; by this time they had made him nauseous. The fire behind him was crackling, the sound of wood burning throbbing in his head; he had to ride.

Philipp was in the stables, explained by Peter to refuse any propositions by him no doubt, but at this point he was willing to bribe his own horse. The wind outside was calling his name, tempting him, begging him for his presence. No, he thought. Peter wouldn't allow it.

But Peter wasn't there was he?

It didn't matter. His disappearance would shake the whole castle for reasons he still didn't know. Reasons he knew had to do with Aldred's abrupt leaving. Something, he knew, forced Peter to make such a rash and unjust conviction on Cedany. He'd searched his brother's room; nothing. He prodded Susan with looks that would have worked back in Finchley; still nothing. No doubt Peter would have a heart attack if he left Cair without notice; and so he continued to pace back and forth, ignoring the wind's call.

Edmund, he heard. Edmund, son of mine…Edmund…

He whipped around. Nothing.

o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o

"Peter."

"Yes?"

"You need to eat."

"Not hungry."

"I wasn't asking your permission." Susan slammed the cold iron tray on the desk before him, effectively waking him from his half sleepy, half awake state.

"Susan, this is all just lovely, buy didn't Tyr say you need to rest?" he asked, bringing his head down to rest it on the table once again. He was sitting on his desk and he didn't even know why; he'd finished all his work, there was nothing left to be sought to for the day and he could have easily spent the rest of his hours riding or reading or looking over Cedany's case or writing to Aldred; instead he sat, unmoving and half-awake by the crackling fire, Susan standing before him with her hands on her hips, waiting for him to take a sip of the delicious stew.

"No," she said flatly, eyes flaring. "You need food, Peter. You're working yourself silly half the time, and when you're not working you're not eating. It's worrying Lucy to death. If you're not going to eat for yourself, at least eat for us."

Peter glared up, and blew a sweaty blonde lock of hair from his face, like a child refusing to eat his vegetables. He tore the bread and dipped in the stew, savoring the luscious taste before swallowing and looking back up at Susan. "There. Happy?"

Susan didn't flinch. "I'm going to leave it here by the fire so that it's warm in case you get hungry again."

"That's great, Su, that's all I need. Honest. Can I be alone now?"

The tone in his voice angered her, angered her to the point where her usual cool, expressionless face sizzled with disbelief. "Well obviously since you're too busy to look out for this family, somebody's got to."

She swirled around, the hem of her dress dancing behind her as she stormed out of the room. Managing to get a choked 'sorry' out before she had slammed the door, Peter swore under his breath and rubbed his eyes. Edmund was angry, Susan was angry, the only innocence left was little Lucy, but there was no doubt in his mind that Edmund had vented to her about his treatment of Cedany's case, or Susan had complained about his growing hostility.

But who could blame them?

Even he lost faith in himself. And he remembered why.

How Edmund and Lucy's innocence would be shattered if – or when, as he knew it would eventually happened – they found out Narnia was on the brink of war of Dear Lune, that he had been accused of Corin's kidnapping, that he had no control over the situation and was lost, the most lost he had been in his entire life.

How the outcome of Cedany's trial would affect everybody. Edmund clearly had a connection with the girl, as did Susan, as did Lucy. Would the people look to him as a coward or a hero for setting her free? Was she to be trusted, or was she to be convicted?

Aslan, he thought. Please. Aslan…

Stay strong, he heard. A ringing in his head. Stay strong.

He jolted himself awake. Had he just imagined that, was it a trickery of the fatigue?

Could it have been - ?

A loud knocking on the door jolted him awake a second time. Susan, probably, checking to see if he had eaten. He dragged himself to the front of the room and opened the velvet doors. It was Oreius. The sight of the panicked centaur clutching parchment in his hand was enough to jolt him awake a third time. "Oreius?"

"M-my King," the centaur panted, bowing graciously. "My High King."

"Oreius, what is it?"

"My King…Sir Aldred Seethwell has been found. Dead."

I intended to update yesterday, but given the recent bombings in Boston, I thought we all needed a moment of silence. I hope all of my readers are safe.

xx Izzy