Daggers of Ice

Chapter 32

The Northern Lands.

Faelar.

Faelar awoke to a harsh light stinging his eyes and a pounding in the back of his mind – insistent and heavy. He groaned when a familiar shadow fell over him, pulling his furs up over his head. "Let me sleep."

If only Aslan would be so kind.

The covers were ripped from his body, leaving his pale skin bared to the chilly air and instinctively he drew his knees towards his chest in an effort to retain the warmth that was quickly fading.

"As amusing as this is, we soon must meet with the kings and queens of Narnia," Arianna's voice was aloof, detached; yet he knew there would be mirth shimmering in her emerald orbs. "A war council has been called."

"And High King Peter lets you sit in upon it?" Faelar sat up and stared at her; regretting it a moment later when the blood pounded through his head and the contents of his stomach threatened to rise and spill over the icy floor of his chambers.

"High King Peter had no choice," her voice was as cold and ice.

...

Where the Northern Lands Meet the Western Woods.

Edmund.

Edmund glared at the woman with unconcealed mistrust from where he stood in the shadows of the tent. He'd been scolded by Peter, Susan, and even Lucy. He'd treated the woman too roughly, they said, when it was obvious she'd been through much.

There was no mistaking the pleased look in her violet eyes as Peter spoke to her in soft tones. And he could not just believe that it was feminine pleasure – it was something more (though they called him paranoid). She had obviously wanted all of the High King's attention, for she had seemed uneasy at Asura's presence.

And that was why the Captain of the High King's guard, third in command of Narnia, was standing guard to the tent's door like a common soldier.

The woman, Lily she'd said her name was, was smiling very prettily up at Pete, and he could not help the scowl on his face as his brother grinned in return, offering her more grapes.

"She's very pretty," Lucy commented absent-mindedly at his side.

"You trust her?" Ed's scowl deepened.

"I said she was pretty, nothing more."

Those pretty violet orbs rested on Arianna the moment she entered – Edmund knew it was her by the goosebumps that rippled over his skin; he did not need to turn towards the tent flap. Through his mind played images of the night before, her small upturned face with the hint of a smile as they twisted around each other – dancing to the crass northern music that set a fire in his blood.

Then the woman's – Lily's – perfect mouth fell open and a blood curdling scream pierced the air as she scurried backwards into Peter's arms, eyes wide and terrified.

"Get her out of here Ed," Pete's voice was sharp and cutting as he attempted to sooth the quivering woman in his arms.

...

Arianna.

Arianna did not snarl or protest as they left the tent, but her eyes were blazing.

She didn't spare Faelar's startled face a glance as she strode through the Narnians who scrambled to get out of her way, Edmund trailing her. She could feel his sombre expression – his mistrust that boiled just below the surface.