back, again | prince caspian

eleven

As Peter, Edmund, and I stepped out of the tomb, a tense silence wrapped around us like a heavy cloak, the crisp battlefield air carrying the metallic tang of steel and the distant shouts of Narnians preparing for combat. My stomach twisted with nerves, every heartbeat hammering like a drum against my ribs. The sword fight looming ahead felt almost tangible, a shadow hanging over us that no amount of courage could fully banish.

"Good luck, Peter," I murmured, my voice barely audible over the whispers of wind and the restless clatter of armor. He glanced back at me, a reassuring smile touching his lips, though it did little to quell the gnawing tension coiling in my chest.

Peter reached for the sword from Edmund with steady determination, his hands firm as he grasped the hilt. The Narnians erupted into cheers, a roar of hope and anticipation that surged through the battlefield like a wave. Pride swelled within me, but it quickly curdled into anxiety when my gaze fell upon Miraz. He stood a short distance away, smirking, every line of his posture screaming arrogance and cruel confidence.

"Just one of us may leave this field alive!" his voice cut through the clamor, dripping with haughty menace.

"Is that so? Perhaps you should remind yourself that I am not your average opponent," Peter shot back, his tone threaded with steel.

I stepped closer, my voice slicing through the charged air. "Better a boy with courage than a cowardly king hiding behind deceit and treachery! Your reign is built on fear, Miraz, and we both know how such empires end!"

Miraz's eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. "What do you know of ruling? You are nothing but an inconsequential girl in my kingdom!"

"If I'm so inconsequential," I retorted, standing taller, chest rising with defiance, "then why are your soldiers rallying behind Peter instead of you? You look desperate, King Miraz. It's... pathetic."

The vein in his temple throbbed visibly as his face contorted with rage, a low hiss vibrating through his teeth. "You are playing a dangerous game, girl. There are far worse fates than death waiting for those who cross me," he spat, the air around him tense with threat.

I lifted my chin, unflinching. "Is that so? How many more lies will you tell to cling to your crown? You fool no one!" My words cut through the charged air, landing like arrows at the feet of his ego.

Peter lunged suddenly, the clash of steel ringing with explosive force, reverberating across the battlefield. Sparks flew where the swords met, a shower of light and sound punctuating every strike. Peter moved with the grace and precision of a hawk, each parry and thrust calculated, deliberate, exposing Miraz's weaknesses with an almost predatory elegance.

Miraz snarled, launching a barrage of attacks that seemed to come from every angle at once. Peter dodged, each movement tight and controlled, muscles coiled like springs beneath his armor. Sweat glimmered along his brow, and I could see the sheer concentration etched into every line of his face, every twitch of his fingers as he maneuvered the blade.

The crowd of Narnians watched in rapt silence, breaths held, eyes darting between the two combatants, the tension so thick it felt like a living entity pressing down on my shoulders.

But then, a cold jolt of unease gripped me. Caspian was nowhere in sight. My chest tightened, and my pulse quickened as panic threatened to overtake my focus. Without thinking, I darted away from the fray, adrenaline surging, my boots pounding the dirt as I raced back toward the tomb, heart hammering. Anxiety clawed at me—where was he? What had he seen?

Every second stretched, the sounds of battle fading behind me as my eyes scanned the edges of the clearing, searching desperately for a glimpse of him. Shadows lengthened in the morning light, echoing the fear rising in my chest.