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 Thirteen: Doubt, Comfort

2 Twirleaf 1009

Susan hesitated then quickly jot down the invitation for both Lord Terrick and Lord Derrick to join her and the Princess Royal at tea that afternoon. Kat would forgive her for this . . . she hoped. She checked the list she had compiled before bed last night for her most pressing duties. Firstday always seemed the busiest as Narnians and foreign diplomats and traders alike flocked to garner the Four's attention after a day of rest. Fortunately, today was one where it appeared that most of her duties would be fairly straightforward. Setting aside the invitation for Ambassador Terril's nephews, Susan hurried to pen an innocuous note asking Kat to join her for tea. She scanned the note critically for anything that might hint at Terrick's presence then gave the letter to the sweet Collie waiting patiently. "Here, Luana, please see that this invitation goes to the Princess Royal and wait for her reply."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

The Collie left her study at the stately run that made her full blonde and white coat flare. Susan smiled at the sight before she turned back to the more immediate difficulty of sorting out the arrangement of the guest quarters for Tarkaan Babak and his entourage of three wives, whom he did not want in the same vicinity of any other male, since the original quarters she had intended to put them in was only a corridor away from the Terebinthian delegation. And she did not trust the Ambassador's nephews and their friends to respect the Tarkaan's wishes. She would have to move the Tarkaan and his entourage to a different floor entirely but not to the west, his letter listing the arrangements Cair Paravel was expected to provide made it clear he did not want to look at Edmund's Western Woods. And certainly not in the north wing. Susan looked again at the flowery and politely worded demands. Where could she put them?

"Oh, I'll put them in the south wing on the third level right below Edmund's spy offices." She jotted the notes down, more than a little pleased with how she had resolved the dilemma. And this way they should be able to head off any plots the Tarkaan might be entertaining toward Narnia.

"And who am I spying on, Sister?"

Susan didn't look up from her notes as she answered, "Tarkaan Babak and his entourage. We'll have to be careful that Oreius only stations female guards who are visible to the Tarkaan. His demands are most strenuous and-"

"His uncle is the Tisroc (may he have cold coffee and rotten apple pie forever)." Edmund grinned cheekily at her even when she gave him a warning look. He ran a hand through his dark hair, making it stick out wildly. Susan pursed her lips as she eyed his hair. He really did need a haircut. But she would merely whisper the observation to his valet then allow the Faun to tackle the task. Edmund cleared his throat and Susan laid her quill down, giving him her full attention. She didn't say anything, merely waited for her younger brother to speak his mind. "Su, why did you give orders for the sorcerer to have quill and ink?"

"Oh. Well, Markus-"

"Markus?" Edmund raised both eyebrows as he rubbed his jaw, his gaze holding hers, weighing her words, her reactions.

Susan raised her chin slightly. "I- I felt . . . sorry for him. The books were obviously a comfort, a learning experience for him and I perceived no danger in allowing him to have them. As the quill and ink, he's only allowed to have those for an hour each day with his evening meal."

Her brother turned away. Susan folded her hands in her lap and tried not to squeeze them together too tightly. Edmund's silences were at times more telling than his words and she felt a terrible dread that she had made a mistake. The memory of Markus' sincere if somewhat surprised thankfulness warred with the equally clear memory of the feeling she had had while looking into his eyes that he was not all he appeared. Lists and diplomats, even ones as tetchy as Tarkaan Babak, those she knew how to deal with and she enjoyed resolving most of the accompanying dilemmas but prisoners . . . prisoners who were sorcerers were far outside her area of expertise. Susan glanced up as Edmund turned back to her. She raised a hand in mute appeal as she asked, "Surely there has been no harm taken, Ed. Not of reading and writing."

He shook his head. "Not yet at least." Susan flinched and Edmund's stance softened. "Hey, don't worry about it. You've enough on your shoulders as it is, Su." He slung an arm around her shoulders and gave her a brief comforting squeeze before he stepped back again. "Look, I understand you were being kind to him, being the perfect hostess as usual, but you need to be careful around him, Susan. We still don't know if Markus is trustworthy."

