Liana sighed, leaning her forehead against her palm as she shut her third book of the night and pushed it off to the side. A quick glance at the sky outside told her it was night time, probably closer to sunrise than anything else. The gnawing sensation in her stomach confirmed she had missed yet another meal and if Lyra's current disapproving glare was any indication, she had also missed normal sleeping hours.

"Perhaps you should return to your rooms, Healer Liana. I have been told a wooden chair and a desk are not comfortable resting places for humans," the subtleness of Lyra's words was not lost on Liana, who merely sighed and grabbed the next book, opening it to the first page and beginning to read again. Lyra did not bother to argue: after three days of this routine, she knew better.

After the fiasco at the Count's trial, Liana had woken up in a daze in Edmund's room, her shoes off and her head heavy with sleep. Lucy was at her bedside, her face solemn but kind. She had told her that Edmund had practically carried her out of the room, since she had been too overcome to move herself. He had taken her to his rooms, put her on the bed, kissed her forehead and left. Somewhere between those actions Liana had fainted, so Lucy had stayed and given her a potion to help her rest. However, Edmund had not returned.

At first, Liana had waited. Then, she realized that if he wanted to see her, he would come find her. Her mental state was not fit to go through a grueling interrogation, so she had escaped to the Houses. Lucy had followed her at first, but left after a few hours once she was sure Liana was not going to pass out. Lyra had returned to her then, given her a look that was full of knowing and something akin to sympathy. And that was all.

For three days, Liana had neither seen nor heard from Edmund. She supposed it was her fault too. She had used her office as a barrier between herself and the outside world, retreating inside every time a patient came and only coming out when she was sure it would be too busy for her to be noticed. She had slept on and off in her chair, used the facilities in the Houses to wash her face and change into the spare dresses she kept there, and had eaten whatever was put in front of her. The food that had come had been in the same dishes she ate in at the Cair, which meant that while the Pevensies did not want her to starve, it was obvious they were not ready to see her yet either. Susan had visited her, once, if only to give her a hug and say that she did not believe a word of what "that horrible man" was saying and she would convince Peter to stop looking into it. Liana had not had the heart to tell her it was no use. Perhaps it would be better for Peter to break the news to her, once he inevitably gathered all the information he needed.

She wanted, no, she needed to speak to Edmund herself, but she realized she could not. Not only was it ridiculous for her to go running after him when he, as a king, should be demanding answers from her, she had no idea where he was. Lyra was no help, since she had looked genuinely surprised when Liana told her that Edmund had not stayed until she woke, but had rather left as soon as she was out cold. Susan had been just as helpless, and Lucy and Peter had not visited, which made Liana reluctant to go see them herself.

The book was about swamps. Liana focused on the words rather than her and churning stomach, something she had been doing since she had started reading two nights ago. It was calming, and there were no surprises in the books since she knew exactly what each contained. It was counterproductive to her research, but she could not help it. She felt sick.

"You need sleep," Lyra cut through her thoughts, her tone uncharacteristically stern. "And we both know you need to speak with someone about the accusation that has been made."

"It was the truth and you know it, Lyra," Liana sighed, finally speaking for what seemed like the first time in days. Her voice cracked and she ran a hand through her hair tiredly. "You've known from the beginning."

"And yet I and Orius are the only ones who know why, Healer Liana," Lyra sounded frustrated. "Surely you can see that once you tell them all will be well?"

"Doesn't matter," Liana shook her head. "Reasons are irrelevant. I did it. That's all that can be said."

"King Edmund will not see it like that."

"The world doesn't revolve around bloody King Edmund!" spat Liana suddenly, her bitterness taking even her by surprise. "He will not offer me absolution because he does not have that right. Only I can forgive myself, and I will not because I did deserve the punishment that I have evaded. Its gone on long enough!"

Lyra was quiet. "You cannot be tried in Narnia for such a crime."

"Peter will send me back home. He knows it's the right thing to do."

"But the king-"

"Lyra, its not always about kings!" Liana groaned and buried her face into her hands. "A king isn't the most dangerous enemy one can have. Believe me, I know. If I go back, someone will kill me, with or without a royal order."

"Then tell them," Lyra kept her voice even. "The truth, Healer Liana, about what happened and why you did it."

"No. It will only make things worse."

"Why is that?"

"Because he'll never trust me again," Liana sighed and bit her lip, ignoring the tears that threatened to fall. "I've broken his heart, I can tell. If he doesn't hate me for being a murderer, he hates me for lying to him. He knew I had secrets and, foolish man that he is, he accepted me without learning all of them. I thought it would only get me into trouble, but I've hurt him, Lyra, I've hurt them all."

"Tell them the truth and they will forgive you," said Lyra gently. "You are the one who needs comforting, child, not them. Come, sleep in a bed and in the morning you will be better equipped to deal with this."

Liana groaned, but slammed the book shut nonetheless. Lyra's incessant fussing was not going to let her research, and she could feel her head heavy on her shoulders as she gathered her sash from the corner she had flung it in and slipped her feet back into her shoes. It was useless to attempt to clean her office, it was littered with any number of papers and broken quills. She merely blew out the candles, grabbed her cloak and obediently followed Lyra out into the dark night.

