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 Eighteen: Searching

How? How could the marks be the same as Alambiel's? But they were. It was undeniable. Tanith pointed to a smaller stab wound just to the inside of the wounds running down from her right shoulder. "This is what killed her. There are small burn marks around the wound, which means there was most likely a Hag involved."

Oreius forced himself to look away from the all too familiar wounds and focused on the killing wound. "How long ago did this happen?"

"A little over five hours ago. She was killed first and then the wounds to her back were created." Tanith gently placed the Nymph on her back once more and draped the sheet over her. She glanced up at him, a touch of shyness in her warm brown eyes now, as she asked hesitatingly, "General, the wounds are like those borne by the Princess Royal, are they not? But I thought she gained those away from Narnia. W-why would anyone repeat them to this Nymph?"

He scowled down at the shrouded form. "I do not know." He moved to leave but then stopped and looked back at the Centauress. "No one learns of those wounds. Not even her family."

"Yes, General."

Oreius studied her for a moment. No, Tanith would not go against orders. He nodded curtly then left. He had a meeting with Ardon, Cletus, and Peridan. Sir Rupert Grefftus Fox was following Alambiel for him, making sure that she did not follow an impulse to go hunting. Those wounds worried him, though. Why had they been carved into the Nymph's back? Who had put them there and exactly what message were they attempting to send? Was it one of Mordad's men seeking revenge? Or a different enemy? The sorcerer's allies perhaps. He didn't know.

By the time Oreius entered the meeting room, he knew what else would have to be done. And Alambiel would not like it. But it was for the best.

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The rooms assigned to Merry were simple and almost bare of any personal furnishings. Susan opened the wardrobe to see only three dresses. Her jaw dropped in surprise before she recovered. She always took care that her ladies-in-waiting and their families were well provided for if they wanted for anything. Kat's voice was too steady as she mused, "Did Merry recently move into these rooms?"

"No." She shook her head as she scanned the bedchamber. The bedding was simple, the light blue coverlet undisturbed by even a personal quilt or afghan. Other than the dresses in the wardrobe and a single hairbrush on the dressing table, the chamber could have been one of the waiting guestrooms. A person living in these chambers for a year should have left an imprint on them. Susan touched the coverlet, smoothing it down even though it was already perfectly in place. "Where are the signs? Where are her books and letters? Why didn't she feel at home?"

"All good questions, My Queen."

She turned to see Sir Rupert sitting on the bench in front of the dressing table. The Fox bowed then smiled as he curled his bushy tail around his paws. "Since her highness has sequestered herself beneath the small desk in the sitting room, I thought I might offer you my assistance, Queen Susan." Sir Rupert's sharp-eyed gaze scanned the room knowingly. "Your questions are most pertinent. Why did the late Lady Merry not treat this place as her den? Which leads us to another question that is steadily gaining import. Where did Lady Merry make her true den?"

Susan looked around the empty room. "I wish I knew."

"I think, My Queen, that Lady Merry took great pains to conceal her secrets," he paused until Susan turned to him then tilted his head, "and she was very careful not to allow anyone to see even a hint of trouble. Not even you, My Queen."

"No. Though you are kind to attempt to ease my mind in this matter, Sir Rupert." She sighed and shook her head once more. "I neglected my own duties to my ladies-in-waiting. I should have taken the time to truly make the effort to draw Merry out of her quiet. Perhaps if I had, this venture would not be necessary."

"Susan, are you sure Merry wasn't involved with anyone?"

She frowned then gathered her skirts as she and Sir Rupert hurried into the sitting room. Kat had abandoned all pretense of dignity and was lying on her back underneath the small desk. "Kat? What are you doing down there?"

"Composing a new symphony called 'Under the Table.'" Kat sat up with a packet of letters in her hand. "Sometimes I wish I wasn't the only one who knew how funny my comments are and are you positive Merry had no suitor?"

"Yes." She stepped back as Kat ducked out from beneath the desk. "Where did you find those?"

"In a secret drawer."

She couldn't think of anything to say to that and her bemusement must have shown because Kat looked up and suddenly laughed. "We live in a castle. I'm more surprised when the furnishings don't come with secret panels. As for these," she turned the packet over, the ends of the lace ribbon fluttering as she did so, and frowned. "Definitely a man's handwriting."

