WARNING: description of very unpleasant events in the second half of the chapter.

Beta'd by trustingHim17!


Rilian dozes, but does not let himself sleep. He knows the nightmares wait if he does. When the sky finally lightens, he is second to rise. An old sailor rises first, Rilian follows, and the rest begin to stir as Rilian buckles on his sword. The kitchens have packed breakfasts for them, sitting right outside the door. Two soldiers gather the food to take along, but Rilian does not think he'll be able to eat. They make their way to the boats.

Jarmu sits in the first boat, Piram right beside him. Rilian is in it too, silently rowing. Jarmu, sensible of the caution and wish for surprise, does not speak, only points. This way, towards the cliffs. To the left, further along. To this particular opening. Then he holds up his hand, palm flat and fingers splayed. The boat stops, the light already dimmer inside the cave. Rilian sits, listening to the soft noises of waves on the hull.

Jarmu jumps out of the boat. He lands in water up to his knees, and begins pulling the boat towards shore. Behind Rilian he can hear the strikes of flint as the soldiers light the lanterns; Rilian and Piram both jump out of the boat and help Jarmu bring it to shore.

Rilian wants to be first on the ground, so the Captain cannot order the soldiers to keep him in the boat.

The other boats begin floating in, the lantern lights reflecting on the water, and the water splashing softly against the sterns. There's the slight scrape of them being brought aground, just before the Captain lands on shore. He heads first to the boys. "You stay here," he whispers, tone still stern. "Do not go farther in. If something comes rushing out, stay hidden, even if it takes or destroys the boats. Do not engage it. Do you understand?"

They nod, and Rilian shifts from one foot to another, wanting to get going, though he has no lantern. The Captain takes a moment more to whisper orders to one soldier to stay with the boys, then turns as Jarmu whispers about hiding spots. He looks at Rilian.

"I am going."

"Sire—"

"There is no time to waste. I am going, and I will go first."

"No."

Rilian turns and is gone before the Captain can argue anymore. He hears a soft curse, then the quiet footsteps of many soldiers, but the King is already ducking through the cave.

There are three passages branching off at various points as Rilian walks forward, but they're small or shallow, and he keeps to the main one, hoping. It is not long before all the dawn light is lost, and only the lanterns behind him light the way, his shadow stretching in front of him like a monster springing from his feet.

The scent is terribly, achingly familiar, but the light is not blue, and Rilian is not the one in danger, so he shuts off the part of his mind that is screaming. He focuses instead on where he puts each foot, and what he can see in the darkness ahead.

He freezes when one of the soldiers behind him stumbles and a rock bounces off the wall of the cave.

"Who's there?" demands a hoarse, familiar voice. "If that's you back again, leave her alone!"

Rilian turns, grabs a lantern, and runs in. It's Drinian, and he sounds alone—Rilian's feet splash into water, and he lifts the lantern higher, trying to pierce the empty darkness that goes up and up.

Drinian sits on the ground, leaning against the left wall. His clothing is wet, and the bottom of his white beard, but not his face or his hair; there are puddles all over the floor. A single chain runs from the wall to his wrist. He has his other hand in front of his eyes, shielding them from the light, Rilian realises.

"Drinian," the King says, the word coming out choked. "Drinian!"

Drinian's hand falls from his face even as more soldiers spill in, as more light reveals the large room. "Up there, my King! Go free her!" Drinian snaps, heaving himself to his feet with his chained hand and pointing with the other. Rilian follows the finger to a cliff of rock higher than his head, alongside the far wall. He can see two silver chains descending into the top of it, one on each side.

He drops the lantern and runs. His feet splash through the puddles, and he can hear others making the same noise behind him, but he reaches the rock first. It's steep, and he can't jump it, though he tries. "The starboard side!" calls Drinian, accompanied by the sound of metal clinking, and a part of Rilian's mind realises the soldiers are freeing him. The rest of Rilian is already running.

The rock is spaced like uneven stairs on the left side, where the water has worn away parts of the cliff. Rilian runs up them, the "stairs" becoming steeper as the reach of the water grows less.

