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 Ten: Terror

22 Twirleaf 1008

"You should see her."

"No."

"Oreius." Alithia stamped a hoof before she pointed at the door. "She is looking for anything to give her some footing. Alambiel doesn't even know who she can trust anymore and she is extremely wary, especially after the Valiant's attempt to help by bringing her to a tea two days ago. And she came to you once."

He sighed and turned away. "She does not need me to complicate this situation further and she was not comfortable when she came to me. And it would not take much to push her back into terror, would it?"

"You are being too protective in this case and too selfless by half." Alithia came up beside him and touched his shoulder. "Have you spoken to her even once since she tried to talk to you?

His jaw tightened and he could make no answer.

"You haven't then."

"Alambiel needs…time. I am giving her that."

"And removing your protection as her shield and confidant." The Centauress didn't flinch at his glare. Instead, her grey eyes met his defiantly and with more than a touch of censure. "Her night terrors are growing worse. You promised to be her shield well before love grew in your heart for her and you know it."

He closed his eyes. "When did they increase?"

"Eight days ago."

After she had come to see him then. After she had looked at him with lost, empty eyes. Oh Aslan, how could he mend the situation without making it worse? Perhaps he had already made it worse if Alambiel's night terrors had increased after their encounter. He looked at Alithia and forced himself to speak the words in spite of the heavy foreboding that this time he would not be able to help Alambiel, that he would not be able to shield her save from the effects of his own presence. "I will speak to her."

ӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁ

Alambiel paced the room; the minimal yet still feminine decorations did not feel familiar. Of course, her own reflection was still of a stranger, though she didn't look quite so pale. The Leopard, Ptah, had woken her twice the night before due to nightmares she couldn't even remember. And then her days…

She ran her hands over her hair, trying not to feel overwhelmed–trying and failing. So many names. So many faces. And she couldn't recall any of them from before…from before everything became a blank slate. She was so very tired of seeing that hurt in their eyes when she said or did something wrong, something that didn't match their memory of her, whoever she was. It was worse with the Kings and Queens…and Tuulea. Such hurt and disappointment in their eyes and nothing she did was right.

A soft cry of frustration escaped her as she whirled around. Alambiel felt the overwhelming need to run, to just leave, get out of this place before she brought any more hurt to the people who claimed she was a dear friend. She needed some place to go, to think, to...to hide. Pulling open the wardrobe, she dug through the dresses. Tossing the rejected ones behind her onto the bed, she muttered under her breath, "Isn't there something in here that doesn't come with a train?" She raised an eyebrow at the more elaborate dresses, feeling soft silks and velvets under her fingertips. She tossed them on the bed too.

She had reached the dresses tucked in the back of the wardrobe when she heard someone opening the doors to her chambers. Fear sent a cold chill down her spine and she silently climbed into the wardrobe, pulling the doors to until only the slightest crack remained. She could hear the intruder moving closer, but his or her steps were muffled by the rugs and she could not discern anything specific that might identify the being as friend or foe. Instinctively, she felt for a groove in the far back corner of the wardrobe and touched it, pushing it down and pulling out the dagger.

She heard armor clink and the creak of leather as a large shadow drew parallel with the wardrobe. Again, instinct took over and she flung the door open hard, following through with her dagger. A large hand grabbed her wrist while the other stopped the door. General Oreius was looking at her with something akin to shock. The words came from somewhere deep inside her, bubbling up in a taunting tone before she could stop them. "You needn't look so surprised. My greeting is naught less than you deserve, Kentauri."

His eyes widened and Alambiel felt the confidence slip away as it had never emerged. "I should not have said that."