Susan waited as Kat untied the lace ribbon and took the topmost letter before she took the rest. She stared down at the large, boldly curling letters spelling out Merry's name across the front of the envelope. The slight twinge of guilt over reading Merry's private missives was countered by the knowledge that they had to pry in order to find answers and . . . And Merry was dead. The invasion of her privacy would no longer be felt by her.

Still, it was several moments before she could bring herself to even choose one of the remaining letters to open. She pulled out the third letter down from the top of the stack. The same bold strokes greeted her on the envelope. She slid her thumb under the broken seal and started to pull out the letter when Kat stopped her. Susan looked up in surprise but her protest died on her lips as she took in Kat's fiery blush. She allowed the older woman to tug the letter out of her hands. "What is it?"

"Well, let me put it this way, Merry was definitely involved with someone." Kat held out her hand for the rest of the packet, arching an eyebrow as she did so. "Susan, I'm married so if I'm blushing from what I just read, there is not an ice cream cone's chance in the Calormene Desert that I'm going to let you read any of these letters."

Susan felt her own cheeks warm as she hastily handed over the packet. "What should we do now?"

Kat tied the ribbon back into its proper place. "We're going to have to talk to Deianeira and see what the rumor mill knows about Merry." She looked down at the letters and grimaced. "And I'm going to have to open one of these again to see if whoever wrote it signed their name. I hope he was that stupid because that would make my job so much easier and it would be over faster."

She chose not question her on that remark but she also knew she did not envy Kat her task. "Should we visit Deianeira today?"

Kat shook her head. "No. It can hold until tomorrow. By then I should have a better idea of what questions we need to ask about Merry." She turned the letters over and added softly, "I have a very bad feeling about this whole thing. The place of death might not have been chosen for the reason I had hoped."

"Chosen?"

Kat looked up. Her mouth firmed as she pressed her lips together in a thin line. "Keep that information close, Susan. It's just a theory right now. There's still a possibility that Merry's death was a tragic accident."

Susan said nothing as they walked back to her quarters before parting ways (after Sir Rupert ducked inside to inspect the rooms) but in her heart she knew that Kat no longer believed the death of her lady-in-waiting was an accident. However, she still wondered what, or possibly who, had caused Merry to venture from the Cair and to her doom. She picked up the little book Markus had given her but didn't open it. Instead, she clutched it against her chest as she sank onto the floor beside the bed. Bowing her head, Susan sobbed without care for queenly dignity or the fact that she would have to appear collected when the Tarkaan Babak attended the banquet in just four hours. She had let Merry slip through the cracks instead of making sure that she felt at home in Cair Paravel. She had failed Merry because of her preoccupation with everything else and she had not stopped long enough to help a young woman she knew had been through a trying time already. What good was being the best hostess for the sake of diplomacy if she neglected her own people?

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The beach seemed peaceful. The gentle white swells of the silver sea caressed the golden shore before retreating again. The image was marred, however, by the large pool of blood sinking into the sand where it had been churned up by a fight. The body of the Werewolf had been removed but other evidence of the fight remained. Large drops of darkened blood led away from the initial area of attack and, where the beach sloped up to meet the hills and sand changed to grass, a dagger with its silver blade tarnished almost to the hilt with a mix of blood and fur lay half-hidden in the grass.

Edmund said nothing as he watched Oreius pick up the dagger. The Centaur's stern expression somehow became even sterner as he cleaned off the blade then added it to his sword harness. Peter looked back at them from where he was crouched on the side of the bluff, listening to Babur as the large Tiger explained something about the blood trail. The sight of the Tiger made Edmund look around, searching for his Wolves and hoping that they hadn't blundered their way into more trouble than they could get themselves out of on their own. His grip on Shafhelm tightened slightly until he spied the Wolves running around the bluff with their noses to the ground. Every once in a while one of them would look up and give a big doggy grin as he looked down on them and wagged his tail until the other Wolf shoved him.

