A/N: Everyone give a nice warm "thank you" to Camp NaNoWriMo to churning this chapter out sooner than I thought! I'm sure you're all very upset with me after last chapter, sooooo enjoy this one 😈
Chapter 82 Content Warnings: N/A
Chapter 82: have you noticed?
Addie
Of all the people to catch them! What a mess.
Addie grimaces and sits on the bedroom windowsill, plate of toast balanced on her knee. The glass panes cool her shoulder and a slight draught stirs her robe as she eats.
Mossmire's cooking is decent enough, but this morning, everything tastes like wet sand.
Addie abandons breakfast and stares out the window, where a rising sun struggles to break through the thick cloud cover. The city is dark for the hour, its citizens bundled in furs and thick coats against the falling snow. So far, Narnia's snow has been wetter and heavier than Ettinsmoor's powdery flakes - miserable to slog through when it melts.
She'd rather be on the moors.
Addie picks up another triangle of toast and bites, chewing slowly, forcing herself to eat. Another week, then she'll be back with Opheodra, and from there…
From there, home. As Opheodra's promised.
She just needs the rings. If she'd kept her mouth shut about them, she could've been home months ago. No searching, no pointless research. She would've met Opheodra, discovered their shared situation, and gotten them both home.
Instead, she's here, sneaking around to take back what's rightfully hers.
And last night, by her own foolishness, she burned one of her key options.
King Caspian never would've given her the rings outright, but the odds were decent that Lilliandil and Doctor Cornelius could talk him into allowing a small experiment. Just one, that was all she needed! A few minutes with the rings and she would've swiped them before the box went back to the vault and no one would've been the wiser.
There would've been no mess, no need for Hallgrim's cruder methods. They would've ridden out of the city free as larks before Christmas.
Instead, by a twist of misfortune, she recklessly, stupidly threw her disregard right in King Caspian's face.
If she'd known he was coming down that hall, she would've chosen a different distraction.
She could've stopped, pushed Hallgrim away, except -
As she watched King Caspian watch her, it wasn't hard to imagine him on his knees, his proud mouth finally silent, scowl abandoned in favour of her cunt.
Stupid, stupid girl!
She had Caspian exactly where she wanted him - pining, stung by her brusque manner, guilty enough to want to make up for his past callousness - not fuming at the sight of her with another man between her legs!
Addie's stomach twists again, an echo of its plummet last night - nerves, must've been nerves - as she glanced over and saw the king she apparently can't avoid. Gripping his dagger white-knuckle tight, he stood like a man in a dream (or nightmare - he looked a bit green) and just… watched.
Gods only know why she came, more from the fire-barb feeling of being seen than the northman's perfunctory mouth.
Seen by the King of Narnia. By her ex-lover.
Her heart stutters over a strange beat, hummingbird-fast and quivering as his name creeps into her mouth like the itch of a burned tongue.
Not this again!
Addie goes to her nightstand and picks up a green vial of tonic. Useful anytime her head starts to get muddled, Opheodra prescribed it twice daily just to be sure. It's not as pleasant as Opheodra's music and fragrant fires, but it's a satisfactory substitute.
A sip wrests her heartbeat into its normal lub-lub.
Addie leaves the vial on the stand as she tosses her robe over the dressing screen, exchanges her nightgown for a cotton shift, and dons a dark-green dress. Opheodra saw to her wardrobe months ago, commissioning a tasteful few linen and velvet dresses more suited to Ettinsmoor's cold.
Not servant's dresses.
"As befits one of your station," Opheodra said, as she tied Addie's stays herself. "If the king couldn't be bothered to see to it, I certainly will."
At the time, it sounded teasing. Now, Opheodra's sincerity warms her like hot stones in her bed.
She can't disappoint her.
Addie tightens her stays and refocuses on the problem at hand.
Her own short-sighted stupidity she now has to mitigate.
King Caspian's been using his kingdom's wellbeing as an excuse to keep the rings from her ever since the spring, but his concern for Narnia is just that - an excuse. He's also a jealous man. He was all too eager to quash any competition for her time or affection, whether perceived or actual.
Take his treatment of Marcos, for example. Caspian should've known that fool meant nothing but pain to her anymore, yet he was all too happy to start a duel on the How's training field.
Fools, both of them.
At least Marcos is locked away, rotting in the dungeon she sometimes passes on her errands to the underground archives.
Shaking free the image of Marcos sitting on a cot staring into nothing, Addie makes a short, French-style plait of her short hair - a trick Josie taught her - and leaves her room. On her way out, she pockets the tonic and stuffs the rest of her toast into her mouth.
There's no chance King Caspian will let her anywhere near the rings now. Experiments be damned, she just inflamed one of his worst vices. He could shut down all related research altogether out of spite.
She hoped she wouldn't have to steal them outright, but she can't get them the easy way now.