Ileana lays half-submerged in a pool at the top. She's facedown on the rock, her arms outstretched by the chains, her golden hair unmoving. There are two terrible burn marks, blistered and red, on one arm.

Fire to wring tears from a water creature, Rilian thinks, and nearly hurls. But he can't, she needs help. Her wrists are wrapped in chains, and so, Rilian sees, is the part of her tail right above the fins. But the thing Rilian notices most is how still she is.

"Ileana?" He reaches down and sees with surprise that his hand is shaking. He tries to keep it gentle, keep it steady, as he touches her scaled shoulder. Two of the scales flake off her skin at his gentle touch; the rest are dry beneath his fingers.

He shakes her. Her head flops on the rock, but she doesn't wake.

"Get her out of these chains!" he roars to the people who followed him. Faun hands reach for one metal bracelet, and human hands reach for the other. He gathers up her head and hair, slips an arm under her shoulders, and lifts her off the rock. A moment to slide his feet and legs in the pool, and then he pillows her on his lap. He strokes her hair out of her face, holds his hand in front of her mouth—and he can't feel her breathing.

"No." It's a whisper, a whisper he barely recognises. "No, Ileana, please—"

She can't be.*

Metal clangs beside him, making him flinch. The Captain got one chain off.

There're footsteps, too, but Rilian doesn't want to look away from her face, sideways on his lap. He gathers her limp arm closer.

"Put her in the water," Drinian croaks. Rilian flinches, looks up, and his counsellor is standing on the rock, a cloak wrapped around his shoulders, leaning on a soldier. "He said it heals their wounds, if they're put in the water."

"She's not breathing," Rilian says, begging, explaining, asking—

"She's breathing through her tail. Put her in the water!"

Rilian slips into the pool, still cradling her, and hears the soldiers working on her other chain slip down as well. He lets her into the water, slowly—he knows she's a Mermaid, but she's been on land so long, a part of him doesn't want to put her face under the water, doesn't want to see her drown—but he puts her under, dragging the burned arm with him. He holds her there.

The burns disappear. He runs fingers up her arm, under the water, and he can feel nothing. He looks down at her blurred face, floating peacefully, and breathes a little easier.

"Who said that?"

"That sea serpent squid of an Ambassador."

Rilian's head jerks up. "But—he wasn't here."

Drinian sighs, and lowers himself to the floor with the help of the soldier. "He came at night; coming in right before high tide, and keeping himself up here with her—making her cry. He told her, that first night, that he could hurt her as much as he wanted; wounds given on land heal when a Mermaid is submerged."

Rilian held her a little more tightly. "How much—did he hurt her?"

"Not much. Just the two burns." Drinian shakes his head. "He had other means to make her cry."

"Your Majesty," a sailor says in a stunned tone. Rilian turns his head; he's looking in a barrel Rilian hadn't noticed, set against the cave wall. "It's—it's a third full of pearls."

"Take it with us," Rilian orders sharply. Whatever was done to her, the pearls are Ileana's, and Rilian will not leave them for a greedy explorer to find. They belong to her. He looks back down at her, to check her arm one more time—and he gasps. Her eyes are open.

Rilian lifts her up, trying to be quick, then reminding himself to be gentle with her dry scales.

"Rilian?" Her voice is barely a sound, softer than the touch of the tiniest wave.

"Ileana. I'm here—you're safe. You're safe." Her other chain finally opens, and her arm falls to her side, in the water.

She lifts it, dripping, slowly, the marks of the chain still on this wrist, though not the other. She doesn't seem to notice. She touches Rilian's face, and her fingers are colder than seaweed in winter water. Just the tips of her fingers run down his cheek. "I'm sorry," she says in that same small voice. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry—" Another tear trips from the corner of her eye, running into her hair, becoming white and hard.

"Hush, hush, it is well."

"You're—you are here?"

"Yes. By the Lion I swear, I am here. You're safe, Ileana."

"Get to work on her tail," Drinian's rough voice orders, and the Captain splashes into the pool. Ileana's face turns towards Drinian's voice, not seeming to notice the Captain bending and lifting her tail, or following the chain to the metal ball at the bottom.

"Drinian?"

"Here, Lady."

"You're not hurt?"