Edmund sighed. Remus had immediately reverted to acting as though this was a grand game once the imminent danger was removed. He knew his Wolves meant well but sometimes they still had a ways to go before they conducted themselves with appropriate gravitas during such investigations, especially Remus. Edmund sighed again then trudged up the incline to where Peter had now been joined by Oreius. His brother's mouth was pressed into a grim line as he stood up. "Where did your Wolves find the Nymph, Ed?"

"Not even close to here."

Peter nodded then turned to his Tigers. "Babur, Bast, keep tracking the Werewolf who was scared off. We'll follow the wounded Werewolf's trail since that's what the Greybacks followed." He glanced over his shoulder at Edmund in silent query and he gave a little nod of confirmation.

It seemed to satisfy his brother since he started off along the blood trail. Edmund glanced at Oreius but the Centaur didn't move to follow Peter immediately. Instead, he turned around, once again surveying the beach as a fierce scowl crept into being. Edmund followed his gaze but nothing appeared to have changed since they had worked their way up from the site of attack. Returning his attention to the Centaur, Edmund quietly asked, "What is it?"

"They should have been seen."

Brow furrowing, Edmund opened his mouth to press for a clearer explanation but then he staggered, almost tumbling down the slope, as a furry body crashed into his legs. Remus yipped and gazed up at him, his pink tongue lolling out the side of his mouth as he wagged his tail so hard his entire body was wriggling. "King Edmund! King Peter says to hurry up! And if you keep lollygagging, I get to nip your heels!" He went completely still for a moment, one ear flattening, before he asked, "Does that mean that you want me to nip your heels when you wander in your sleep in the morns, King Edmund?"

Edmund scowled. "It most certainly does not! There will be no nipping of anyone's heels."

"Oh." The Wolf pup seemed to consider this for several long moments, providing blessed silence, as he trotted alongside Edmund. He and his brother both had been careful to keep out of Oreius' way. Then Remus looked up at him. "Is it like what you said about not trying to nip a human's tail? And why isn't a lady's dress her tail? It swishes like a tail and it follows behind her like a tail."

Before he could even begin to process how to answer, the blasted pup perked his ears up and then bounded over to the General, shouting, "General Oreius! General Oreius! Is your mate's tail under her dress? Is it under her fur? Is that why we're not supposed to look under her fur?"

The flash of irritation in the Centaur's dark eyes was unmistakable as he snapped, "Master Greyback, you are to focus on showing us where this trail leads. We do not have time for foolish questions."

Remus ducked away, racing back to place Edmund between him and the irritated general, but then he peeked around Edmund. "Does that mean yes? How come your mate doesn't want to show her tail? Letting it out would help everyone know how she feels."

Edmund cringed in anticipation of the explosion of wrath from the Centaur but Oreius merely glared daggers at the Wolf pup, who yelped and attempted to hide behind his legs again. The general pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath then let it out slowly. His tone bore only the hint of strain, though, as he stated, "Remus Greyback, do not ask about my wife or any parts she may or may not have. I can assure you that she does not hide a tail beneath her dress. Focus on your assigned task."

The Wolf pup's curiosity seemed to be cowed as he contented himself with running ahead and around them as they followed the blood trail. The splotches of dried blood were growing in number as they entered the woods. Peter was standing at the top of an all too familiar hill with Romulus running in circles around him once they emerged into the clearing. Edmund scowled. What was it about this hill that it attracted such tragedy in the past year?

His brother let out a shout and Edmund didn't hesitate for even a moment before racing up the hill. His hand tightened reflexively on Shafhelm's hilt, prepared to draw it in defense of his brother and King in a heartbeat, but Peter was not being attacked. Instead, Edmund came to a halt next to where his brother was kneeling on the ground. Or rather next to where the Greyback twins were sticking their big noses between him and Peter and whatever Peter was attempting to examine.

Edmund scowled. "Will you two move? He can't see through your heads." His Wolves immediately backed away as they looked up at him with heartbroken yellow eyes. Unable to maintain his irritation, especially since he knew they were just too excited and only wanting to help, Edmund quickly patted them both on the head between their ears as he stepped past them. "What'd you find, Pete?"

"I'm not sure. Here."

His brother rose to his feet and then handed him a fragment of an envelope. It had been torn and was stained with dirt and blood but there was still some script that was legible. Edmund squinted at flourish-endowed and smudged letters. "M . . . a, I think. This last one is a bit more difficult to make out. N? No, no, that's not right. R. Mar?"

