A/N: Yes, I know it's Tuesday—not one of the official posting days—but listen… I have over 40 chapters already written and the anxiety is winning, so here we are.

Thank you for reading so far! Next official update is still Wednesday, but hey—you've been warned. Surprise chapters may strike at any moment.

Your comments keep this world alive!

All rights to the world and characters of Narnia belong to C.S. Lewis and his estate.

Chapter 21: The Hunt Begins

Erasmus' voice cut through the council room, his usual calm edged with fury.

"The Shadow Escort sent word when they reached the dwarves," he said sharply. "Everything was clear." His golden eyes flickered between Peter and Edmund. "So tell me—what happened?"

A heavy silence.

Casio, standing at the edge of the war table, let out a low breath. "They were there before our company arrived. If they saw any sign of danger, they should have sent another message."

Peter's jaw clenched. "Then why didn't they?"

Erasmus' expression was cold. "Either they were already dead—or they lied to us."

The air grew thick with unspoken words.

Lucy shook her head. "No. It doesn't make sense." Her voice wavered, but only slightly. "The Shadow Escort is loyal. They wouldn't betray us."

Casio gave her a pointed look. "And yet, they didn't warn us. That either means incompetence—" his gaze darkened— "or treachery."

Erasmus sighed. "We all knew the dwarves weren't to be trusted. We should have never relied on them."

"We cannot judge an entire people by their past," Lucy countered, her voice firmer this time.

At that, Edmund tensed.

He knew exactly what Lucy was implying.

Peter's gaze flickered toward him, his jaw tightening. He didn't have to say anything—Edmund could feel the weight of his thoughts as if they were spoken aloud. We all know how dangerous it is to trust the wrong person.

Then—Casio's voice broke through the tension.

"And we also have to ask—how did young James end up there? If he was even among the company."

A heartbeat of silence.

Peter's hands curled into fists. "What else would he be? We searched everywhere."

Casio's dark gaze swept over them. "Then someone told him where and when to be."

Edmund's stomach twisted. James had no access to war councils. No clearance.

Which meant…

Someone close to them had told him.

Someone who knew exactly what they were doing.

Peter shook his head. "We'll deal with that later." His voice was controlled, but cold. "Right now, we ride. We get our people back."

The courtyard was alive with movement.

Armor clanked as soldiers adjusted their gear. Stable hands saddled the horses, tightening straps and checking hooves. Servants rushed back and forth, bringing provisions and filling waterskins. The air buzzed with low murmurs, everyone moving with tense urgency.

They were leaving within the hour.

Peter stood near the war table, discussing the route north with Erasmus and Casio. Edmund stood a little apart, rolling the tension out of his shoulders as he checked the buckles of his bracers.

He glanced around, eyes scanning the preparations.

Lucy was speaking with Calantha, their voices hushed.

Then—his gaze found Eleanor.

She was near the stables, speaking with one of the stable hands. The morning light caught in the strands of her dark hair, loose around her shoulders. She looked focused. Determined.

And Edmund knew.

She was coming.

He sighed, already knowing how this was going to go.

"You're not coming," he said flatly.

Eleanor stiffened but didn't turn. "I wasn't aware you made the decisions for me, your Majesty."

Edmund exhaled sharply. "This isn't about titles, Eleanor."

He took a step closer, lowering his voice. "This isn't your fight."

That got her attention. She turned, eyes flashing. "James is my brother."

Edmund's fingers curled into fists at his sides.

Damn it.

He knew.

Of course, he knew.

James was family to her. Just as Lucy was to him.

But still—

"You don't know what it's like," he said, quieter now. "Real battle. It's not just stories and strategies. It's—" He hesitated. "It's not something you come back from the same."

Eleanor held his gaze.

"Neither is losing someone you love."

Something in Edmund's chest twisted.

Her words had cut too deep, too fast.

He hadn't expected that.

He hadn't expected her to understand.

Before he could think, before he could stop himself—

He grabbed her arm.

Not hard. But firm.

"Eleanor," he said, voice low.

She froze.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then, slowly—she placed her hand over his.

And removed it.

Edmund exhaled sharply, stepping back as if burned.

Eleanor's voice was quiet—but unshakable.

"Whether you like it or not," she said over her shoulder, "I'm coming."

Peter stood near his warhorse, watching the last of the preparations.

The company was almost ready.

Edmund approached, grumbling. "She's coming."

Peter sighed, running a hand down his face.

But he didn't argue.

Across the courtyard, Eleanor was already mounting her horse. Lucy stood beside her, expression worried but supportive.

Then—

A familiar figure emerged from the castle steps.

Susan.

She walked toward them, her expression unreadable.

She didn't look at Peter. Didn't look at Edmund.

Instead—she looked at Eleanor.

And without a word, she grabbed the reins of a nearby horse.

Eleanor blinked in surprise. "You're coming?"

Susan exhaled, adjusting the gloves on her hands. "Of course, I am."

Edmund and Peter exchanged glances.

But neither of them questioned it.

Peter took a deep breath.

"We leave within the hour."