"Nothing a warm bath and a meal of something other than raw fish won't make better. Stop worrying, little Mermaid."

Ileana slowly looks to Rilian, who can feel his own eyes beginning to tear up. She seems so lost, so out of it. But she looks at him and asks, "Peri?"

"Safe at the castle," he tells her gently.

"Good," she says, and her eyes close. Rilian holds her closer, moving a hand to her mouth before remembering she doesn't breathe that way right now.

"What's wrong with her?" he asks, turning to Drinian.

Drinian shakes his head. "She hasn't eaten since we got here."

"Why?"

"The fool Ambassador found a few tips in some of our books, and knew some things from his own extended family—he's not Calormene, he's Galman. Wanted a bit of the family's lost glory and wealth back, so he went to Calormen and toadied his way up the mast. The Tisroc agreed to test him; sent him here. When the squid failed at that, he thought he could earn himself a fortune, since he found a genuine Mermaid. The family still had legends—but not enough to know what to feed her. And she's got some fool oath, that she won't tell anything about her people, not even if it means her life."

She feels suddenly lighter, and the Captain straightens up. "She's free, Sire."

"We take her home," Rilian orders. "And have four soldiers dispatched to arrest the Galman imposter immediately."

"Wait," Drinian orders, and Rilian pauses. The old man takes off his cloak and tosses it in the water. "Wrap her in that before taking her out of the water."

Rilian looks at it in confusion for a moment, then at the Mermaid in his arms, and realises—she's just wearing scales. "Can she take a transformation right now?" he asks Drinian.

"I don't know. But leaving her here won't do any good. We've got to get her somewhere, and in some form where she can eat something."

Rilian holds her with one hand and picks up the wet cloak with the other. The nearest soldier, a Dwarf, silently helps him hold her as they wrap her completely. Then Rilian takes a deep breath.

"Aslan, let this work," he mutters, and places her gently on land, leaving his arms under her.

He can feel her shifting. He can feel the tail separating into two legs; he can feel her knees. She chokes, and he heaves himself up and beside her, hands going to her face, ready to lift her up, force air into her lungs, something—but she's already taking gasping breaths. The sound is rough, desperate, and Rilian sees that it hurts, but somehow she's not crying.

She hadn't cried that first day either, when her new feet winced on land.

Rilian picks her up and leans her against him, one arm around her shoulders, one around her waist, and she breathes a little more easily. He lays his head on hers. "It's okay," he murmurs to her. "It's okay. You're just changing back. You're leaving this place, and coming on land again."

She curls up into him, head buried in his shoulder, and he thinks maybe she hears him. He fumbles to pick her up, to stand up himself, and there's hands on his arms, helping him to his feet.

"Lanterns," the Captain orders sharply, and Rilian can hear the splashes behind him as the Captain climbs out. The soldiers below begin making their way to the exit, their lanterns bobbing across the cave and reflecting in the puddles. Rilian is careful as he goes down the steps, Ileana still in his arms, and he glances back to make sure Drinian has help.

He has them both. She's in his arms, Drinian is behind him—when he gets them both home, he'll be thanking Aslan.

The walk to the boats feels long, Ileana heavy and wet in his arms. Drinian growls and grumbles behind him, a sweet relief Rilian hadn't known he needed, but Ileana stays very still. She does not open her eyes, not even when Jarmu and Piram shout her name.

"She is weak," Rilian tells them. He does not mind their adoration now, nor their worry; she is so easy to love, and right now he feels like she's so easy to lose. So he holds still a moment, so they can see her face beneath the folds of the cloak. "We're taking her back." One of the soldiers gets into the boat first, and holds out his arms. Rilian feels strangely reluctant to let her go, but he cannot get in the boat while holding her, so he surrenders her to the careful, waiting arms. Then he jumps aboard.

"No, no, you'd have to row, and soldiers do that better. Into the next boat," he hears Drinian behind him, and glances back as he takes Ileana. Jarmu stands scowling, his cousin next to him. But Piram nods, steering his cousin towards the second boat. Drinian takes another look at his king and the Mermaid before heading for the third. Rilian sits, swings Ilena's feet up onto the bench, and gently nudges her head onto his shoulder. Her hair is wet against his arm.

