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"HOW MANY?"
I don't want to ask, and I definitely don't want to hear his reply, but I'm afraid if I don't do it now I'll never have the strength to go back out there and face the Narnians again. I have to do it now. I have to know.
His eyes are dark and heavy with pain when they meet mine and I realize too late how unprepared I am for this reality.
"About a third," he replies thickly.
My legs turn weak and I have to catch myself against the nearest stone pillar, my breathing becoming painful. One third? We lost sixty Narnians? I've been dreading asking this — dreading the answer I'd receive because I knew it wouldn't be good, and I know it could've been worse, so much worse, but...sixty? Sixty of my friends killed in an act of war that could've been stopped but instead was lost?Sixty lives?
Edmund starts toward me. "Ryn, I..."
"I'm fine," I insist breathlessly, eyes closed against the memories of the battle — the lifeless bodies of the Narnians I grew up with sprawled across the courtyard while I flew away. Marnus, Tyrus, Tozinks, Aulgris, Verdan...
Oh, Aslan help me...Verdan.
I feel Edmund's arms around me, drawing me close to him in a comforting hug that I don't try to fight this time. Numbly, I sink into his embrace, the realization of what happened last night setting in like a storm. Verdan's mischievous blue eyes flicker across my vision and I feel as if my heart might shatter.
"I flew away," I breathe, the words catching like a dagger in my throat. All the times we chased each other through the woods and he helped me perfect my wolf form and taught me to hunt in the pack; how he always sat and waited for me at the edge of the trees when I visited and he was always there when I needed someone. His voice and his laugh and the way he loved so fiercely to run with the pack. How his eyes would light up around his brother and sister like they were everything. And I left.Ez and Ness...I wasn't even there. I should have been there.
Tears slip from the corners of my eyes and I cling tighter to the boy before me like I might drown. I wasn't there for them.
Edmund holds me close, offering his warmth and his steady, beating heart and his strong arms around me like a line anchoring me to shore — to him. And through the crashing storm and the suffocating dark, I hold tight.
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Amongst all the activity and heat and noise in the main chamber of Aslan's How, Susan Pevensie returns from visiting the battered war party troops recuperating in the northern tunnels. Ever the strong Queen of legend, she wears an unwavering mask of courage and resilience: shoulders pulled back confidently, graceful strides purposeful and long, blue eyes full of vigour and resolve. She smiles and nods to each Narnian as she passes them hard at work hauling weapons, forging armour, or handing out provisions. Her gaze lands on me as I stride down the centre aisle toward her, and though her lips are turned upward in a welcoming smile she seems surprised to see me.