"Nobody is here," noted Liana as they crossed the grounds and made their way towards the small entrance that served as a shortcut to the private wing. "I expected more people to be about."

Lyra made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort. "It is still the middle of the night, child. Many people are still asleep."

Liana hummed in response, feeling her eyelids drooping. With great effort, she kept them open and allowed Lyra to lead her towards her room. Absently, she wondered how long she would be allowed to stay and when someone would finally come to tell her to leave. Perhaps Aslan would appear to her in a dream and offer to let her choose death by his hand rather than someone else's. Liana snorted at the thought, ignoring the odd look that Lyra gave her. Her room was dark, the heavy curtains drawn across her repaired window. The dresses she had tossed onto the divan were still lying there haphazardly, and her mirror was still tilted in the same position she had adjusted it into when she had made her hair the day of the questioning. All in all, everything was the same.

What she did not expect to see was the body lying sprawled on her bed.

For one horrible moment, a memory flashed before her eyes, one that she had fought hard to repress. It was a man with dark hair and cruel, green eyes, his face contorted in pain and surprise, the cream colour of his bed sheets stained with red as he lay spread-eagled on the bed much like this person was on hers. Liana would have started screaming had it not been for the light snores that came from the body. She snapped out of it, pushed the memory back into the dark confines of her mind, and approached the bed slowly. Lyra was in front of her, so she knew she was in no immediate danger, but her hand automatically went into her pocket, touching the wretched dagger that had started the whole mess in the first place.

It was Edmund. Liana let out a breath she had not realized she had been holding in and sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. He did not move at the slight jostle, his snores still light and even. She frowned and automatically reached out a hand, brushing his hair out of his eyes. The faint light of the room outlined his face, showing her the dark circles and slight stubble on his cheeks, something she had never seen before. She bit her lip, her eyes wandering. They landed on the bottles lying on the carpeted floor, both of them empty. It made her groan, and Lyra shook her head when she saw what Liana had seen. Edmund's tolerance for drink was non-existent, and that was only when he had mead or something akin to that. The bottles on the floor were hard liquor, the kind that sailors and soldiers kept for rough journeys to lighten their spirits. The fact that there were two empty bottles and another third one that was half full made her want to both roll her eyes and bury her face into her hands.

"I will be outside," Lyra's voice was quiet as she turned on her heel towards the door. "You should speak to him when he wakes up, he'll be in too much pain to resist," she added dryly. The door clicked shut, and Liana was alone.

She sighed, but stood up nonetheless. Edmund could have his drink-induced stupor for a while longer: she needed a bath to clear her head.

!

Liana winced and removed his other shoe, tossing it to the floor and glancing up to see that Edmund had not moved. She bent down to collect the bottles from the floor, trying to limit the amount of noise she would make. Though she knew the only reason Lyra was leaving her alone with him was so they could talk, she could not help but delay the act for as long as possible. She carefully put the bottles near the door, intending to take them out in the morning, and finally sat down in the chair she had pulled closer to the bed.

She had piled all of her wet hair on top of her head to stop it getting in the way and, as another delaying technique, she undid the pins holding it in place and let the wet locks tumble down her back, beginning the lengthy process of brushing out the tangles and braiding it for the night. Edmund did not move while she worked, and she began to lose her nerve. If he was that tired, she did not want to wake him, and yet wake him she must lest he see her in the morning and kick her out of the castle.

He would never do that, of course. The fact that she had even thought he was capable of that made her wince. She ran a hand through her hair, hurriedly tied the end with a spare ribbon and resolutely rested a hand on Edmund's shoulder, shaking him awake.

After a few minutes of incessant prodding, he was finally awake. His eyes were slightly bloodshot, but they focused on her face easily enough. Liana bit her lip, reaching out a hand hesitantly. Edmund took it without comment, allowing her to help him sit up. He groaned, however, and made to lie back down. However, Liana grabbed his arm, gently tugging until he was sitting up, his head leaning against the back of the bed.

"You shouldn't drink," she murmured, half-scolding and half-amused. The vial of pain-killing potion she had kept on his bedside table caught his eye, and she inclined her head, indicating for him to take it. Once he was done, Liana made to pull her hand away, but Edmund caught it before she could. He kept his eyes trained on her face and raised her hand to his lips, kissing it softly.

Liana felt as if someone had simultaneously punched her in the stomach and removed a weight off her chest at his gesture. She knew what it meant. No matter what happened, or what she said, Edmund would be on her side. She had hurt him, she had basically done the equivalent of taking a knife and carving into his flesh for fun, but here he was getting drunk and falling asleep on her bed and then kissing her hands as if he had something to apologize for. She could not understand if she should be angry or happy.

"You should have told me what happened," his voice was hoarse and he sounded exhausted, but his grip on her hand remained strong as he leaned back to rest his head. His eyes were tired. "I would have protected you no matter what."