They are going home.

The soldiers board, sit to row, and they are moving, lanterns still lit. But Rilian can see the golden light of the sun, already an hour up, and he tightens his hold on Ileana. He is taking her back to the light.

She doesn't stir when the sun's rays hit her face. Rilian closes his eyes too, trying to feel the warmth with her, to share it. He feels the moment they leave the caves, when the sea breeze hits his skin, and the smell becomes stronger, fresher.

And he feels Ileana move.

He opens his eyes, and her eyes are on the sea. She begins to move, fighting to sit up, and he lets her. He takes his arm from beneath her legs but keeps the one behind her shoulders. She moves to the edge of the boat—and dives.

Rilian stares blankly, shocked. His hands are suddenly empty. He can't see her, she's already gone, he can just see the cloak, floating in the water. He reaches out, trancelike, and picks it up. She isn't underneath. She's gone.

He folds the cloak mechanically, though it's running water all over the boat.

"Sire?"

"She's gone," he tells them, his lips numb. And he thinks maybe it's better for her, she was supposed to go back to the sea—

Just not yet. Not—not till he got her home safe.

But if she's in the sea, she's healed. She's probably safe. She's probably—better there—

Rilian can feel his eyes burning, and it feels like he's lost the only freedom his heart knew. He knows that's not quite true; he has Drinian, he has the Captain, Guhen, Fourlegs, so many Narnians. But none of them are her, and his heart aches.

"Row for Cair," he says dully. He keeps his eyes on the water, though—maybe, just maybe, she'll come back to say goodbye?

Maybe he'll get to see her with her eyes open, aware. Maybe—maybe that will be enough. Enough to be glad she chose what was best.

He doesn't see her as they row home. The boats are beached, and the soldiers getting out, and Rilian still sits there. He doesn't want to leave. He tells himself he can come back, this evening, after he's made sure Drinian is fine; he can try to find her again. And she might be rested and fed by then, and—

There's a splash and a yelp behind him, and he looks, indifferent.

Ileana is leaning on the boat, arms resting on its sides, scales covering her shoulders. Her eyes are fixed on him. He's turned around, rocking the boat, before he remembers moving, and then he's kneeling beside her, above her, reaching one trembling hand to touch her arm.

She pats his hand. "It's all right—isn't it?"

"I thought you went back to the sea," Rilian gasps. He can tell the moment she understands, as her face darkness into sadness.

"I was hungry, and I wanted to heal my wrist," she explains. There's a pause. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking clearly—I was very, very hungry."

"It's all right," Rilian reassures, and breaks into a half-smile to hear her words in his mouth. How often have those words been said today?

She smiles with him. "May I have the cloak back?"

Rilian grabs it, throws the wet fabric around her shoulders. She clutches it with one hand, holding it tight, and walks towards the beach. Rilian jumps in the water beside her, one arm going around her shoulders, ready to catch her if she stumbles or struggles to breathe. She slows as she gets closer to land, and he can tell when she's ready to stand. But she keeps her breathing even, and the change goes more smoothly when she's awake.

She walks out of the water. He can see her feet, white against the sand, and it makes him feel like crying, though he couldn't say why.

Till she winces. "I miss my shoes," she tells him, low-voiced. "Of all the things he took, that's what I'll miss the most. They were the shoes you got me."

"Perhaps we can recover them." Rilian already has one arm around her, but he puts his other hand under her elbow. "What did he do with them?"

Ileana is silent for a moment. "Burned them." He can feel a small shudder run through her, and he doesn't ask more.

But he does look back at the sea. The sea that just fed her, healed her wrist, offered her safety—the place that had been her home. He looks down at her bravely wincing her way across the beach, and he wonders if it still should be. But he also knows it's not wise to ask those things now, when she's still so raw, so he picks her up instead, the wet cloak leaking all over his arms, and her, there safe.

Soon he sends a Bird to Cair, because much as he wants to carry Ileana up to the Cair in his own arms and save her every wince, he knows he's not strong enough to take her through the forest path and up the hill. Soon after a Centaur comes down the path, followed by eight Dwarfs carrying a chair on four poles.