But she will get them, however much mess it takes.
The northman is already awake, leather armour groaning as he shoves on his boots by the front door. At her approach, he glances over his shoulder.
"You put on quite the show last night."
He just had to remind her.
Addie twists her grimace into a smirk and lifts an eyebrow. "You helped."
Her facade cracks almost instantly, her stomach souring. In the house's quiet, a headache sprouts in the base of her skull, a pang she can't quiet without Opheodra's tonic.
Addie takes out the vial and takes a long draught. It burns like liquid fire, but it leaves a pleasant vanilla-nut film on her tongue.
Hallgrim clomps closer, and she has to crane her neck to look into his face.
She liked him better on his knees.
"You alright?"
Addie lifts an eyebrow. "Never better. Now then, about the rings. After last night's performance, we'll have to steal them. There's no way I can get the king's blessing now."
Hallgrim nods as if he always expected the necessity. "I could've told you that. He looked ready to kill both of us."
"And here I thought you were otherwise occupied."
Hallgrim's gaze rakes over her like he's assessing a ragged-maned mare for sale. "It was your idea."
Yes, but she didn't think the King of Narnia would be their audience! Anyone else would've flushed and hurried away without a second glance.
But not Caspian.
He stared transfixed, even with that… that look on his face, like -
No!
Addie sniffs her tonic and wishes Opheodra had sent some incense powder, too.
King Caspian. More king than man, because the man means nothing to her. Opheodra freed her from him, from his lies and accusations and cruelties.
If she lets herself think of his stern face and dark eyes too long, something rattles in the back of her head, the depths of her chest, like a key in a rusted lock.
She sips the tonic.
The rattle quiets, an annoyance quickly subdued. Meaningless nostalgia quieted by a rush of clarity.
King Caspian didn't call the guards.
He didn't try to stop them. For a moment, it seemed he might, dagger in hand and hate in his gaze, but then he froze and did nothing but watch. His pinched brow seemed almost… studious, despite his otherwise wide-eyed affront.
Did he like watching?
Maybe King Caspian liked watching as much as she enjoyed being watched.
If that's true…
Addie's lips curl into a smile.
"Might've been one of my better ideas," Addie says.
Hallgrim crouches to tighten his boots, silent in that sceptical way of his. He only heeds her because Opheodra told him to.
She thinks of the prominent bulge she caught between King Caspian's legs.
"Suppose the king wasn't murderous with disgust," Addie begins. "Suppose he was murderous with jealousy."
The northman says nothing, but his hands pause on his laces.
Addie leans against the bannister. She'd know that feverish light in King Caspian's eyes anywhere. Not hatred, but lust.
I fear the king's obsession is not yet cured. He will keep you hostage in his kingdom for all your days if you do not act swiftly.
Caspian's supposedly courting that star, yet Lilliandil hasn't been seen in the capital since autumn.
There was a slight… misunderstanding, one I hope will soon be corrected.
What if Caspian and Lilliandil aren't courting?
Would the king act on his desires? He must still be afflicted with them - he won't stop bringing up their ill-fated dalliance, and last night, he watched her pleasure like he wanted to be the one doling it out.
Or like he wanted to punish her for having it without him.
In her silence, Hallgrim stands and towers over her.
"How does that help our mission?"
Addie grins, gleeful in a way she never would've been months ago, before Opheodra helped her see the truth of things.
She's been running from King Caspian for too long. It's time she danced with him.
"Easy," Addie says, resting her hands on the northman's chest. "I give him what he wants."
"Which is?"
It feels too good, wickedly good, to say it aloud.
She backs away and spins, arms wide as she bites back a giggle.
"Me."
The truth of it rings through her at once, clear as a country church bell, certain as her own name.
The king wants her. She is her own trump card. One she should've played from the beginning, rather than letting him trample her into the dirt of her own shame for leaving him.
What does she have to be ashamed of? She had every reason to leave, and she's been a goddamn saint from the day she set foot in Narnia!
And what has being good and meek gotten her?
It's gotten her here, stealing or manipulating her way to the rings that are hers by right.
She found them.
Cornelius took them, and King Caspian kept them.
The northman is chuckling. She's never heard him chuckle before. It sounds a little like a rock slide - deep and rumbling, dangerous if you stand too close.
"You think he'll give you the rings in exchange for a good tumble?"
Addie lifts her chin, ignoring the flush burning her cheeks. Hallgrim doesn't know how easily she once brought a king - well, a prince back then - to his knees.
"No," she allows. "But I can lower his guard. Get access to his chambers, his study, without him suspecting a thing. Don't forget we still need the vault key."
The northman shakes his head and takes his cloak from a hook by the door.
"Try if you like, though I doubt that king's a lust-addled fool."
Addie grins, slipping into confidence like a fur-lined cloak. If King Caspian's attachment survived last night's performance, there's little she can't make him do.