Susan nodded. "I know, I understand. I don't even really know why I stayed down there when I learned you were already gone. It seemed I could not help but act more like Lucy than myself this time."

"That's not such a bad thing, you know. Heart over logic. Some of the time, anyway. Otherwise, how in the worlds would we keep Peter and Lucy's feet only a little bit above the ground without the aid of logic?"

A slight smile escaped, playing across her lips as she ducked her head slightly and turned back to her lists. "Well, this is true. However, I assure you that I intend that visit to the dungeons to be my last. There are some areas, Brother, to which you are more suited than I and I am happy to grant them to your hands."

As she picked her quill once again, Susan watched Edmund grin. "Don't worry, Su. Peter and I will see to the sorcerer. You just make Tarkaan Babak is comfortable in his nest beneath my spies." He had almost reached the door when he glanced back. "Oh, Susan, did you-"

"No pie, Edmund."

"Aww, Su, but-"

"No. No pies were made today unless you wish to steal the one made for Caia earlier and I've been assured that the wisest course would be to avoid any and all pies made for Centauresses who are expecting. I should have thought you along with Peter and Tarrin learned that last year." She glanced up from her notes and smiled slightly at the mixture of dejection and revulsion currently gracing her brother's face. "That is why I thought chocolate cake would be the best accompaniment to dinner tonight."

"Cake!"

"Don't you dare take any slices to "check" the consistency or taste or any other nonsensical excuse, Edmund Alexander Pevensie," Susan warned.

Placing a hand over his heart, Edmund bowed at the waist. "I wouldn't dream of it, Sister dearest."

Susan shook her head as he hurried out of the room. She could only hope that someone would remind him of whatever duties he had yet to take care of before he reached the kitchens. Otherwise, she would have to serve the second cake.

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It had begun again. He circled around her, insinuating when he was not interrogating, and always the same questions. Narnia's weaknesses, Cair Paravel's weaknesses, how to access the Four's private wing, how to sneak by the safeguards that protected her kids. She said nothing. She refused to give this vile excuse of a man any advantage that would endanger her family. The cruel slash of a mouth turned up slightly in a mocking façade of amusement. His fingers twisted in her hair and she winced as he yanked her head back. "Tell me where they are and I won't have to hurt you again, Princess."

Lies. He would hurt her, he would eventually kill her, and he would feel neither regret nor loss in his black heart.

She gasped, trying and failing to suppress a sob as he shoved her against the stone wall, grinding her wounded back against the unforgiving surface. "No."

"Come now, Princess." Fingers tangled in her hair, toying with the locks, stroking her hair in a cruel mockery of comfort. She twisted away even as her fear revealed its weakness as she sobbed. The voice changed, warping into another voice, the original voice that haunted her. The Monster's chuckle filled the darkness even though she could not see him. Then he whispered, "Poor little princess, so alone. So afraid. But that's good. You should be afraid. You're one of the unwanted and no one cares that you are here."

Lies. He was lying. He always lied. A shudder ran through her . . . unless he spoke of pain and suffering. Fingers again pet her hair. She shuddered but held still. This time she would fight back but she mustn't let him know, mustn't give away that he hadn't broken her yet. Be he Mordad or Monster, he had not broken her spirit yet. Slipping her hand up by her head, she shivered again as another large hand rested on her shoulder. The voice echoed out of the darkness. "Shh. Be still, I'm not going to hurt you."

Lies. Her fingers touched the smooth hilt of the knife. She grasped it just as she heard him gasp, "Alambiel, no, wait."

An iron grip clamped around her wrist in spite of her struggle to bring the knife up. She kicked at him but she might as well have been a fly for all he reacted. Panic made it difficult to think as she came to the realization that her wounds had drained her further than she wanted to admit. She kicked again then twisted away, attempting to wrench her arm free of his grasp. The knife would even the odds. She gasped and mentally cursed herself for allowing yet another sob to break free.

Then he pulled the knife from her grasp. Before she could think of what more she could do to escape, strong arms wrapped around her, lifting her up. She squirmed but it did not deter him. "Alambiel." The voice was roughened but the tone was gentle as an almost familiar warmth surrounded her and an equally gentle touch pet her hair. "Alambiel, wake up. Chéadsearc, you are safe. Wake up, Sweetheart, Chéadsearc."