The Centaur bows, first to Rilian and then to Ileana. "May I carry you, lady?"

Ileana hesitates. Rilian looks, waiting for her answer, and sees the fear in her eyes that she's trying not to show.

She glances at him and he nods. "I will stay closeby."

She still hesitates, and a cranky and hoarse voice behind them says, "That chair had better not be for me."

"I thought it would be useful for getting you up the hill," Rilian says without looking back.

"I'm hale enough to make it on my own."

"Up the hill perhaps, but not into the Cair; you'd collapse at the top." Ileana's fear disappears, just a little, at the banter between king and councillor, so Rilian continues, "Surely you're not too proud to accept the help of others?" It's a line Drinian fed him many times early in his reign, and Rilian knows it makes a hit.

"Why eight Dwarfs?" Drinian mutters instead.

"Because they've missed your similar, grumpy personality, of course." Rilian sees Drinian hobble past out of the corner of his eye, but he continues looking at the Mermaid. "Will you accept help as well?"

She looks back at the Centaur, majestic and patient. "Thank you," she says to him, and he lifts her in gentle, enormous hands, cradling her like a father with an eight year old.

"I am coming beside you," Rilian says, but Ileana reaches out. The Centaur takes a large step forward and Ileana's hand brushes his arm.

"Go find the Ambassador," she says instead. "That is the duty of the King. Go make this wonderful land a little safer; keep the shadows from it."

Rilian covers her hand with his own. "Go eat, and rest. I will come by as soon as I can," he promises. That wins a smile from her, a smile that takes away just a little bit more of the fear.


The Ambassador is gone. There're still search parties out looking for him, the soldier explains, but he left an hour after the rescue party set out. Rilian holds back the curses till he's alone, till he's in a little tiny room, and then he lets it all out, the anger and words and yells. He punches the stone wall again and again, not caring about the pain, because there are shadows in Ileana's eyes and he can't do anything, not even justice, to the person who put them there.

When he finally quiets, breathing ragged, he realises not all of the moisture on his face is sweat. He wipes it off, picks up the two chairs he kicked over—and grumbles a bit about cleaning up his own mess. He knows it's just, but it seems so self-defeating, if he makes a mess and then has to clean it up himself.

But it makes him feel a little more sane. He washes his face, sets aside his armour, assigns permanent guards for Ileana and Drinian, heads to the kitchen and asks for a lunch for three people, and then goes to the infirmary, basket in hand.

Ileana is sleeping. He can see that from the doorway. He stares at her, taking it in, her just being here, with her head to the side, golden hair already combed straight. Her eyes are closed.

Rilian looks three beds over, and Drinian is looking back at him. Rilian heads in his direction, stopping for just a moment at Ileana's. He wants to touch her, pat her head, or maybe her hand. But sleep is healing, so he doesn't.

He sits down on Drinian's bed.

"I don't need to be in the infirmary." Rilian smiles and says nothing. "What I need is the deck of a ship. That's it. I need to roll with the rise of the waves, and see the blue sky and nothing but water. Not be locked in here with a soft bed and nothing to do."

"Didn't you get enough of water these past four days?"

Drinian pauses. "Not really, though I won't be taking any baths for a while." He glances at Ileana's bed and lowers his voice to his quietest whisper. "I had enough of her screams, though."

Rilian also turns to see her. She looks so peaceful, so safe and quiet and restful, but Rilian wonders, with an ache in his heart, what she's dreaming about. "Tell me," he commands Drinian quietly, and Drinian blows out a breath.