"Markus."

Edmund glanced over his shoulder at the grim-faced Centaur. "Maybe. Although it wouldn't make much sense if that Nymph, Merry, had the letter out here, would it?"

"The identity of the prisoner has not been spread through Cair Paravel. Unless the Gentle allowed something to slip in the presence of her ladies, I do not believe that Merry would have been aware that the sorcerer, if he is the one the missive was intended for, was in custody."

Kat's words from before concerning Markus and the stretch to connect the evidence made Edmund hesitate. "It's too vague. We'd need to question Merry and she's not going to be available for questioning now. Maybe something can be found in her rooms, though."

Peter nodded. "I still don't know if we can trust what little Markus has been willing to tell us but we can't tie the two together based solely on that remnant of an envelope." Oreius bowed slightly, silently ceding the argument even though Edmund knew that the Centaur was unconvinced that the sorcerer, the former sorcerer, was not involved in the Fell breach. Peter looked around again then turned back to them. "I think we should meet Bast and Babur now after making a final pass of this hill. Ed?"

"Sounds reasonable."

"General Oreius!"

Both kings jumped as Remus bounded out of the bushes and straight up to Oreius. The Wolf pup wagged his tail. Edmund frowned, wondering what the pup wanted now.

The general surveyed Remus skeptically. "Do you have a report, Master Greyback?"

"No sir."

"Then what is it?"

"Does your mate have haunches?"

Edmund's jaw dropped and Peter snorted before he hastily slapped his hand over his mouth then, shoulders shaking, hurried down the other side of the hill. Before anyone could stop him, Remus continued, "How come your mate doesn't show her haunches? Wouldn't her haunches come with a tail? How come her fur doesn't have an opening to show her haunches? The Kings have haunches but their fur comes with the opening on the wrong side, which is why I know they don't have tails. It's very strange because everyone else has tails! Even Fauns and Satyrs have tails although they don't seem to know how to use their tails proper. Does your mate's fur have an opening to show off her haunches?"

Edmund buried his face in his hands with an almost silent groan of despair. Oreius is going to kill me.

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Alambiel tapped a finger against her chin as she examined the list of what she knew about Merry. It was a lot shorter than she liked. Charlie would have called Merry a ghost. Maybe that was her function. Or it could be any number of other probabilities. Maybe Merry simply wanted to live a life outside of the court. But . . .

She didn't trust that explanation. There was something else in the works, something else driving the motive behind Merry's being lured to the hill. She just needed to look at things differently. Rising from her chair, she picked up the notes she had taken so far and then walked into the sitting room of her old quarters and promptly spread them out on the rug before she lay down on her stomach, chin pillowed on her crossed arms.

"Does that actually help?"

"At least Ptah is considerate enough not to stand on me when he asks that question."

Sir Rupert chuckled and his weight shifted to rest more solidly between her shoulder blades. "Foxes are lighter than Leopards."

"They somehow manage to be far smugger too, which is quite the accomplishment." Alambiel grinned as she studied the incomplete timeline from beneath her lashes. The Fox had been so busy chasing his lady and aiding Edmund in running the spy network that she no longer saw him as often as she once did. Still the jokes were familiar territory and it helped her to clear the haunting memories the attack had stirred up. She didn't need those memories obscuring her focus right now (she could only pray that they wouldn't turn into nightmares tonight). "And sometimes changing one's perspective literally helps change to change it figuratively."

The timeline had a lot of holes. Some of them might be filled when she and Susan went to see Deianeira but she expected that there would still be others that remained unanswered until after she figured out Merry's place in the puzzle. Alambiel closed her eyes, shutting out the papers and notes. Rupert was shifting his paws, digging into her back and making her grateful that Foxes did not have retractable claws. She let out a slow breath. "Pawn. Bishop. Queen."

"Pardon?"