"But I can make him one."
Hallgrim follows her to the castle, hovering behind and slightly aside like a bodyguard. Yesterday, at the castle's tree decorating ceremony, the bridge guards halted the northman, eyeing his intimidating form until she made her official position known - Royal Researcher, directly employed by the Lord Chancellor. She's entitled to her own protection, and it wasn't difficult to play the part of an offended official. After that, the satyrs let them both pass.
Today, the satyrs are absent, and a pair of imposing centaurs in their place. The line to cross the bridge moves with the speed of King Caspian's compromises.
Slow at best, stagnant at they wait, Addie reviews her plans for the day. She'll continue exploring the castle's underbelly under the guise of archival errands, while Hallgrim continues noting the guard's patterns.
Currently, the most direct path to the vault skirts the dungeon. Unfortunate, but no hindrance; iron bars separate her from any danger.
Marcos included.
She should've asked Opheodra to erase those bad memories, too.
Addie squares her shoulders and ploughs ahead, shouldering through the slow-moving crowd of workers headed into the castle for the late-morning shifts.
Hallgrim will be with her. She'll be in no danger.
"Let the northman be your blade," Opheodra said with the moor's wind stirring her bronze-red waves. "You, Addie, shall be my hands. Yours is the delicate work that will spare lives and bring worlds before me."
If Opheodra wanted Hallgrim to kill his way to the rings and out of the city, she would've sent him alone.
But she didn't.
A powerful grip jerks her back against a wide, leathery torso.
"Easy," Hallgrim mumbles, breath stirring the baby hairs by her ear.
Addie swallows a huff and obliges, only to keep from drawing attention. She's supposed to be patient, careful, meticulous, and she is, but plodding along with the small crowd trickling up to the bridge when she could be in the castle testing her new theory is excruciating.
However, it might be too late to avoid attention. One centaur glances to the other and nods toward Hallgrim. The other's eyes narrow but neither moves from their post, seemingly content to wait for the flow of the crowd to bring Addie and Hallgrim to them.
A spark of nerves coil at the back of Addie's neck.
Was she too brazen last night? Did she make her and Hallgrim targets?
Nose stinging from the cold as snowflakes swirl on the breeze, Addie stays in line until she stands before the two guards.
Addie gives her name and position, same as always, and nods over her shoulder at Hallgrim. "And this is my bodyguard."
The taller centaur crosses his arms, bulging with muscle, while the other places another hand on the haft of his halberd.
"That one is banned from the castle, miss. By order of the King."
Addie grits her teeth, but keeps her expression cool. "And why is that? He's my protection."
The shorter centaur remains impassive. "You will require no protection inside the castle walls."
Apparently, they angered Caspian more than she thought.
Sighing, Addie glances over her shoulder and nods Hallgrim away. "Go back to the residence. I'll be safe enough on my own."
"Milady."
With a grunt and shallow bow, the northman retreats without argument, though his hand hovers near his sword.
Addie turns back to the centaurs. "And me?"
The centaur's hand falls from his weapon while the taller waves her through.
"You may enter as you please."
Addie thanks them and strides past.
It seems King Caspian needs to be appeased.
Caspian
By dawn's first light, he still hasn't slept.
Caspian skips breakfast in favour of the sparring field, though it brings no peace.
Her moans, her gasping mouth, her eyes meeting his -
Despite the snow, Caspian fights in duels and melees until the clash of ringing steel drowns out all else, until he shivers in the wind chilling his sweaty skin and the day's duties cannot be put off any longer.
He muddles through meetings and paperwork, his state of distraction shared by all he meets, though its source couldn't be more different. His people, his court, all his kingdom is anticipating the holiday while he hums and hems and haws trying to think of anything but her.
His Addie would never -
Enough!
He will not obsess over a ghost.
After a simple lunch he barely tastes, Swiftbeak flies into his study bearing news of Ettinsmoor. Lady Opheodra has seen no signs of pirates, but admits her focus has been solely on seeing to her people's needs. Many Ettinsmoor villages suffered structural damage in the earthquake, and a few dozen have died from exposure. Lady Opheodra directs his offer of aid to the southern villages, the most densely populated.
Caspian writes back in the affirmative, but he will wait until one of his spies returns from the northern lands to be sure. After Giants, werewolves, pirates, and the earthquake he needs more eyes on the moors.
Though Lord Stefano and Narnia's growing navy hunt them relentlessly, enough pirate ships remain at large to cause concern. Their cargo also makes no sense: flowers, poppy seeds, mushrooms, tiny bones, and slaves.
Unfortunately, all that can be done is being done; there is nothing he can do from the capital.
With a ragged sigh, Caspian stands from his desk and steps out into the hall. He's been too distracted today. A walk will do him good, away from all this paper and kingdom forever in need of tending.