"Neither of us remember getting to that cave. I didn't even know where it was, not till I came out." He shakes his head. "Right near the Cair, and I didn't know it. I woke up with those two chains on my wrists, and everything around me completely black. I thought at first I was still in that silly suit of armour, hiding from the chase, and maybe I'd dozed off. But chains feel different. I tugged on them, hearing the clink of metal, and next thing, I could hear Ileana's voice, asking who was there." Drinian's hand clenches his blanket into a bunch above his knee. "Of course, it was exactly like what the sailors and cooks said. I'm betting I put my wrists in those chains myself. So when we finally see the light of a torch, I brace myself, thinking it'll be some magician or enchantress. But it's the Calormene—Galman—squid. He walks right by me, ignoring everything I say, and heads straight for Ileana. I'd told Ileana about the sailors and cooks, and she told me she was chained, too, somewhere too far for me to touch, I could tell by the sound. But now I could see her, the top half of her, on that rock. The squid goes up to her and tells her, 'Cry for me.' And she just freezes. She doesn't move, doesn't speak, just looks at him. And that's when—he gave her the two burn marks on her arm. He told her, after the first one, that he could hurt her and hurt her, and dunk her under the water to heal her, just to do it again. That she'd better give in." Drinian looks right at Rilian, all the fierceness Rilian has always known in that glare. "Did you get him?"

Rilian's own hands clench. "No. He was gone before we got back."

Drinian lets out his curse. "We've got to find him."

"Working on it," Rilian says shortly.

Drinian lets himself lean back against the pillows, closing his eyes for a moment. "It's not your fault. Forgive me, Your Majesty." He opens them again. "She'll need protecting, though. Are you going to ask her to stay?"

"I'm not sure I should. She might be safer in the sea."

Drinian raises one eyebrow. "Or she might not. I doubt the squid is giving up looking for Mermaids. She's as safe here as she is there, if we take steps. And she'd make a great queen." His tone is half serious, half jesting. Rilian can't look at him.

"Why would you say that?"

Drinian pushes himself up. "You've seen her with people. You've seen her grace and her wisdom. Well, over the last few days, I saw her heart."

Rilian gets up and paces across the aisle, between the two other beds, and back again. "Is that why you trust her? Because you two were prisoners together? You bonded when you were both in chains?"

"Would that matter?"

"Yes! Because I trust now, but that's only because I've been missing her so much, because I've been so afraid. I can't bear the thought of losing her, unless it's for her own good. I can't let this be an emotional decision, Drinian. I'm the King. And if your decision is also an emotional one—"

"Do you know how he got her to cry?" Drinian interrupts. "He held the flame to her arm. She screamed—I can still hear it—but she didn't cry. She didn't cry when he tried it again. And he brought the flame close to her face, and she still just stared at him." Drinian takes a deep breath. "And then he took her shoes. He took her shoes and sat there for what seemed like an endless time, telling her all the plans Calormen has for Narnia, and, specifically, for its King. He sat there in the dark, with her helpless in chains, and made her believe it. He touched the flame to the shoes, and told her you'd die the same way, flames licking your skin—and he caught her tears when she cried. He'd bring something from your bedroom and cut it to pieces, telling her they'd do the same. I swear, I tried to choke him every time he walked by." Drinian takes a deep breath, deliberately slowing his words. "You're her world; she's given you all her heart. You're the only thing that can make her cry, at least that I've seen. She seeks the stars the same way you do, the way I seek the sea. I'd trust her with your life, now. And she already has your heart."

Rilian spins, paces, and stops just before her bed. She looks—like the magic he used to believe in, the one that made everything well; like the magic in the song of the stars, like the juice of the fireflowers of the sun.

She looks like a light that could so easily be put out.

"Think on what she loves," Drinian says behind him. "What a person loves shows what's in his heart. Just like you love Narnia, and Aslan, and the stars. You can trust her love, too."

Rilian turns away, walks back to Drinian, then back to Ileana. "I trust her too," he admits, voice low. "But—Drinian, how do I trust myself?"

"Eh?"

Rilian spins again, quick strides going to the old man's bed. "I gave her my heart," and the words are fierce. "I know I did. But how do I trust something that already betrayed me once? Ten years a slave to my mother's killer—yes, I love her. I trust her; I realised that, after she was gone. She takes all the things I fear—beauty, magic, and the chance of love—and makes them new for me. But I do not trust myself. Better, perhaps, for her, for me, if she goes back to the sea. If I do not have to trust my own heart. And if she is safer there."

Drinian scoffs, and Rilian winces. His councillor is ever honest, but this rips Rilian open raw, and he is not sure he is ready to hear the sea captain's response.