She didn't answer as she called to mind Merry's faint impression. Dark-haired, quiet, and always in the background. When was the last time she had actually interacted with Merry? Alambiel frowned. She had never interacted with Merry. She remembered the Nymph always being in the background, shier even than the Doe Faline, or so . . . or so she had always assumed. And every time she had attempted to approach Merry, the Nymph had managed to slip away but it had never seemed suspicious at the time. There had been no true reason to suspect Merry of being anything more than shy and a bit reserved. Until now.

And she had missed the signs. Alambiel shuddered. She had been counting on the fact that she hadn't found holes, or at least not as many holes, in her memories to be the proof that her instincts regarding a person's intent were still undamaged. Maybe she wasn't as on top of her game as she had hoped. She hadn't noticed the oddities in Merry's behavior and actions. Opening her eyes, Alambiel picked up one of the sheets of parchment and flipped it over to read. Merry had been seen leaving through Cair Paravel's main gates an hour past dawn. Her body was found on the same hill that Jezreel had used for her sniper's nest when she attempted to assassinate Susan when the Greyback brothers chased the two surviving Werewolves. That attack had occurred at a little over three hours past noon. It was a large window for Merry's unaccounted time but it would be at least somewhat narrowed once she knew time of death and if by some implausible happenstance the Kentauri didn't have the information, she would get it herself in the morn.

Why she had been killed was more of a puzzle. If Merry had just been a pawn in the game, someone who ran errands or carried missives or was otherwise manipulated into something, then why lure her to that hill? Of course, if the Werewolves had simply happened upon her . . .

No. Alambiel frowned at the timeline again. No, it didn't feel right. If Merry just had an unfortunate accident of crossing paths with Werewolves, something would have been different. She wasn't sure what but the feeling that this was more than an accident grew stronger as more pieces were added to the puzzle. Merry wasn't just a pawn. She was almost certain of it. But she probably wasn't the queen in this game either. Queens weren't sacrificed without reason. And so far a good reason hadn't shown up. Unless it was in those letters (something she had no desire to read again . . . and planned to avoid for as long as possible) or in something Deianeira knew.

But whatever Merry's role in the game, it had been terminated. Two birds with one stone? Or in this case, with the same Werewolf pack? Alambiel closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She wasn't going to get anywhere if she kept spinning in mental circles. Games have patterns even when one player doesn't care for the standard rules. She knew all about playing those games. Pick a thread in the pattern and follow it. Start with one piece of the puzzle and move out from it. A hole appeared in the security around Cair Paravel, big enough to let a small pack of Werewolves and a Hag inside but small enough to avoid detection. Three of the Werewolves came after her and Edmund. There was a fourth Werewolf according to what Edmund found out from his Wolves, which brought the sequence back to Merry.

Dropping her head against her hand, she suppressed the urge to groan. It was connected somehow but she still couldn't see it. Maybe Merry was the weak link in the chain and eliminated at the same time an attack was organized on Cair Paravel to dilute suspicions. The manner of death would tell her more on that angle. But there was no way whoever the puppet master could have sent the Werewolves after her and Edmund specifically because the visit to the beach had been a spur of the moment decision. They would need to cast a wide net until more information and evidence was found. But, she was more than convinced that Merry, her life, and her demise would tell them something about the puppet master's identity.

It was hard to believe that all of this had happened in the span of one afternoon. She reached back to rub her neck but paused when her hand brushed against thick fur. Rupert. She shifted but the Fox didn't move. Instead, he gave a little snort. Alambiel peeked over her shoulder, but all she could see was the white tip of Rupert's tail. "Rupert."

The Fox started then leapt to the side, allowing her to sit up. She bit back a giggle as he snorted then shook himself before blinking at her. "Uh, forgive me, Your Highness, I have been-"

"Sleeping."

Rupert shook himself again, looking rather embarrassed. "Yes, well, there have been a number of long days and nights since the Calormene delegation announced their travel plans."

Taking pity on the flustered Fox, Alambiel raised her hand. "It's all right, Rupert. After all, today has been a long day too." She looked up at the water clock and barely covered her own surprise that it was already past midnight. No wonder there was a crick in her neck . . . and her back. "I'm done here for tonight and Ptah will return to duty tomorrow. Go home, Master Fox."

Sir Rupert immediately shook his head but his protest was silenced before it could even form as the doors opened and Oreius' low rumble filled the room. "Indeed, Sir Rupert, the Princess Royal already has a sufficient escort for the rest of the night."

