Mist and Mystery at Calormen's Grove

The Wounded Queen

13. The Wounded Queen

Peter gazed about him at the faces of the king's advisers of political, military and social importance gathered around the long table. After his latest interaction with them in his delirium, the eldest Pevensie had since made amends and truly taken the time to learn about the people the new ruler of Narnia put his faith in. The Telmarine king had found himself a great blend of trusted people for his council; old and young, lords and soldiers, and not to mention a mouse (who was currently not attending) and a dwarf.

The meeting this morning was the first council since the young king had been stabbed, and so it had (as expected) begun with the highest advisers praising the lord's good health. The many long well-wishes reminded the Pevensie man of the old days, and as he glanced up at Caspian in the throne beside him, he could see the respectful mask begin to falter with fatigue. Peter glanced to the right side of the Telmarine, to Susan and Edmund who occupied those seats. Plainly, the younger Pevensie boy, too, was starting to get bored and managed to keep a straight face simply for his sister's sake. They both remembered the beratings they had sometimes received in the old days if they ever were less than respectful to any that stepped before the court.

Lucy was the only Pevensie not present today. Even as a young queen in their glory days had she found excuses to avoid tedious council meetings. In the past she had often spent the hours with the citizens instead, but upon this bright morning she had chosen to ride out with Reepicheep. The reason for her sudden decision had not been divulged, but with her protector and promise to not ride astray, Peter had reluctantly allowed her to slip from his watchful sight.

The eldest Pevensie focused his mind on the council as Lord Greagoir rose from his seat somewhat ceremoniously and gazed at the faces around him until his gaze found the king at the head of the table.

The old man inclined his head in a small bow before he stood tall and his bright eyes bore into the king. With a well-placed tongue, the man spoke, "Your highness, In honor of your return to full health once more, this council would wish to throw a banquet."

Peter noticed hos Caspian inconspicuously shifted in his seat and could guess exactly what was going through his friend's mind at the moment.

"A banquet...?" the king's thick accent slowly carried over the silence of the morning, like a man apprehensively approaching a danger on the road ahead. "Because I'm... not dead?"

Greagoir smiled warmly and opened his mouth to speak when lord Roshan on his right side interrupted. The Telmarine lord seemed more focused as he spoke in his darker voice, "Your close call with death, my king, reminded us all that you have yet to secure the throne, something that is much needed for the future of Narnia."

Caspian leaned forward in his seat and opened his mouth to retort when the elder, grey-haired man raised his hand in a calming notion. "Please," Greagoir pleaded and the king nodded his head for the man to continue. "Lord Roshan speaks a harsh reality, but reality nonetheless. For this reason, I wish to invite young ladies of Narnia and its allies, from whose graces you may choose a suitable queen."

"We mean you no disrespect," the Telmarine lord beside the elder man clarified with a softer tone than before, though his eyes remained steadfast on his king, "but if there is a threat hanging around your neck, and those of your friends, we consider it important to not delay your given word to this council. We need to repress the people's fear and make them see peace and prosperity on the near horizon."

The Telmarine king ran a hand across his jawline as he sighed deeply. It was plain to all in the room that he was considering the offer, but the struggle within was far from settled.