Only Drinian must see that, because he mutters something under his breath and takes a moment to think. "Sit down," he says finally. "And I mean it, my head is far too tired to go tracking you all over this space. Sit and listen." Rilian picks up a pillow on his way back, and as Drinian speaks he fiddles with the corners. This feels a little like his childhood, when Drinian would scold and teach, but it feels much more like a path that could go either way, to a future Rilian doesn't want to live, or a future Rilian can't trust.

"You've heard about Queen Lucy."

Rilian blinks, because this is not what he expected, and suddenly this feels a lot like his childhood. "Of course."

"I never met a Narnian less afraid. Remember that story we told you, about Nightmare Island?" Rilian nods, but holds in his shudder. He has tried not to think about that place since he lived his own nightmare. "We were panicking," Drinian says, almost to himself. "All of us, except that blasted—blessed—Mouse. Or so I thought. But I stood near the mast, and all of us were talking about the terrible things we see, or how we can't get out, and there's Queen Lucy up top, half the age of the lady there, and she doesn't say any of that. No, she stands there in the middle of nightmares and asks for the Lion's help. I stood at the bottom of the mast and heard her." Drinian puts his hands in his lap, staring down at his palms. "I asked myself for a good long time, why such a little girl had so little fear. And Reep, too. Caspian—your father joked once, that perhaps the smaller the person, the greater their bravery." Drinian half smiles, though it vanishes quickly. "But I don't think that's it. Not after spending four days in the dark. No, what Queen Lucy knew was how much she was loved. Reep, too, knew he was the Lion's. When you know how much the Lion loves you, it takes away all your fear." He looks at Rilian clutching the pillow. "I get that you can't trust your own heart—though I tend to trust it myself. But the Lion loves that same heart. And he'll love it in the future too."

Rilian hasn't seen Aslan, but his father had. As a prince Rilian had begged for stories over and over again. And the Lion—when Rilian trusted his heart the last time, the Lion sent people to save him from it.

Perhaps—perhaps Rilian can trust the love of the Lion.

"What heart?" asks a fuzzy, beautiful voice from a bit farther down, and Rilian turns and drops his pillow. Ileana is sitting up. He runs over to her, helping her. "What heart?" she asks again.

"Nothing," Rilian soothes. "How are you feeling? Do you need anything?"

"Food," Ileana suggests wearily. "And probably more sleep."

"Sure, he asks her what she needs," comes a grumble from behind them, and a corner of Ileana's mouth tugs upward.

"I brought lunch," Rilian tells them both, and sets about unpacking it. "Have a plate," he says to Ileana with a smile. It's filled with her favourite foods; the kitchens have missed her too.

"Where's mine?"

"Ladies first," Rilian says, an old saying from the first King that Narnia never forgot.

"Kings last," Drinian retorts back, and Rilian can see a smile deepening on Ileana's face, and blesses his old friend for playing along.

"Very well," Rilian says. "But that means I can save all the best food for last." He does, of course, because the kitchen sent Drinian's favourites and Rilian's, and Rilian's are definitely the better of those two. Much less fish. He sits on the floor, leaning against the end of a bed halfway between his two friends.

For the next few minutes all three mouths are busy eating. Then Ileana, in between two bites of a roll, in a tone striving to be light, asks, "Does this mean I won the bet?"

"The bet?" Rilian asks, confused, but Drinian growls.

"No, you most certainly did not. We were caught. You lost."

"Not by Cair Paravel's guards. You lost."

"We only bet we would, or would not, get caught."

"Both of us understood that meant getting caught by Cair Paravel's guards."

"But it wasn't said! Here, Your Majesty, you judge cases all the time—am I right, or is she?"

Rilian looks from one to the other, and shakes his head. "Since the bet did include someone saying something about 'running all over the Cair,' and since you most definitely did not stay in the Cair and we cannot predict what would have happened if you had, I declare the bet invalid." But quietly he ruminates that perhaps he should have had Drinian win, so that he could have heard Ileana's Merfolk story.

"I don't like that ruling." Drinian glares at his king.

"Neither do I."

"Then how are we to settle this?"

"We could say we both won, so neither of us have to tell stories, which is far too similar to abiding by his ruling—or we could both tell the promised stories."