Liana couldn't speak. When he spoke that way and looked at her with the clear love in his eyes she felt stupid and selfish for keeping a secret that she knew would ultimately hurt her and those around her. Her eyes flickered down to their linked hands. Edmund sighed when she didn't respond. "You need to tell me exactly what happened so I can help you, Liana."

"Edmund, I-"

"You're sorry," his voice still sounded tired. He squeezed her hand. "I know, love. I forgive you."

"You shouldn't," the familiar burning behind her closed eyelids was back. She hadn't cried since the whole mess had begun. "You shouldn't even be giving me a second chance. I know I hurt you."

"I would hurt more if something happened to you," he said simply. He sat up straighter and swung his legs off the bed, wincing slightly as another bout of dizziness hit him. Liana looked up at him in astonishment, her eyes still wet with tears. Edmund merely shook his head and caressed her face briefly. "I'm fine, I promise. I've been asleep for a long time."

Liana frowned. "How long have you been here, Edmund?"

He shrugged. "How long have you been locked away in your office?"

Liana's gaze faltered. "You've been in here for three days?"

"Has it been that long?" Edmund ran a hand through his hair and shrugged again, making his way towards the sofa and sinking down onto it with a sigh. His gaze fell on the bottles by the door as he beckoned Liana to join him. "I suppose Lucy was the one who confiscated the rest of the bottles."

"There were more?" Liana felt sick.

"I don't exactly remember," he gave her a grim smile. "Come here, Liana, we really do need to talk."

"You should sleep more," Liana wiped her eyes roughly, standing up and coming to a stop in front of him. "We can talk tomorrow, I won't leave this time."

Edmund shook his head. "We are talking now. Sit," he indicated the space next to him. His tone was still gentle, but his eyes were harder than usual, and Liana did not want to argue. Wordlessly, she sat down next to him. As if to soften the blow, Edmund took her hand again. "I need you to tell me exactly what happened. I will try not to interrupt you, but if I do I need you to assure me you won't change your story," she nodded. Edmund squeezed her hand. "You're not in any trouble, I promise. Nobody took the allegations seriously; Peter was looking in to them but you are safe here. I can protect you, Liana, but only if you stop keeping secrets from me. Can you do that?" she nodded again. Edmund smiled a little, a half-hearted effort. "Good."

"I can tell this story to someone else," said Liana quietly. She avoided his eyes. "You can send Lucy, or even Susan or Peter. I won't lie to any of them, I promise."

"Why won't you tell me?" the trickle of hurt in his voice was impossible to miss. Liana didn't answer. There was a beat of silence before Edmund spoke again. This time, his voice was dark. "You did it, didn't you?"

"You know the answer to that."

"Answer the question."

Liana winced at the sharpness of his tone. "Yes, I did."

"Why?" she didn't answer. "Damn it, Liana, answer me!" his grip on her hand was painful and his eyes were dark and stormy when she finally plucked up the courage to look at him. She had seen his anger, thinly veiled behind the affection and slight disorientation, and it was exactly this anger that she wanted to avoid. Despite the pain in her hands, she firmly kept her mouth shut, knowing that as soon as she spoke he would lose his mind completely.

She didn't know how long they sat like that, her hands willingly imprisoned in his own, much larger and much stronger ones. She didn't move a muscle, only flicked her gaze back down to avoid the anger in his eyes. She could feel them burning a hole into her head, and Edmund's anger emanated off of him in waves, but still she did not speak. The sun had risen by now, and her head ached. She knew his wouldn't be much better, since the painkilling potion he had taken would need to be replenished soon. Still, she did not move.

It felt like an age had passed before there was a light knock at the door and Susan poked her head in. She was immaculately dressed, and expressed not even the slightest amount of surprise at their presence in the room, or the bottles at her feet. Her eyes were carefully blank as she approached the two. Her cold fingers touched their joint hands, jolting them both back to reality. Edmund let her go immediately, and Liana felt his whole body stiffen when he saw the marks on her wrists, clear impressions of his fingers where they had dug into her skin. Without a word, he got up and left, the only indication of his anger being the slam of the door behind her. Liana winced.

Susan sighed and sat down in her brother's vacant seat, resting her hands on Liana's. "I knew you'd never tell him," Liana looked up. There was a sad smile on her friend's face. "What happened, Liana?"

She had often imagined this moment, the moment where she could finally tell someone what had happened so that they could save her, or at least help her. She had never gotten to feel the security that came with confessing someone else's guilt to a person who would keep her safe no matter what. Edmund was the only person in the world who could give her that sense of security, but the fact that he had just left the room without a word told Liana that his trust and forgiveness, if there was any chance of her ever reclaiming it, would be a hard thing to win back.

Susan was different. Susan had never pretended to be something she was not. They had always been friends, and Susan had been the only person who understood Liana's desire to be proper and respectful, her need to keep a distance from the young queen despite the fact that Susan showered her with attention and gifts and made it quite clear that she would be Liana's friend whether she liked it or not. Susan couldn't give her security, but Susan would listen, and Susan wouldn't kill for her.

"I had to do it," her calm voice surprised even her as she met Susan's gaze steadily. "He tried to rape me."