A/N: We've officially entered new chapter territory, and Chapter 17 kicks it off.

As always, your thoughts, reviews, and quiet reader gasps mean the world.

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

Chapter 17 - A Step into the Unknown

James' POV

The wooden practice sword had left blisters on my hands. I flexed my fingers, wincing at the raw skin. Training had been brutal these past few weeks, but today had pushed me to my limits.

Still, I couldn't deny it—I had wanted this.

I had watched King Edmund fight during the attack on Cair Paravel, seen the way he moved like the sword was an extension of himself. There was no hesitation, no wasted motion—just precision.

Now, after hours of sparring with him, I understood why.

He wasn't ruthless, but he was relentless. And when he wasn't fighting, it was like he was somewhere else entirely.

His shoulders were always tense, his thoughts distant—like he was locked in a battle inside his own head.

He reminded me of Eleanor.

I dragged myself toward the stables, hoping to clear my mind. Visiting the horses had become part of my daily routine, and lately, I'd had good company.

But when I stepped inside, something was different.

The usually quiet space was bustling with movement. Warriors saddled horses, stable hands secured supplies, soldiers adjusted their gear. There was a sense of urgency in the air.

I spotted Lucy near the far end, brushing the mare we had been watching over for weeks now. She was expecting, and we had been hoping to be there when the foal was born.

I leaned against the stall door. "What's going on?"

Lucy didn't look up. "They leave tomorrow."

Her voice was careful.

"A mission?" I asked.

She sighed, hesitating for just a fraction of a second. Then, finally, she shook her head. "I can't say, James. I'm sorry."

I tilted my head, watching her carefully. She wasn't lying, but she wasn't telling me everything either.

"Confidential business, huh?" I teased, trying to lighten the mood.

That got a small laugh out of her. She shook her head, her golden curls tumbling over her shoulder, hiding her face. I had the ridiculous urge to reach out and push them back.

"Your Majesty."

A voice interrupted. Bavra.

He dropped a bale of hay at our feet, and Lucy jumped slightly, her cheeks tinted pink.

"Hello, Bavra," she greeted, smoothing her dress.

Bavra's dark eyes lingered on her face, then slid to me. There was something in his look that I didn't like.

"Hey, Bavra," I said quickly, clapping him on the back—maybe a little too hard.

We made small talk about the mare, the weather. Lucy excused herself soon after, and I watched her go until Bavra let out a small humming sound.

"Impossible," he muttered. "She's a queen."

I didn't look at him. "We come from the same place."

"It will never happen," he hummed again.

"Never say never, my faun friend." I smirked, clapping his back once more.

Bavra was easy to talk to. He had a way of knowing everything and hearing even more. But even as we spoke, I felt an unease settle in my chest.

"Are you going?" Bavra asked suddenly, nodding toward the warriors in the stable.

I shook my head.

His brows lifted slightly. Then, after a brief hesitation, he lowered his voice. "Strange. I thought for sure you'd be part of it."

I turned to him fully. "You know what this is about?"

Bavra let out an exaggerated laugh. "Oh no—no idea at all." His voice wavered slightly.

"Bavra."

He sighed dramatically and stepped closer, lowering his voice.

"North. That's all I know."

My stomach tightened.

"North for what?"

Bavra hesitated again. Then, muttering so softly I could barely hear him:

"Weapons. From the dwarves. We need them. So does Archenland."

I clenched my jaw.

"You didn't hear this from me," Bavra added quickly. "But it's dangerous—hostile territory, dangerous roads. It's going to take skill to get them back."

His eyes flickered toward me.

"You'd be good for it, you know," he said, carefully, almost too casual. "You trained with King Edmund. You've got the spirit for it."

I didn't answer.

"When do they leave?"

Bavra smiled—small, knowing.

"Sunrise." He patted my shoulder. "But hey—if Erasmus doesn't want to risk losing you, that's fair."

And just like that, he was gone.

I forced myself to sit through dinner.

I told myself I needed to keep up appearances. But really, I just wanted to hold onto this moment.

The hall was warm, the scent of roasted meat and fresh bread filling the space. A stark contrast to where I would be tomorrow.

Lucy spoke animatedly about the Moon Harvest, and Eleanor actually engaged in conversation. It was strange—seeing her so present.

"Do you know what plants are in it?" Eleanor asked, eyes bright with curiosity.

"No," Lucy admitted. "But I'd love for you to take a look. Maybe you'd recognize some."

"I'd love that," Eleanor said quietly, twisting her fingers in her lap.

Something about the way she said it caught my attention. Like she had finally found something worth chasing.

Across the table, Edmund was looking at her.

Not in an obvious way—just a brief glance, a flicker of something I couldn't quite place. Like he was listening closer than usual.

Eleanor must have felt it because she looked up, her expression unreadable.

For a fraction of a second, neither of them moved.

Then, Edmund dropped his gaze to his plate, reaching for his cup with a little too much care. Like he suddenly had to focus on something else.

I frowned. That was… new.

"And you, Edmund?" Eleanor asked suddenly. "What did you receive?"

The conversation stilled.

Edmund straightened slightly. "I… wasn't there."

He didn't elaborate. He didn't need to.

Eleanor studied him a second longer, as if she was debating whether to ask something else.

She didn't.

The conversation drifted on, but I wasn't paying attention anymore.

I looked across the table at Lucy.

She wasn't talking anymore, just watching Edmund and Eleanor with a small, knowing smile.

Not teasing, not smug. Just… pleased.

Like she was seeing something she had been waiting for.

The moment was so brief, so subtle, that I almost missed it.

Almost.

For the second time that night, I had the strange feeling that something was shifting.

I dressed carefully.

Dark boots. A white shirt. A vest. A hooded cloak. A fitted leather chest plate. Arm guards. A sword. A dagger.

I wasn't going to be reckless.

The halls were silent as I slipped toward the courtyard.

At the door, I paused.

Would they understand?

Would Eleanor?

I pulled my hood up.

And just like that, I stepped into line with the company.

And I was gone.