Rilian sighs and sinks further onto the floor. He should have known better.

"Me first, then. So when Rilian was just a little lad, he had this habit of going out to hear the stars every night. If his mother wasn't busy, she took him, but if she wasn't there, he'd find a means of doing it on his own, no matter how many safeguards were put in place. This one time…"

Rilian listens to the stories, but more, he listens to the tones. He wonders if this, maybe, is Ileana and Drinian's gift to him; if they saw his own shadows, his own fears, and knows that just sitting here, listening to voices he wasn't sure he'd hear again—if they know how much that eases him.

He'll probably spend the night here, he realises. He'll probably spend every night here till they're able to leave.

And then he'll go back to his own, cold, solitary room. Joy.

"Are we going to discuss the island in the water?" Ileana asks, after her story of chasing her lost pet as a child finishes.

"The—an island? What, an extra bed?" Drinian asks.

"No, that's—sorry, it's a Merfolk saying. Sometimes when we're under the sea we're so wrapped up in currents, rivers, and coral growth that we don't talk about the islands that create them. It means, are we going to talk about the obvious thing no one has brought up yet?"

"Which is what, lady?" Rilian asks.

Ileana looks from him to Drinian and back again. "Should I not ask? The Ambassador, and whatever hunting shark he got, that gets sailors, cooks, captains, and Mermaids to do its will."

"We don't have the Ambassador," Drinian growls. "But we're getting you a guard."

"Then what about his shark? Guards won't be any help against that."

"His shark?" Rilian interjects.

"Whatever it is that makes us do what we do not remember," Ileana says impatiently.

"We don't know what that is. There's no trace—other than two scales, the smell, and the voice."

"Two scales?" asks Drinian, while Ileana asks, "Voice?"

"We found another scale, just like the other one, where you were taken. And Peri heard a voice. A strong, rotten voice, when the thing took you both."

"Where is Peri?"

"I sent her home, to be with family, till you were found, or we found word of you."

"So it's the same thing, for certain," Drinian says thoughtfully. "And it does seem to be a reptile of some large sort."

"A reptile and a squid," Rilian sighs. "Would it please you to become king, and take the whole mess off my hands?"

"No, but I'd be right glad to tell the Tisroc what I think of the Ambassador he sent."

Rilian gives a small chuckle, but he doesn't really mean it. He flips his fork between his fingers, looking at it and nothing else. "Should we talk about the other island in the room?" Not what he's going to do for Ileana, not yet, because it's too much to think about in one day, but the other question he needs to ask.

"What island is that?" It's Ileana, curious tone and kind voice, and Rilian's fingers want to tighten on the fork he's fiddling with.

"There is a very large chance you would be safer in the sea," he says carefully.

There's a silence.

"Wouldn't you?"

"Possibly. But I'm not going back." Her tone does not encourage further discussion, but Rilian pushes on.

"In the boat, when you were hungry and hurt, jumping into the sea—it's your first instinct."

"Then I came back."

"I know, and I am immensely grateful for that, truly."

"I will always come back."

"Should you?" He doesn't look up, because he can't ask this question while he's looking at her, while he's watching all he could lose. "Or should you stay there?" He struggles to ask. He got so close to losing her this time, maybe she should

He'll lose her either way, but one way she'd be alive.

"We're long past should," she tells him, and there's humour in her tone. He looks up and sees her flickering smile. "There's not should, or should not, anymore. There is only my choice."

Rilian gets up, walks to her bed, and takes her hand. He sinks to the floor beside her still holding it, and realises his own hands are trembling. He was ready to give her up, he had to be, but if Aslan has her future and his heart—

Maybe she can stay. Maybe this won't end in thirty days; maybe he'll find a way to keep her alive.

Maybe he'll learn how to love.

But what he hopes for, most of all, is that he will find a way to save her, and to make her choice good.


A/N: Sorry this took a bit longer; I was tasked with planting the 30 foot by 40 foot garden this week, and as you can guess, that took a bit of doing. I wrote this in snatched half hours.

Response to Guest: thank you for reviewing, and most definitely for enjoying! Here's more!