He misses the sea, the freedom found sailing over ocean white-caps on the wings of a salt-sticky wind. The day he moves the capital to Cair Paravel will be one of his happiest. Another six years, and the sea will be his constant companion, a brief walk rather than days of travel away.
Not all his joys are behind him.
Just most of them.
Caspian grimaces and quickens his stride. Not even thirty, and already he sounds like a bitter old man.
He wanders the castle, finding nothing to appease his churning thoughts, and in his distraction, his feet betray him.
He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to massage away yet another whisper of unwelcome, hungry remembrances. When he opens them, the door to his old chambers is before him.
He sighs and rubs his eyes.
He has not set foot inside his princely rooms in years. Doctor Cornelius keeps the key.
Behind him, only the occasional servant bustles by, a quiet reprieve from the busier areas of the castle. This wing isn't used much.
This place is best forgotten; he will find nothing but longings he'd be a fool to indulge - especially after Addie's performance last night.
And yet…
The past holds his happiness, perhaps the most he will ever have.
Caspian wills himself to turn away. There is nothing for him here; it's locked, shrouded, dusty.
Then he notices the clean handle. Dust tips the short, decorative spikes covering the door, yet the iron handle is wiped bare.
By his order, none are to enter these rooms. Perhaps some new servant hasn't been told?
On a whim, Caspian tests it.
It clicks.
He pushes, and the door creaks open.
Caspian eases inside and leaves the door cracked, careful not to let it close. Muscles sore from sparring twinge as he investigates on stiff legs.
The air of his old room is dry, stale with neglect and a forgotten life. White sheets shroud his old wardrobe, the chest at the foot of the bed, his bookshelves, his falcon's perch, and all the curtains are drawn. The windowsills are bare of gilded trinkets and Telmarine figurines, dust their only covering.
The door to the study is open, and the room beyond is brighter with filtered sunlight.
He was very clear - no one is to enter these rooms.
Caspian strides into his old study, the door banging as he shoves it, only to pull up short.
White sheets drape over all the furniture save one bookshelf. The desk whose form was often hidden under his piles of schoolpapers and scrolls is half-exposed, the cover flipped up on the furthest corner. A short candle burns on the desk corner, illuminating the last person he wants to see.
Adelaine.
Caspian clenches fists at his side.
"These rooms are forbidden," he says coldly.
With a hum, Addie half-turns, continuing to peruse the half-empty bookshelf before her, its white sheet cover folded over her left arm.
"Why's that, I wonder?"
"Because I ordered it to be so." His voice strains with the effort of controlling himself.
He wants Addie to leave, to flush with shame, to apologise for intruding. He wants to throw her out of these rooms himself, send her skittering into the shadows where she cannot torment him.
Caspian grits his teeth, viciously ignoring the stutter in his heart. Addie's dressed in a simple servant's gown, hair plaited back, wayward wisps framing her pale cheeks. The candlelight glows on her skin, highlighting the last ghosts of fading summer freckles bridging her nose. If the sky outside was dark, it would almost feel like…
Caspian summons his composure, fickle thing that she's made of it.
"What are you doing in here?"
Addie's mouth quirks, not quite a grin, and she throws a glance over her shoulder.
"I was looking for a good book. Believe it or not, I've exhausted the castle library."
Caspian gestures at the sparsely populated shelves before her. "You'll find little here."
"So I've discovered." Her hand glides over an empty shelf. "You really just… sealed this place and abandoned it?"
He needn't dignify her observation with an answer. Addie can see he has, and she knows damn well why.
With a sigh that hitches close to a whine, Addie steps closer, the desk's length and a candle the only things between them, and pouts.
"Did you ban my bodyguard from the castle?"
In fact, he did, after interrogating the bridge guards to find out the identity of the mountain of a man between Addie's legs. If they want to spit in his face, they can do so outside his castle walls.
What need has she of a bodyguard? When did Addie become docile enough to accept personal protection hovering over her shoulder? The Addie he knew would've made a game of evading her guard.
Addie takes his puzzled silence as affirmation, her rosy lips twisting into a frown. "Why?"
As if she knows not!
"Public indecency," Caspian answers. Then, because she would've deserved it if he had: "I considered including you in that charge."
Her eyebrows jump, only to smooth.
"I'm grateful you didn't," Addie says, laying the bookshelf sheet over the desk chair's arm and tucking a hand behind her back. "Though I can't imagine I'm the first to be caught in a compromising position."
"It doesn't matter whether you were the first or the fiftieth."
Addie tilts her head and laughs - laughs, as if the whole thing is a joke. "Not everyone has a private bedchamber."
"There are dark corners aplenty in this castle," Caspian counters. Addie knows them well, and she didn't even bother to tuck herself into an alcove. "Or surely you could have imposed yourself at Lady Opheodra's residence, since she's been such a friend to you?"