"Indeed, General." The Fox bowed to her. "Your Highness." Then he slipped by the Kentauri and out into the corridor, the white tip of his tail winking out of sight around the corner last of all.

Alambiel quickly gathered the notes and incomplete timeline. "I lost track of time, sorry, but I do have some ideas on where . . ." She faltered when she looked over her shoulder and took in how haggard her husband appeared. "Oreius?"

He ran a hand over his face. "Yes, I am listening. You have ideas."

"Yes buuuut I think we should discuss them and whatever you found out about Merry's death tomorrow. I'll know better which of my theories should be pursued then, anyway." He wasn't listening again. Instead, his dark gaze was focused on scanning the room. Alambiel bit her lip before she hurried into her study and locked everything inside the secret compartment hidden in the wall. Once the opening was concealed again, she rejoined the Kentauri in the sitting room.

He broke the silence just as she reached out to touch him. "Why did you come here?"

"Because this is where my study is, Oreius. And I can't use your study for most of my work because there are soldiers and pages coming in there all the time to deliver messages and reports. Besides I like to spread out when I work. Maintaining my study allows me to do so with smaller margins of interruptions by new soldiers and pages who will carry off tales about how the Princess Royal is sprawled on the floor and scribbling on papers like a madwoman." Oreius nodded slowly in response but he still seemed distracted and worried. It had worried him that she was in here; she just wasn't sure as to why. She placed her hand on his arm and rubbed. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, of course." He covered her hand with his own, stilling it against his arm. "Forgive me, I have been preoccupied."

He wasn't telling her something. Alambiel opened her mouth to press for the answers but then she decided to let it rest for tonight. Instead, she smiled at him. "That is perfectly understandable given the day we've been having. So," she slipped her hand around to the inside of his arm and gave a little tug as she moved toward the doors, "I was thinking we should have a midnight supper because I don't know about you but I worked through the banquet and I am starving."

"There should be a meal waiting for us."

The Kentauri said nothing more as they made the trek to their quarters. There was a meal waiting as he said but no attempt on her part won his attention. Instead, she watched as the shadows of worry and something else, some emotion that flickered into being when he looked at her but was just as quickly shuttered again, grew during the meal. He also left the table sooner, retreating into his study and shutting the door while she still lingered over the afters of a simple chocolate cake.

Alambiel stared at the closed door, debating which route to take, tricking Oreius into coming out so she could nail the door shut until morn or simply carrying another piece of cake in there and refusing to leave until he was ready to come with her. Both choices had their appeal. She just wasn't sure which one Oreius needed her to take. She took another bite of cake, weighing the options, and then nearly jumped out of her skin when Oreius abruptly opened the door. He shot her an unfathomable look and then went directly to the main doors and locked them.

"Oreius, what's wrong?"

He didn't turn around at first. His tail was flicking, lashing against his flanks, as he rumbled, "I need you to do some things for me."

"Oreius, I-"

"It is important, Alambiel!" Before she could question him, Oreius wheeled around. The look in his eyes as he approached her made her blood run cold. Fear, stark fear, filled his gaze as he stopped in front of her and took her hands in his. "Listen to me. I need you to give me your word that you will not leave the palace, not for any reason." He must have seen the bewilderment in her expression because his explanation became more rushed, more unlike him. "I know you are capable of defending yourself against known threats but I need you to stay inside. Do not go into the shops or the barracks or the armory or the gardens, nowhere outside the palace. I am adding four more guards to your retinue. They are all Birds and have been given the instructions to blend in as much as possible with the pages and other guards. I need you to behave and to let your guards fulfill their duties without leading them on a chase or testing them."

"I don't know what to say."

But she did see that had been the wrong thing to say. Oreius knelt in front of her, his grip on her hands tightening almost painfully, as his eyes searched hers. "Alambiel. Please. I am begging you to do this for me. Please. I know. I know I am asking you to go against your nature, against your preferred manner of handling threats, but I need you to do this, to adhere to a tighter level of security. Please. I will not be able to focus on my tasks if I am worried about you and whether you are protected. I cannot lose you too."