The words pulled at her . . .

She took a shuddering breath and then opened her eyes . . .

Alambiel gasped then struggled instinctively as her mind registered the fact that she was being held tightly. The restraints did not ease but recognition seeped past lingering fear and remembered pain and she allowed herself to go limp, her head resting against the Kentauri's chest. She didn't say anything as she continued to struggle to regulate her breathing to something less than tearful gasping. But, she didn't have to as Oreius continued to hold her close, lightly petting her hair as he murmured, "Shh, Chéadsearc, do not fear. I have you now. He cannot hurt you anymore. I promise, Alambiel, I promise he will never harm you again. You are safe. I promise."

She shuddered once then closed her eyes again, listening to the steady beating of his heart, using it and his measured breathing to steady herself and her own breaths. How long he held her, murmuring comforts and not pressing for answers, she didn't know. But when she had at last calmed and shaken off the last tendrils of nightmarish memory, Alambiel pushed against his chest lightly so she could straighten from her somewhat huddled position. She couldn't quite bring herself to look him in the eye, though, as she asked in a hoarse whisper, "The knife?"

Oreius cleared his throat. "Let us thank Aslan that I realized you had slipped a dagger beneath your pillow, Wife, before you buried it between my ribs."

Alambiel risked a glance up at him and saw only concern and love in his dark eyes. She managed a tremulous smile. "That would be a rather undignified way to end our marriage. It would be too obvious that I did it."

The Kentauri chuckled then shifted, drawing her attention to the way he was on top of the covers. She looked up again, unsure of whether it was the nightmare or the observation that made tears sting the corners of her eyes. Either option was ridiculously emotional. She pulled away a little, shaking her head, as she sighed, "I pulled you away from paperwork."

"That is not what is important right now. I should not have stayed at my work so late." Callused fingers pushed against the underside of her chin until she met Oreius' gaze. His eyes searched hers before he cleared his throat and asked softly, "Did you think I was Mordad?"

She flinched before she could bury the reaction beneath a smile or laugh or some offhanded joke and Oreius pulled her close again. Alambiel took a steadying breath then murmured, "Mordad, the Monster, both. I can't . . . I don't want to talk about it. It was just a nightmare, no matter how much my memories influenced it. It's not real anymore."

The kiss to her temple was fleeting and barely registered. But then Oreius shifted her over and got off the bed long enough to pull the covers back. Alambiel waited as the Kentauri settled himself next to her and adjusted the coverlet so it now covered them both. She knew he was obsessing over Markus and whatever plot he might be brewing, which meant the simple fact that he had chosen to stay with her instead of poring over his unfinished paperwork was a small miracle in and of itself. "Oreius. Thank you."

"For what, sweet?"

She glanced over her shoulder at him. "For staying."

"You need me." The words seemed so simple that had another said them to her, she would have been inclined to believe them trite. But this was Oreius and she knew that such a statement only reflected his matter of fact way of seeing things.

Allowing him to draw her down, Alambiel rested her head on his shoulder and took comfort in his familiarity. She sighed.

"What is wrong?"

"Nothing. You need to learn how to differentiate between the various kinds of sighs."

He tightened his hold around her. "I have and I know that that particular sigh means you are troubled. By something more than a nightmare, perhaps?"

"Your shoulder isn't the softest pillow."

"Alambiel."

"It's an observation." She studied the shadows dancing across the ceiling overhead and then grinned as she added in the same blasé tone, "Don't worry, I like muscles."

Oreius didn't respond at first but then he moved to the side so her head no longer rested on his shoulder. As he leaned over her, he arched an eyebrow. "That I believe. Though you have not complained of using me as your pillow in the past." He pressed a tender kiss to her lips then smoothed a strand of hair back from her face. "Go to sleep, my love. I will not leave."

She wasn't certain at what point she fell asleep, exhausted from the nightmare, but she did remember that no nightmare stalked her before she woke again. And she remembered Oreius holding her close while he hummed to her. If only she could remember why the tune seemed so familiar.

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A/N: Please Read and Review! Back to Markus in the next chapter. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.