With Lady Opheodra still in Ettinsmoor, Addie would've disturbed no one at her city house.
"I couldn't get there fast enough - all those festive crowds choking the streets." Addie leans forward and smirks. "You know how impatient I can be."
He does. Lion, he does.
Caspian exhales slowly, ignoring the heat in his blood.
"Some things are worth waiting for," he grits out.
"Oh?" Addie's gaze narrows, glinting like a freshly sharpened sword. "What things?"
Enough of this. By her own admission, Addie read all his letters. She knows what he means!
Caspian turns on his heel to leave, dust and candle-smoke scratching in his throat with every breath.
"If it matters to you, you were better."
He stops.
It doesn't matter. Addie finds her pleasure in another now, so therefore, her enjoyment of the act does not matter.
That's her lover's concern. Not his.
And yet, Caspian can't quite force himself to move, even as Addie's footsteps approach.
"At least, I think you were," she continues. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"
Caspian clenches his jaw against the traitor between his legs and keeps his back turned.
Addie touches his shoulder, hand caressing as she steps out from behind him. It takes all his patience not to throw it off, because the warmth of her touch will turn the rest of him traitorous, too.
Her voice floats into his ears, her lips close enough to kiss his neck.
"I didn't mean for you to see that."
Lion damn that softness in her voice!
Caspian closes his eyes, but Addie in the throes of pleasure assaults the darkness behind eyelids, and they fly open.
Addie's before him. Fresh cotton wafts into his nose, chased by a smoky, floral scent that traps a cough in his chest.
His gaze falls to her lips.
Plump, pink, parted in either mockery or invitation - he doesn't trust himself to recognise the difference.
Would she taste of toast and tea? Of snow and smoke?
Or of another man, of the bastard she's chosen over him?
Addie reaches up. Caspian catches her wrist, finds her skin cool and damp as if she just came in from the snow. His grip is too tight to find her pulse, but what would he feel if he was gentler?
Is her heart galloping like a war horse? Trilling like a birdsong? Or is it steady, unaffected, unyielding?
"You said nothing," he answers belatedly, careful to keep her from touching him. "I stood there, and you did not flee. Why?"
It is, after all, what she's best at.
Addie blinks up at him. He's wise enough to expect a lie, to anticipate the callous disregard Ettinsmoor has twisted her stubbornness into, and brace for it.
He's already seen her brought to ecstasy by another man's mouth; there is nothing she can say that will be worse than that.
And yet, when Addie confesses her answer like a daring secret, as if this room has rewound the years to when it was them against the world, he isn't ready.
"I… liked being watched," she whispers. "I liked you watching."
In the stretch of his incredulity, her cheeks pinken.
Caspian tightens his hold, scrutinising her face for signs of treachery and cruelty.
It can't be honesty, this edge in her gaze.
"Why?" he demands again.
Caught in the threshold between his former study and his bedroom, Addie draws closer, rising toward him on tiptoes.
Before he thinks to stop her, Addie presses her lips to his.
Caspian groans into her mouth, as instinctual as breathing, his pulse in his throat as he releases Addie's wrist and grips her waist.
This should be a new beginning. He should be soaring, thrilling at the taste of her honeyed tongue, his every breath crying finally, finally, do you know how much I've missed you.
It's not as he imagined it would be. It's wrong.
Addie's mouth is bitter, her tongue acrid. Her fingertips are cold on his cheek, her touch just… there. Matter-of-fact, as if she's rehearsing for a play. Addie's body does not mould to his and her arms don't encircle him no matter how tightly he wraps his arms around her. She stands stiffly, bracing herself against his chest rather than falling into it, and her sigh as he draws her tongue into his mouth is flat, hollow.
The kiss is probing without passion, exploratory without real enthusiasm. Rote as words practised to a mirror.
His Addie would be climbing into his arms, tugging his hair and grumbling if he slowed to suck on her lips. His Addie would have pushed him at the nearest wall by now, or backed herself toward the bed and pulled him with her. She would be greedy, impatient, insatiable.
This Addie kisses like she's a castle mouser cornering its dinner.
This is not his Addie.
Caspian pulls away. The stiffness between his legs throbs in protest, but it doesn't know any better.
He does.
Addie chases his lips, but he holds her at bay. Her frown isn't one of hurt - even more damning for its absence - only confusion.
"You don't want to?" she murmurs, and for a moment he imagines a flicker of green in her eyes. When he looks harder, he finds only hazel.
"Not like this," Caspian says. Not with this pale imitation of the woman he…
Addie straightens, her hand falling from his cheek.
"Like what?"
"Like you can barely stand it. Like you don't even want this."
Like you care nothing for me anymore.
"Of course I do," she says, her voice as emotionless as her eyes.
She doesn't, not the way his Addie did. That kiss held nothing of love so strong it became a need. His Addie kissed like every touch was the first and last, like she couldn't bear even the thought of being parted from him.
