Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: A sorcerer challenged by Aslan. Love and friendship alike are tested by his presence. And the Gentle Queen faces her own challenge when the sorcerer's true colors are unveiled.

A/N: If you have not read the first eight stories in the A Light in the Darkness main story arc (Awakened, Shadowed, Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, and Veiled), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Ten: Plans

Markus stood, swinging his arms and stretching his neck, before he began to pace the cell again. The bed while not uncomfortable was a bit short to accommodate his long frame and sleeping with one's feet hanging off the edge was most uncomfortable. He needed to do something. Longed to do something, anything to take his mind off the fact that he had answered a call to die for his new Lord. There was no doubt in his mind that the penalty for his crimes, both those successfully carried out and those that had been at least partially foiled, was nothing short of death. He supposed he could take some comfort in the fact that he would die as the Great Lion's own and not as an enemy even if he must pay the mortal dues for his past.

The guards were well-disciplined, silent and professional and completely untrusting of him. His mind travelled again to wondering if he might be able to convince the guards to surrender his books to him. Or if Oberon had remembered to put out feed for Lilly. Markus shook his head, wondering at his concern for that little doe. Oberon, he knew would be able to take care of himself. So instead, he worried over the vulnerable creature who had placed inexplicable trust in him.

The sound of locks turning, keys rattling, and then a door swinging open was what made Markus turn around. A young man, dark of hair and eye but pale as though he never saw the sun (even though Markus knew this was not true), strode into the room then stopped before the outer cell. Even if he had not had the silver crown upon his head, even if Markus had never met him before, he would have known this was the Just King. Slim ink-stained fingers rested upon the hilt of the sword hung at his narrow waist with the easy confidence of a battle-hardened warrior and the silver tunic was cut to emphasize the strength of the deceptively slender frame. No, as he met those dark eyes, which were just as perceptive as they had been on the battlefield, he couldn't help but admit that this boy, this man, was not one to be underestimated even though Markus knew there were many who still made that mistake.

Markus bowed his head politely. "Your Majesty."

"The Princess Royal told us you were refreshingly polite. For a sorcerer." The younger King suddenly unbuckled his sword belt, handing the weapon to one of the guards before he nodded to the stern-faced palomino Centaur, who unlocked the outer cell door. "I should caution you, sir, that I am unarmed now and attempting to take me as hostage or do me harm will only cause your imminent death to become immediate."

A slight smile curved his lips as Markus bowed his head again. "I had thought the Just would not sentence me to my death before the interview and trial."

"You're right, I won't. However, with the evidence against you, it is unlikely that you will be spared. You are a sorcerer, after all."

"This I do not deny, King Edmund." Markus considered the young man in front of him. "What is it you wish to know?"

Something flickered in those cunning eyes. He wondered if the boy had heard the willingness to answer any question in his tone. Or perhaps he merely suspected his reasons for being so agreeable. Whatever it was, the younger king's voice remained calm and coolly controlled as he asked bluntly, "Why have you come here? Did you surrender to Dame Sepphora in order to plot another attack from inside Cair Paravel's walls?"

"No, I did not. Although there was a time when I sought the secrets that would have enabled such an attack."

Edmund stepped closer to the bars, although he still remained out of arm's reach, eyes narrowed as he searched his face. No doubt, he sought any signs of guile and deceit. Markus met his gaze steadily, unashamedly. There was nothing he could do to conceal his past, not when enough acts had been carried out before the eyes of his intended victims. "Then perhaps you will answer my other question now. Why have you come here?"

"Because I was commanded to do so."

The simple words hung in the air between them and Edmund's eyes narrowed further as his brow furrowed. The silence stretched until the Just asked, "Commanded by whom?"

Markus stepped closer to the bars and bent down slightly so he could look the king directly in the eyes. "By the Great Lion."

Dark eyes widening, Edmund stared at him in silence but then he nodded slowly. "I see. We will have to continue our conversation at a later time, sorcerer." At the unspoken signal, the Centaur guard opened the outer cell door. The Just walked out unhurriedly, accepting the proffered sword belt with a quiet word of thanks.

"My name is Markus."

Edmund paused in the middle of tightening his belt then nodded once. "We will speak again, Markus. Unfortunately, other duties are required of me." He turned to the guards, adding, "Make sure his meals arrive on time and no one is allowed to tamper with them. Dame Sepphora's orders against speaking of his presence to anyone outside of Ourself, Our Royal siblings, and the General still stand."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Markus watched as Edmund turned back once more, again piercing him with the eyes that were too old for their body and reminded him of golden eyes that saw the very depths of his soul. Then the Just King left.

He returned to pacing, wondering at the reason behind the brevity of the interview. But he should have patience. He was good at being patient and biding his time. The chance to speak honestly, to fully surrender his fate to the Four as commanded by Aslan would come.

He looked up as the door opened once again. But it was not the Just who entered. No, graceful as a doe, with slender white hands clutching her vibrant purple velvet skirts and a golden crown nestled atop her long, dark hair as she intruded on a world that now seemed absurdly harsh with her in its midst, it was most certainly not the Just King. Blue eyes widened and pink lips parted in faint surprise as the Gentle looked at him. Markus approached the bars of cell and grasped them as he held her gaze. But he did not speak the question most prominent in his mind. Why had Queen Susan the Gentle ventured into the dungeons?