The General shook his head and for a moment she thought she saw a glimmer of something in his dark eyes, was it…regret? But he spoke before she could apologize again. "It is all right. I should have announced myself." His fingers gently wrapped around hers and she stiffened at the whispering memory of someone else, of…

A hand clamped around hers, pressing her hand flat against the low table that had been placed in front of the chair until they secured the rope bindings. She couldn't see him this time, but she knew he was there. She could hear him breathing. His favorite goon came forward, his too pretty face not so pretty now that she had broken his nose during her last escape attempt, and in his hand was a war hammer. Her captor whispered in her ear, brushing his stubble-covered jaw against her skin. "Now, your highness, tell us how to get in. Or you won't be able to paint the beautiful murals anymore."

This was going to hurt. The thought made her laugh through the blood dripping from her now broken nose. "Never."

"As you wish, Ishara Reborn."

The goon swung the war hammer. Her bones crunched. The scream ripped past her clenched teeth…

"Alambiel! Stop. It's all right. Listen to me. Focus on my voice, not his. Look at me. You are safe. I swear it, Alambiel, I swear you are safe."

She looked up…far up. The General stared down at her with obvious concern etched across his face. He still held the dagger. Alambiel looked down and realized she was on the floor with her hands clutched against her heart. Tears streamed down her face and her throat was hoarse. She could hear voices murmuring just outside her bedchamber. No, she couldn't be a spectacle again. "Make them go away."

At first, she didn't think he heard her but then he turned and walked to the open door. She tuned out the conversation as she finally pried her hands open and stared at them. They were whole.

"Was it a knife?"

Alambiel looked up again and spotted the General still standing in the doorway. She shook her head. "W-war hammer. He had my hand, my dominant hand crushed by a war hammer." She clamped both hands over her mouth as that horrible snippet of a memory replayed itself and the tears flowed unchecked. There was another whispered conversation but this time when she looked up, it was not the General who stood nearby, but Tuulea. The Nymph knelt next to her and Alambiel didn't protest or try to pull away when Tuulea pulled her close, murmuring soothingly against her hair. Nor did she breathe a word that for some reason the Nymph's mothering embrace was not the one she wanted most, that some piece of her wanted strong yet tender arms to hold her. None of it made any sense.

ӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁ

23 Twirleaf 1008

Alambiel tugged nervously on her dress sleeves. The main reason she'd agreed to this little outing was because she had felt so bad about upsetting Queen Lucy earlier that week, and now... Now, her head hurt so much she wouldn't have been surprised if a hammer would have brought relief instead of pain. The man, a visitor from one of the islands, was walking so close to Lucy's side that Alambiel frowned. Why didn't someone make him back off?

He glanced over his shoulder at her and her head nearly exploded with pain. But, in the midst of the pain, she could hear voices.

"Use this to kill the Queens. Careful. One nick and you will die a most agonizing death while wasting one of my most valuable weapons."

Nervous eyes glanced at her as she slumped forward against the ropes tying her to the chair. "Are you sure we should be talking in front of her?"

"She'll be dead, mysteriously vanished in the dark of the night."

Her instincts reared again. Lucy's in danger. She saw a glint of a blade as the man pretended to stumble, pressing close to the bare flesh of Lucy's hand as she turned to help him. No!

She lunged forward, tackling the man away from Lucy. Ignoring the youngest Queen's terrified cry of one of her names, all Alambiel could think of was to get rid of the threat. They rolled down the slight hill, crashing into a flowerbed, flattening the late fall flowers. He reached back and she caught another glimpse of that poisoned blade in his hand. If it got near Lucy… She wrapped her arm around his neck, putting him in a chokehold before she placed her other hand on his face and then she gave a sharp twist. A crack filled the air and he went limp. She dropped him.

Scrambling to her feet, she stared down at the man. The count from the Lone Islands' rugged face was now lax in death. "Kat!" Queen Lucy's cry barely penetrated her thoughts as she continued to watch the man. More shouts and running feet. Alambiel didn't move. Her hands were shaking as she stared at his unseeing eyes. She'd killed him. Oh, she had killed him. What had she done? What was she really? She stared at her hands now. What if he didn't crush the hand of an artist…but of a monster? What am I?

ӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁ

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