Again, she reaches for him.
Again, he stops her.
"Do you kiss him like that?" Caspian says, resting his hand at the base of her throat, surreptitiously feeling her pulse.
Addie's heartbeat is calm, her breathing even and unhurried.
Dispassionate.
"I haven't kissed him at all."
Caspian scoffs and pushes her back, relieved when she's out of immediate reach.
"I find that difficult to believe."
Addie arches an eyebrow. "Why would I lie?"
"Because you want something from me."
Addie's eyes widen a fraction. If her sudden attempt at seduction hadn't given it away, that flash of surprise would've.
But what does she want? Does she think a kiss that apathetic would change his mind about the rings? Or is this revenge for his courtship with Lilliandil?
It can't be the latter; Addie's made her disinterest in him plain in recent months.
What else is left, if not petty revenge or wanting the rings? Genuine desire?
He almost scoffs again. Addie's motions were stilted, forced. If he'd spread her legs and knelt before her, he didn't doubt he would've found her dry.
Addie does not want him.
Caspian lingers in the doorway awaiting an answer Addie doesn't give. Instead, she retreats into the bedroom, hips swaying with every step as she hones in on the canopied bed, a relic of their past shrouded in moth-eaten white.
From the first night they shared it, that bed was no longer his.
It was theirs.
Addie sweeps a hand along the curtains, the bare mattress peeking through.
"Have you taken the star to bed?" she asks.
Caspian gapes before shuttering his expression.
"That is not your business."
"Hmm." Addie inspects the curtain as if it was the one that spoke. "You haven't, have you?"
He makes no answer. The particulars of his failed relationship with Lilliandil are not her concern.
But bitterness loosens his tongue.
Caspian crosses his arms and leans against the doorway. "Have you lain with your guard?"
Addie's smirk is brief, but wolfish with victory.
"Not beyond what you saw," she says. She glances up, amused, only to refocus on his bed curtains as if they hold secrets more precious than a wagon of gold. "Do you want to know if I enjoyed it?"
Of course she enjoyed it. She climaxed while staring right at him.
Caspian swallows. He ought to say that by her own design, her pleasure is not his concern.
"Didn't you?"
Another grin, flashing teeth, stinging in a way his Addie's mischief never was.
"Like I said, I enjoyed you watching." She shrugs, insincerity staining her mouth. "And unless I miss my guess, you did, too."
Shame pricks the back of his neck, shame she should feel more than he!
"Don't be cruel, Addie," he says sharply, but the rebuke lacks bite as he twitches in his pants.
Addie's gaze flicks down, and the curtain flutters from her hands. When her eyes rake up to meet his, Caspian straightens to his full height.
She need never know the mess she made of him last night.
"Why have you returned?" he says.
Addie wraps an arm around the bed-post and rests her temple against it. "To enjoy the holiday. Weigh my options. After all, I have to settle somewhere."
Settle?
He is not such a fool to believe Addie's given up. Once she's set her mind to something, Addie never gives up.
Then again, that was his Addie. This Addie is different.
When he says nothing, Addie dips into a curtsy.
"Good day, Caspian."
He does not stop her as she leaves. Nor does he follow her.
Caspian lingers and breathes long, deep breaths, clearing his throat when the dust is too much. Slowly, the fire in his chest cools to embers, then to coals.
It is by Aslan's grace that he remembers to douse the candle Addie abandoned before it catches a sheet and sets the whole room ablaze.
Addie
That could have gone better.
Addie takes the darkest, quietest route through the castle, the better to avoid witnesses to her stewing. King Caspian's less a fool than she thought, fool though he is. She offered herself up on a silver platter, and he turned her aside!
She even kissed him.
She kissed the man, and that rattling won't stop! Two, three drinks of tonic don't beat it back. Finally, the fourth coats her mouth and wipes away the last traces of the king's metallic, steely taste, as potent as if she ran her tongue down a sword.
But she didn't have to fuck him. That's some mercy, though she would've set her teeth and done what needed doing.
Maybe she doesn't have the stomach for this. Can't she just break in and -
No. Without Hallgrim, she has to be even more crafty. Inside the castle, she's on her own.
She still needs the vault key.
It won't be as easily stolen as Doctor Cornelius' key to Caspian's old rooms. But where to look? The king's study might be more accessible than his bedroom; all she needs is a sensible excuse, one that'll ease his guard after today's setback.
Stubborn ass!
At least he didn't notice the burn scars. Caspian was so busy posturing and warring with himself that he never even glanced at her left hand, kept tucked behind her back.
As she weighs her options, the passage opens up into the courtyard. A fifteen-foot tree decorated with handmade ornaments towers over the cobblestones, constricting the paths of bustling servants and chattering courtiers. Here, everyone's enamoured with Christmas, though it's a relatively new holiday for the Telmarine population. An old Narnian traditions King Caspian brought back.
