Will Briar begin a new era of witches, or will history repeat itself? Either way, Edmund won't be tricked twice.
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"If I perish, I perish. You can take my life, but you can't take my will." In which a girl born of Narnia's two greatest adversaries...
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Updated: 8/24/2024
Briar was smothered in a crushing hug. "Angelina?" She was too stunned to return her embrace. "What are you doing here?"
"Relax." Angelina laughed and rolled her eyes. "Your friends were taking care of my wagon as I was leaving. They were pretty efficient about it, too," she added. Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Especially the one with the dark hair–he was cute and good with a sword. Is he Calormen?"
Briar rolled her eyes. Of all of the things Angelina could've mentioned... "No, he isn't. Look, I don't think you should be here right now."
Angelina patted her shoulder and peered around the other side of the tree, a hand on the hilt of her scimitar. "Fine, fine, change the subject. But don't sound so surprised," she chided. "You couldn't escape me if you tried. Her eyes glanced over the princess. "You look well. Are they treating you well?"
Briar's smile dissipated. "How do you expect? I'm a Telmarine. It'll be nice to finally have some backup."
Angelina's expression shifted to...was it guilt? "Uh, I'm not going with you."
She went strangely silent. Briar's momentary elation flattened into circumspection. She knew the General's daughter well–she didn't do or say anything unless it served a greater purpose. Leaning back against the base of the tree, she examined her sharpened sidearm. "Why are you here, then?"
Angelina's eyes were drawn to the blade glinting in Briar's hands. She started towards her, and Briar was surprised to see a tight-lipped smile on her face.
"I'm here for that." She gestured to the dagger.
Instinctively, Briar reached for it. "What?"
Angelina sighed as though the whole conversation had become irritating. She took a step forward. "There's no time to explain. I promise, this is going to change the game."
Briar sheathed her dagger, keeping her grip on its hilt. "This is a family heirloom." Her thoughts began to refocus, and she breathed. "If you're not joining me, you should go back, Angel. We can't afford to mess this up."
Angelina grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. "In order not to 'mess up' this uprising, you need to give me your dagger. You trust me, don't you?"
"Well, yes," Briar faltered, words colliding in her throat, "but I'm not just going to give it to you." She pulled her hand away suddenly. Something about the shine in her eyes sent chills up her spine. Angelina was the calmest, most direct person she knew.
Right now, she looked uneasy.
Briar scanned her expression. "What's wrong, Angel?"
The bit of grey in Angelina's eyes turned steely. "I told you, there's no time to expla—"
A sudden commotion cut her off. Leaves crunched loudly from the nearby tree line–in the direction of the river. Both Briar and Angelina turned, reaching for their sidearms, but upon seeing a familiar silhouette, Briar's muscles slackened.
