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: When memory is veiled, can the love forged between two hearts survive?

A/N: If you have not read the first seven stories in the A Light in the Darkness main story arc (Awakened, Shadowed, Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, and Reflected), 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 Five: One More Breath

He sharpened his blade, enjoying the strike of stone against steel almost as much as he enjoyed steel cutting deep into flesh. Setting the sharpening stone aside, he opened the long, narrow box of carved teak wood. Careful to hold his breath, he coated the dagger in the fine powder. Mergu Tedraja, the Slow Death, when activated by contact with liquid, water or blood, it seeped into its victim's body and wracked them with convulsions as it attacked their lungs, cutting off their air supply over a matter of weeks, while rendering them blind. It was a slow and agonizing death and there was but one antidote, an antidote he had not troubled himself to bring when he was forced to come here.

"You are very confident for someone who has failed a very simple task twice, Angra."

He tensed, fingers wrapping around the ornate hilt of his dagger, and glared at the cloaked and hooded figure. "I have ensured my man will be in place to carry out your most pressing task, O Master of Sorcerers."

The hint of a red flash beneath the deep hood made his fingers tighten even further around the dagger. But, there was only scorn in the cursed one's voice, no spell. "Do not think that empty Calormene flatteries will convince me to forget what I have seen, Angra."

"I am not Angra! I am-"

"The product of one of the Tisroc's many dalliances and had you been born on the right side of the blanket to a Calormene girl instead of a Lone Islander, you would currently be third in line for the throne."

He froze as this devil from the far north tossed his harlot of a mother's shame in front of him. How he hated this creature. "She is dead."

"Not yet. Lew's Daughter yet clings to life. Though I provided a strong wind to push the Narnian ship to the Seven Isles as swiftly as possible without incurring their suspicion and then enabled your ship to reach Ettinsmoor within the span of six hours, you still did not accomplish your task. I should have recalled the Werewolves, after all."

He sneered at the sorcerer. "If your magic is so powerful, why not strike the Narnian witch down?"

"Because she is protected! Like the Four, Lew's Daughter is favored by the Great Cat and He notices when someone uses magic to strike against His favored ones. I am not so stupid as my predecessors to believe that the Great Cat will not use something more powerful than my own magic to stop me. I do not want His attention, which is why you and your self-proclaimed followers will carry out the rest of the tasks perfectly."

"What of the woman?"

The flash of red appeared within the shrouded depths of the hood once more. "The Great Cat's means of cheating death will not reach her in time. I have seen that she will not last more than two days and nights…my storm will keep the little queen and her vial away that long."

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There was a storm in the distance, its grey curtain illuminated by flashes of lightning, but it came no nearer to Cair Paravel than it had over the last two days and it brought no relief to the oppressive heat. Oreius feared the Morning Dove was caught in that squall. And if the cordial did not come soon… He shook his head and forced his attention back to his paperwork. He could not think like that. A brightly colored Humming Bird darted into his study and whispered in his ear, "The healers request your presence. Quickly."

Alarm coursed through him but he forced himself not to gallop, not to draw too much attention. Too many whispers filled the Cair concerning his Alambiel as it was and he had doubled the guard on her room as a result. The junior healers were preoccupied with various tasks, but two emerged from the hall leading from the main room to the smaller, private rooms and they did not meet his eyes. He fought back the fear that sought to sink its claws into him even as he forced down the growing urge to gallop into the room. It was only a few more steps.

Passing the guards, he pushed the door open and entered the room he was now far too familiar with. Tuulea and Alithia were standing beside the bed, blocking his view of Alambiel, while Tanith was gathering several bloodstained cloths. He could hear Alambiel's labored breaths…they were even fainter than they had been when he left this morn, but she still breathed. She still breathed. "What happened?"

The healers stilled for a moment then Tanith slipped past him, not meeting his gaze. Alithia turned to face him, allowing him to see how pale his lady was beneath the discoloring bruises and bandages. His breath caught in his chest when he spied the flecks of red at the corner of her mouth before Tuulea wiped it away. He met Alithia's grey eyes and waited. "She stopped breathing a few minutes ago."

"But, she is breathing now." He did not comment on how frail and faint those breaths were but neither Tuulea nor Alithia pointed it out. "The Valiant will come. Soon."

Alithia touched his arm. "Not soon enough."

He pulled away, moving toward the bed. "Don't."

"Oreius, I am telling you this as your friend. Alambiel isn't-"

"She is a survivor and she need only survive a little while longer. The Valiant will come," he stated emphatically. His fingers curled in her hair. "A day, perhaps two more and then she will have cordial."

Alithia touched his shoulder, but he pulled away. "Oreius, she is dying and she doesn't have another day or two. Alambiel should not be alive right now. They injured her too severely. You know this; no matter how much you try to deny it, you know this is true. She fought to escape and she has fought far longer than we expected to stay, but this is not a fight she can win any longer."