Addie skirts the edge of the courtyard, clinging to the shadows. She'd prefer a roaring Yuletide fire in Opheodra's manor with the Lady's music wrapped around her like a fur-lined cloak, her mouth full of spice cakes and orange tea.
"Addie! Tash's talons, where have you been?"
Addie whirls to find Lola jogging from the kitchen, a streak of soot above her eyebrow and her apron splattered with carrot peelings.
Lola stops short, hands on her hips instead of pulling Addie into a hug.
"Happy almost-Christmas," Addie says.
Lola ignores her.
"You haven't written in weeks, and you haven't visited either!" she snaps. "Cesare's been missing you terribly, you know."
It's… been a while since she's seen the boy. But she's been busy.
"I brought something for him," Addie says. "He still likes dragons, doesn't he?"
Lola scowls. "If you'd said hello, you'd know."
Well, either Cesare will like her sketch of Bairroas, or he won't.
Addie sighs and finds a crumb of contrition, if only because Lola knows nothing of the difficult errand she's here to complete, and it doesn't hurt to smooth things over.
"I'm sorry," she says, and tries to mean it. "I've just been… preoccupied."
"Well, get un-occupied and come to dinner."
"Tonight?"
"Yes, tonight!"
For God's sake. Lola's acting like…
Addie thinks back, but she doesn't know if she wrote advance letters to Lola in addition to the reports for King Caspian and Doctor Cornelius.
Maybe she didn't.
"Alright," Addie says. She can spare tonight; it's not as if she's eager to appreciate Mossmire's cooking or Hallgrim's stoic company. "I can come now, if you'd like. Doctor Cornelius let me off early."
Technically, he told her he had nothing for her to do at half-past eleven and she spent the rest of the morning plotting in Caspian's old study, but Lola doesn't need to know that.
Lola's shoulders soften. When Addie leans out of a trotting faun's way, Lola yanks her into a fierce hug.
"You're not allowed to disappear like that," Lola says, her voice thick. "I was afraid you'd…"
Oh, Lola.
Addie hugs her back, breathing in the familiar scent of yeast and roasted meat.
"I'm sorry."
Unfortunately, she can't promise not to disappear again. Opheodra insisted no one can know their plans, not even Lola.
"I understand you are fond of her, but she would stop you if she could," Opheodra said. "And you mustn't forget the king has spies everywhere."
Lola's grip tightens, squeezing the breath out of her.
"I don't care what you've been up to" Lola says, words muffled into Addie's shoulder. "You can tell me later. Right now, you're coming with me."
A lump tightens Addie's throat.
Nothing can change her mind about getting the rings and going home, but… she'll miss Lola.
And Alfonso, and Cesare. They've been bright spots in her otherwise troublesome time in Narnia.
"Alright," Addie murmurs.
This may be the last time she ever sees them. A few hours won't hurt.
"Auntie Addie!"
Cesare drops his stylus and launches himself at her the second Lola opens the front door. Addie staggers back as Cesare barrels into her legs, chubby arms grabbing at her waist, babbling too fast to understand.
"Hi, Cesare," Addie says, ruffling his tangle of curls. "Ease up, won't you?"
"Nuh uh!" Cesare clings harder and jumps, whining.
"Cesare…" Addie trails off with a sigh. Cesare won't quiet until he gets what he wants.
When she hoists him up, Cesare throws his arms around her neck, giving her little choice but to hug him back.
Meanwhile, Lola marches ahead and greets her husband with a chaste kiss, wholly unapologetic for her son's display.
"Like I said," she tosses over her shoulder. "Cesare missed you."
Grimacing, Addie pulls Cesare's arms from her neck and settles the boy on her hip. Clearly, she underestimated his attachment.
"Dinner's almost ready," says Alfonso, his arm around Lola. "Cesare, why don't you show Aunt Addie what you've been working on?"
Cesare beams up at her, fists tangled in her dress. "I kept it secret, just like you said, auntie!"
"Show me, then," Addie says, smiling through a pinch in her chest. "Quickly."
Cesare refuses to climb down and tangles fists in her hair when she tries to force him, so she sighs and carries him to the sketchbook he abandoned on the floor.
The drawings are… attempts. The best a four-year-old could manage.
Or is he five, now?
He drew scales, wings, a beak, and seven eyes on his sea serpent - his gift for his dad. For his mum, Cesare's drawn a dragon breathing clouds, not fire.
"Mama showed me shapes in the clouds," Cesare explains when she asks. "Dragons can breathe clouds too, can't they?"
Addie flips through his drawings and stretches her legs, disturbing Cesare's perch in her lap.
"Actually, they didn't. Just fire."
Cesare's forehead crinkles, his lip stuck out in a frown. "You don't like it?"
