Will Briar begin a new era of witches, or will history repeat itself? Either way, Edmund won't be tricked twice. [set during Prince Caspian]
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"𝓘𝓽 𝓲𝓼 𝓪 𝓰𝓲𝓯𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓸𝔀 𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓼𝓮𝓵𝓿𝓮𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓪𝓰𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓭𝓮𝓯𝔂 𝓮𝔁𝓹𝓮𝓬𝓽...
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Miraz.
Instantly, the candlelight went out. The sudden darkness made her insides lurch. Briar pressed a finger to her lips to Lydia; she hovered by the window, holding the smoking wick of a candle. Her mind calculated quickly. Enough time had passed for Glozelle to report sighting her around the castle to Uncle Miraz. This could be an investigation, or worse.
What if something happens? Will Caspian even know?
Carefully, Briar sidestepped towards the door. Her head felt like it was going to burst, with the way it was urging her to move, to leave, to fight, anything but continue to stand there. She slipped a trembling hand through her long, gaping sleeve, finding the comfortable form of leather against her forearm. With a flick of her thumb, she unbuckled her dagger. It came out of its sheath without a sound, its weight reassuring in Briar's hands.
Her heartbeat burned in her chest as she slowly pressed an ear to the door, waiting, listening to her own, shaking breath.
"My lady?" came a slight wheeze. It was so faint. Briar almost didn't hear it.
Relief crashed over her like a tidal wave. She quickly unlocked the door, and ushered in a short, fat man in long robes. He wheezed, out of breath, and sat down in one of the chairs.
"You almost gave us a heart attack," Briar protested. "Did you really have to knock like that?"
"It's vital I'm not spotted," Professor Cornelius said gruffly, wiping his spectacles; they had become damp from the sweat.
Lydia offered him a fresh doily, and he patted the sweat off of his forehead and his large, white beard. "It was a bit uncalled for," she agreed.
He waved her away. "I'm here because I have a plan to get you and Caspian to safety, but I need your help."
"You do?" both girls said in surprise.
"Of course!" he said indignantly, his face turning into a bed of wrinkles. "I've had a long time to think about this; since you and your brother were wee sprites that listened to me drone on about Narnian history before bed."
"You mean the fairytales," Briar corrected.
"The history. As I was saying, I'm afraid I must employ your young blood to put this into action. Lydia," he turned to the darker-skinned girl, "you worked as a housewife once. Volunteer your services to the housewives. I hear they're in need of aid. As soon as you know, take the southwestern passage, and meet Briar. She will bring the message to me, and I will escort them out, assuming the news is as I'm predicting."
Lydia sat up straighter, her eyes bright. "Meet you where?"
"The southwestern passage," Briar interrupted, thinking about the castle's layout. That tunnel was the closest. "It opens by the throne room."