Oreius shook his head once. "No. She can survive a little longer and that is all she needs to survive, just for a little while longer. She's never been one to do as she was told. Why would she listen to anyone who says she cannot survive long enough for the cordial?"

The Centauress sighed then murmured, "It's not her choice anymore. Tuulea, tell him."

"Young one, you are not the only one who loves Alambiel." The Black Elder Nymph reached over Alambiel to touch his hand, which was still tangled in her golden hair. He reluctantly looked up to meet her sorrow-filled gaze, the one who was as close to both dam and grandam as Alambiel ever had. Tuulea closed her eyes for a moment then opened them again, this time with tears shimmering in them. "But, she is bleeding internally and her right lung is perilously close to collapse. The ones who did this to her broke so many bones that it is nearly impossible to treat her without aggravating some injury or risking her lungs being punctured. It's time to let her go."

The vise around his heart squeezed painfully tight. He could not accept it. He would not accept it. "No."

"Oreius-" Alithia cut herself off as Alambiel gasped then coughed. Her breathing grew more distressed then it stopped. "Move. Oreius, get back."

As the healers fluttered with quick efficiency around Alambiel's bed, Oreius counted heartbeats as he strained to hear even the softest of breaths. He clenched his hands into fists, wishing there was some way he could do something to help her, wishing he could turn back time and stop the abduction before his Alambiel suffered such hurt. But, it was pointless to contemplate such things. All he could do was stand back and pray she breathed again. Relief, sharp and cool, filled him when he heard the faint gasping breaths resume. But, they sounded even weaker than before and he could not deny the grim looks exchanged by the healers. "Tell me."

"Her right lung has collapsed." Alithia shook her head then moved to the side. "This is the end, Oreius. I'm sorry."

He wanted to argue. But, she looked so much worse. Her lips were tinged with blue now and her breaths were growing fainter by the minute…and he could not do so much as hold her hand. Moving closer, he touched her hair again, twining a golden strand around his finger. Bowing his head, he pressed a kiss to the soft lock. Alambiel's breathing grew more distressed again and he knew, he knew he was losing her this time, that he would not see her again until he too went to Aslan's Country.

Aslan…

The sound of boots slamming against the marble floors pulled Oreius' attention toward the door. His dark colt burst into the room. "The Dove is at the harbor!"

Oreius galloped past the colt. Alambiel's rattling, gasping breaths still haunted him, filling his ears even as he raced out of the Cair's gates. Please, Alsan. Let her stay. Unheeding of the heat, he stretched himself, pushing the bounds of his endurance until he clattered across the dock. The Morning Dove was still being brought in and he spotted Queen Lucy standing next to the railing. The Valiant saw him and even from where he was, he could see the color drain from her face. She spun and shouted at the crew, but the answer was not what she wanted and not what he wanted.

The memory of Alambiel's desperate gasps with the death rattle slowly seeping into them haunted him and he moved as near the edge of the pier as he could. Queen Lucy reached down and he caught a glimpse of the cordial in her hand before her arm went back and then the vial hurtled through the air. Oreius reared and stretched out his arm, unsure of whether she had thrown it hard enough to reach him. Aslan. The cordial landed just on the tips of his outstretched fingers and he brought up his other hand, cupping the precious treasure securely.

Wheeling around, he raced back to the Cair. Sweat and lather formed as he pushed himself harder. He had to reach Alambiel. The High King, his bride, and the Gentle had joined King Edmund and they scattered as Oreius charged into the room. Alambiel gasped then she stopped breathing entirely. Tuulea snatched the cordial from his hand and administered one ruby drop between Alambiel's blue-tinged lips. Panting, Oreius watched and waited and prayed that he had made it in time, that the cordial had been administered in time. Again, he counted heartbeats even as he regulated his own breathing. He was only half-aware of how sweat and lather dripped off his body as he strained to hear Alambiel breathe again even as he ignored the whispering doubt in the back of his mind that he had lost her, that he had once again failed her when she needed him.

Finally, he heard it. A deep, shuddering breath then another and another until Alambiel's breathing settled into a deep, restful pattern. Oreius exhaled softly, releasing the breath he had not realized he'd been holding. She was alive. She was healed. Tuulea frowned at him just then and made a shooing gesture. "All of you out while we remove the bandages. Some of you may return after we are done. Others," she gave him a pointed look, "may only return after they have made themselves presentable."

Oreius bowed his head in silent acknowledgment. This time he did not protest being ushered out with the colts and fillies. This time he knew Alambiel was healed. And when she woke, she would remember. She would remember everything, including him,

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A/N: Please Read and Review!