"Oreius." Alambiel stopped, a shiver of fear making its way down her spine. Her Kentauri never begged, never, and yet that was exactly what he was doing. Slipping off the chaise lounge to kneel in front of him, she squeezed his hands. "All right." She carefully wriggled her hands out of his grasp then wrapped her arms around his neck, not even letting herself flinch when he accidentally brushed against her bruises as he wrapped his own arms around her, pulling her close. She kissed his neck. "All right, I won't leave the palace or give the guards any extra training. I can take care of my side of the investigation without leaving, anyway."

Whatever else was going on, whatever was driving Oreius to ask her to do these things, she would coax him into telling her later. Right now, what he needed to hear was her agreement. And she could make the compromise, for his sake. She hadn't come back from that patrol with just a former sorcerer, after all.

She dropped another kiss against his shoulder. "Come with me."

Only then did Oreius loosen his hold on her, allowing her to lean back slightly. He touched her face, eyes searching her once more. "Where?"

"To bed." She smiled slightly. "You do remember where it is, don't you?"

Her playful mocking finally lured the faintest hint of a smile out. The Kentauri pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "I suppose I will hear naught but your teasing if I do not prove that I do."

Alambiel rose, grinning wider now that she knew he wasn't going to barricade himself in his study again, and shrugged. "Well, you seemed to be under the impression that the study was your bedchamber for the last week. It would be understandable if you were confused. An undiagnosed concussion perhaps? Or maybe it's just all that stress eating at your memory?"

She let out a yelp, which swiftly turned to laughter, as Oreius scooped her into his arms. The Kentauri's smile was far more sincere and the haunted look had ceded from his gaze. He chuckled. "You little minx. Are my distractions forever doomed to be a source for your amusement?"

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she made a show of thinking it over. "Hmm, I'm going to have to say yes."

"I shall have to endeavor to deprive you that particular amusement."

Alambiel snickered. "Are you going to make up for it?"

"Yes." Then he kissed her.

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Edmund collapsed on his bed with a groan. Every inch of his body ached. Oreius' displeasure at Remus' impertinent, inappropriate, and . . . and, oh yes, brazen questions regarding Kat and- Haunches. Lion's mane, tail, and whiskers! Why did Remus ask about haunches, especially Kat's haunches?

He groaned again then turned his face into the cool coverlet, wondering if it was even worth the effort of undressing and turning down the covers. He wasn't sure he could move anymore. Oreius had decided that both he and Peter were in desperate need of seven visits to the points of the compass as soon as they finished with their assigned tasks, which included the banquet. They hadn't been forced to visit the points of the compass at night for over a year . . . now Oreius was planning to add a nocturnal visit to their training regime at least twice a week.

Edmund groaned. All of this was Peter's fault. His brother had had the perfectly disastrous idea to assign two green Wolf pups as his personal guard just because he felt bad about them getting in trouble for his idiotic decision to sneak into Telmar. Edmund wearily rolled over onto his back and then sighed as he contemplated the effort it would take to remove his boots. Too much. But Susan would have a fit if he went to bed with his boots on. Again.

"Alpha?" The bed shook as a large weight jumped up onto it. Edmund draped his arm over his eyes but he could still see Remus (who else could the contrite tone belong to?) as the Wolf snuffled his curled fingers. "Alpha. I'm sorry I asked inappropriate questions again. It was on accident."

Edmund lay still for a moment then he lowered his arm and reached out to bury his fingers in the Wolf's thick grey fur. "I know. You're not in trouble. But, Remus, you need to be more careful about what you ask. Next time you want to ask the general a question and it's not about your duties or a report, you should ask me if it's an appropriate question first."

He grinned a little when he heard the Wolf's tail beat against the coverlet. Then Remus dragged his tongue up the side of his face. "Yes, Alpha, I'll remember."

The pup probably wouldn't once he got excited about something. But, he'd try and that was enough. Once he and his brother finished growing up, they would make fine royal guards. Remus suddenly licked him again then cheerfully pointed out, "Alpha, you taste funnier than normal."

Of course, whether he would last long enough to see them grown up was a different matter entirely.

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A/N: Please Read and Review! Oh what a tangled web this is! Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one. Requests for a Sweethearts' Day fic?