"I never said that." Addie resettles him on her thighs and gives him the sketches. "Your mama and papa will love them."
After dinner, Alfonso tucks Cesare into bed and Lola corrals Addie at the table with the promise of tea. Addie splashes tonic into her cup. The visit's been pleasant, but in the quiet moments between conversations, her head's started hurting.
Not rattling, thankfully. Just… aching. Pulsing like an infected burn.
Addie gulps her tea, greedy for the nutty aftertaste of her medicine, and answers Lola's questions blandly, explaining her weeks of silence as time travelling around Ettinsmoor helping Lady Opheodra. Lola grumbles, but seems to accept it.
"You'd better write next time," Lola mutters, swirling her cup. "I was worried."
She can't promise that. There's no post in Underland.
It might be worth writing a few weeks or months of letters to Lola, to ease the transition. One of Opheodra's servants at the manor can send them.
"Well, stop worrying," Addie says. "I'm here now, aren't I?"
Lola doesn't return her smile.
Addie softens her own and casts her gaze down.
"I wasn't just busy," she begins, barely above a whisper. "I've been a bit discouraged. About going back… well, you know where."
Lola sips her tea. "What do you mean?"
"I think you were right," Addie says. "About settling here."
Tea abandoned, Lola's eyes snap up and she leans forward. "What are you saying?"
Addie shrugs and traces the table's long grains. "I guess I'm saying I can see a home here, too."
A chair scrapes back, and in the next breath, Lola's arms are around her, momentum tipping Addie's chair.
Addie hugs her back. A few months of letters, and she'll finish with as truthful a goodbye as Opheodra allows.
And if any of the king's soldiers ask Lola about her, she'll have a tidy story for them.
"It's about time," Lola mutters. She breaks the hug to scoot her chair closer, then takes Addie's hands in hers.
Both of them.
Lola's beaming smile melts away as quickly as it came.
Addie tries to pull free, but Lola holds fast and pulls her left hand into the sputtering candlelight.
"Tash's shits, Addie. What happened?"
"It's nothing," she tries. "Looks worse than it was."
"What happened?"
Addie yanks her burn-scarred hand away and lies. Lola wouldn't understand the truth; no one but Opheodra can.
"The earthquake. I was in a hut, and it caught fire."
Face pinched, Lola inspects her hands, arms, feels her shoulders and face and neck. She'll find nothing else, thankfully.
"You've seen a healer?"
"The very best," Addie says. She takes Lola's hands and rubs circles into her palms. "I'm fine, really."
With a sniff, Lola dries her eyes and sits back. "Are you staying in the capital?"
God forbid; she'd never know a day of peace.
Addie shakes her head. "Ettinsmoor. Lady Opheodra's offered me a position."
"Not you, too." Lola slumps onto the table, hand in her hands. "Why does everyone want to go to those damned moors?"
Addie waits, awkwardly patting her shoulder. She found Ettinsmoor peaceful and exciting in equal measure, but werewolves ruined Lola's last visit.
After a moment, Lola straightens.
"Alfonso wants us to move there," she explains. "To be with his family. But after those wolves…"
"They're gone now," Addie says. "The Lady saw to that."
Yet when she imagines Lola and her family in the snowy north…
They'd be fine. Lola or Alfonso or both might even find a comfortable position at Opheodra's manor. It'd be a good life.
It's just that their lives are perfectly comfortable here.
"I like the moors," Addie continues. "But I understand if you don't."
"Of course I don't! Tash's sake, it's dangerous and cold and that village is tiny!" Lola drums on her teacup, scowling. "It's fine for visits, but I can't imagine going the rest of my life seeing the same twenty people every day."
Lola finishes her tea with a grimace and yawns, then lightly kicks Addie's chair.
"Why not Cair Paravel? There's a port town, and didn't you like the beach?"
Until King Caspian ruined her midnight explorations, the beach was lovely.
When Addie crinkles her nose, Lola lists every town and village from the capital to Archenland, even border towns in the Southern Mountains.
"Wildepeak's high in the mountains, plenty cold if that's what you like, and it's even farther away from him." Lola seizes her hands again, grip looser on her scarred fingers. "I'm sure you could make a living there."
Addie promises to consider it and thanks Lola for the ideas. If she really was trapped in Narnia, and if Opheodra hadn't been such a friend to her, she'd consider the south, if only to explore the kingdom before settling permanently.
But soon, very soon, she'll be home.
A/N: Hang in there for 6 more chapters! I promise there's a light at the end of this tunnel 😅 Chapter 83 will probably take about two and a half weeks since this weekend is full of real-life stuff. I'll keep y'all posted on insta.
Chapter 83 Preview:
"There's nothing to say. You know what I want, and you'll never -"
"Enough, Addie, let me speak. Listen for a few minutes, and that will be the end of it. But I must say this, and you must hear it."