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Edmund hurriedly slipped into the solarium where Peter and Thalia were hosting the Terebinthian ambassador. He was a bit surprised that Susan trusted Peter to be there alone but then again she had confessed at breakfast that she had grown weary of Lord Derrick's persistence in pursuing her even after Kat had unintentionally insulted him by laughing herself silly at his first attempted proposal. And Thalia's calming hand seemed to be keeping Peter in a good mood. Not to mention his brother was almost always unfailingly polite and the epitome of good manners even when caught by the diplomats he most wanted to avoid.

Still, he didn't miss the way his brother's slightly glazed smile became more genuine when Edmund sat down in the chair on his right. With a cautious glance at Thalia who was preoccupied with pouring tea for their guest, Peter leaned toward him and whispered, "What happened?"

Edmund whispered back, "He said he came at Aslan's behest."

"What?" The entire group paused to look at the High King. Edmund rolled his eyes while Peter just stood and bowed. "Ahem, I must ask your forgiveness for the disturbance, Ambassador Terril. But I fear I must take a moment to speak privately with my brother. I will return shortly. Edmund."

They hurried out of the solarium then stepped inside one of the unused sitting rooms. Peter turned to him. "Did he actually say Aslan's name?"

"No. But he told me that he came here at the command of the Great Lion."

Frowning, his brother turned and paced. "That doesn't mean anything. The Fell may not care for hearing the Name, some more than others, but we have seen that those who say Aslan's name do not always fall on His side. Do you think it's a trick?"

Edmund shrugged. "I honestly don't know yet. He's difficult to read."

"He's also a sorcerer. He's probably just waiting for us to let our guards down, don't you think?"

"It's possible. I think we need to approach him together and then go at him separately."

Peter nodded. "And we should invite Oreius to listen in each time."

"As though he wouldn't insist on it." Edmund smirked. "I only got away with going without him this time because he and Kat are sorting something out."

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Oreius watched his wife's face as he laid out the four notes in front of her. The last three of which were all written in a near perfect forgery of her handwriting. There was a flash of wrath in her eyes when she read those, all of which declared "her" hate for their marriage and "her" realization that it could never work. "Oh really? Oh, well, how devastating for this person that I did come back home." She scowled at him, holding one of the letters out. "You didn't believe this, did you?"

He cleared his throat. "The first deception was most convincing save the word choice and cowardice was all together too much. You would never attempt to end our marriage in such a way."

"You're absolutely right. If I were going to end our marriage, I wouldn't leave a paper trail. Just murder you in your sleep."

Oreius coughed, fighting back the urge to laugh at her matter of fact tone. "I am greatly comforted by this, Wife."

"Should be. If I kill you, it will be very straightforward and no one will be able to prove I did it." She winked at him before frowning at the notes again. "Completely unsuitable for each other. A mistake. Hmm, I wonder . . ." She rose from her chair, still frowning. "Actually, I think I do have letters that use similar phrases. Come with me."

"Where?"

"My study."

As soon as they reached her study, Alambiel went to her desk and unlocked the lower left-hand drawer then pulled out a file. Oreius raised an eyebrow at the sight. The only paperwork in the room that usually appeared organized was the limited duty roster but as he approached her desk, he could see Alambiel had kept a very neat file full of letters. His surprise was swiftly replaced by fury as he read one of the letters. "How long have you been receiving these?"

"Oh since before we actually started courting, I think. The Werewolf was the first one I know of who assumed we were mates but petty suitors who were upset by my turning them down have also made accusations of varying vulgarity of our being lovers. It's sort of funny. Half the letters call me a witch and the other half tends to stick to making disparaging comments on my romantic life . . . even before I had one. Anyway, I'm looking for a specific set of letters."

"Death threats?" The question came out terser than he would have liked but Oreius was not pleased to find out she had hidden all of this from him.

Alambiel grasped his hand, threading her fingers through his, as she looked up at him. "It's not that I didn't trust you or that I didn't want your protection but I knew you wouldn't react well to these letters. I never kept the most offensive ones. Those always went to the fire but I did keep records on who sent what and how often. And I didn't think it would be good to burden you with another worry when the majority of the letters come from crackpots or people too cowardly to ever go beyond the written word. And those I suspected might one day work up said courage are on a watch list." She picked up one of the letters. "This one. It's part of a set that I began receiving after our courtship was announced. I was never able to trace them to a single source."

"What does that mean?"

"The penmanship indicates a single author but he or she is rotating their distribution. One of these letters made it into a packet from Hadassah House." Alambiel frowned. "Now that one bothered me. He never issues a death threat or even a threat of physical harm but it's clear that he or she does not approve of mixed marriages. Here, listen: 'The Princess Royal is a fool. She should know better than to join herself to a beast. The wretch could join the Tisroc's harem and still be in a more acceptable union. She should turn away from this path before it is too late and she learns with all the pain deserved that this relationship is doomed and never should have flowered to begin with. Mark my words. The Princess Royal will regret joining her life to that beast's.' This letter writer in particular enjoys referring to me in the third person."

He clenched his fists. "The Tisroc." He paused, took a steadying breath, and then said more calmly, "Now the Tisroc you would murder gleefully if he ever had the misfortune of finding you in his harem."

Alambiel gave him a little smile but it did not reach her eyes this time. "There are places we can look for the letter writer. They might not be the same person as whoever sent you those notes since I only wrote once to a prearranged drop off as I rather, well, tersely forbade him from saying a number of things to me again and ever using Hadassah House as a means for communicating with me again. But, it's still a possible lead."

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A/N: Please Read and Review! Happy New Year! Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.