"so be careful to use the words I love you."

-

THIRTEEN.

CADY FALLS BACK INTO HER ROUTINE FOUR DAYS AFTER THE INCIDENT. No one in the How seems to want to address how she had scared the Kings and Queens so badly with her transformation. She feels more comfortable hiding by the water now, practising how to change from fins to legs and back to fins.

Edmund has been incredibly understanding, visiting her every night to accompany her with a small collection of books that Doctor Cornelius has borrowed to him. He tells stories to her of the Golden Age, different from the wild and savage land where magic roams free that she lives in now. "Best swordsman of Narnia," he had told her one night, when they came back from a sparring session that Edmund won again, without surprise. And she had cracked a smile because of course, Edmund is one to push his way through a battle, his sword a barrier that no one dares to cross. He is sharp: teeth, tongue, and blade. She thinks she's lovesick, when his hazel eyes twinkle like the constellations glimmering in the night sky and a rare smile usually reserved for her dawns on his face.

Some time at midday, Cady feels a trembling in the earth that sends a shiver of unease up her spine. "Cady?" Her brother's voice comes from behind the ajar door and she snaps her book close and tosses it on her bed.

"Is something wrong?" She asks, joining his side as he leads the way down the corridor.

"You have to see this." Caspian shakes his head and brings her outside, joining the Pevensies on the archers' point.

Then she sees it. Endless rows and rows of Telmarine soldiers marching across the grassland in unison, stopping a quarter way down.

Her eyes widen. Uncle Miraz leads his troops forward, riding his unmistakable white horse as he flaunts his troops. There are catapults, groups of calvary, and enough soldiers at his disposal to wipe out all the Narnians.

"Oh, dear heavens," Peter breathes, emerging from behind to stare at the troops.

And to think they stand a chance.

x

CADY FIDGETS IN HER SPOT NEXT TO EDMUND, legs tucked underneath her chin and listening carefully to Peter's plan with a small group that gathers in the meeting chamber.

"Cakes and kettledrums. That's your next big plan?" Trumpkin exclaims. He points at Lucy. "Sending a little girl into the darkest parts of the first? Alone!"

"It's our only change," Peter replies, crossing his arms.

"And she won't be alone," Susan adds, taking Lucy's hand.

"Haven't enough of us died already?" Trumpkin questions, eyes softening in sadness. Cady gulps, remembering the Narnians they left behind during the failed seige on Telmar Castle.

Trufflehunter stands up. The badger's words are stern when he answers, "Nikabrik was my friend too, but he lost hope. Queen Lucy hasn't, and neither have I."

Reepicheep draws his sword, holding it across his chest. "For Aslan," he announces.

"For Aslan!" Bulgy Bear exclaims, standing up.

Peter nods knowingly at Lucy, who gives him a tight-lipped smile.

"Then I'm going with you," Trumpkin states, looking at Lucy.

"No, we need you here," the queen replies.

Peter says, "She's right, we have to hold them off until Lucy and Susan get back."

"If I may," Caspian says hesitantly, standing up. The High King nods his permission, gesturing for him to continue. "Miraz may be a tyrant and a murderer, but as king, he is subject to the traditions and expectations of his people," her brother says. "There is one, in particular, that may buy us some time."

"Right!" Cady perks up with a grin. "A duel! You must challenge him to a sword fight. He can't refuse, our uncle is too proud for that."

"Well, then, have you pen and ink, Doctor?" Peter asks.

"A scholar is never without them, your Majesty," answers Cornelius. He spreads out a parchment on the table and sharpens his pen, dipping it in ink and prepares to write.

Peter tilts his head back, closing his eyes. "Right, I will dictate."

x

AN HOUR LATER, Cady treks across the grassland with Edmund, Glenstorm, and Wimbleweather the giant, each carrying a green branch. They pause at the edge of the woods, and wait as a guard approaches them with shaking hands and an even shakier voice: "What is your business here?"

"Tell Miraz his niece wants to see him," Cady says, crossing his arms.

"Excuse me? What?" The guard scrunches his face up in confusion.

"What are you, an idiot?" Cady scoffs. Then she smiled sweetly, showing off her newly acquired fangs. "Tell my uncle Miraz that Cadence of Telmar wants to see him."

Recognition and fear flashes through the guard's eyes and he gulps nervously, before bolting into the camp without a moment's hesitation.

Less than a minute later, General Glozelle is marching forward to greet them and leads them further into the Telmarine camp. The sea of soldiers part as the group walks in, gossiping whispers moving through the crowd. Outside the King's tent, Edmund gestures for Glenstorm and Wimbleweather to wait outside while he and Cady stand patiently by the entrance to be called in.

Cady plasters on a blank expression when they enter, and Edmund casts her a worried glance when Miraz speaks up. "It is wonderful to see you again, dearest niece." Her uncle's smile is bitter and mocking.

"Why, yes, of course, my lovely uncle." Cady beams back, as falsely sweet as she can muster. "How nice to see my uncle after he tried to have me and my brother killed!"

Glozell, who is standing behind them guarding the entrance, stifles a laugh into a poorly disguised cough.

Edmund can't help his smirk, a corner of his mouth twitching up in a smug smile at her response. Then, he unravels a scroll of parchment paper and begins reading from it:

"I, Peter, by the gift of Aslan, by election and by conquest, High King of Narnia, Lord of Cair Paravel and Emperor of the Lone Islands, in order to prevent the abominable effusion of blood, do hereby challenge the Usurper Miraz to single combat upon the field of battle. The fight shall be to the death. The reward shall be total surrender."

Miraz leans back on his chair casually, head tilting as he says, "Tell me, Prince Edmund–"

"King," Edmund interrupts. He rolls the parchment paper up without an explanation.

"Pardon me?" Miraz juts his chin out, as if daring him to repeat his words. 

"It's 'King Edmund' actually," Edmund says with a shrug. "Just 'King' though. Peter's the High King."

The frozen look on Uncle Miraz's face is priceless. And Cady relishes the way his ears go red in embarrassment.

"I know, it's confusing," Edmund adds, rubbing salt in his wound.

"Ed!" Cady nudges the King, eyes widening at his bold words. He turns to smile at her innocently, but the glint in his eyes is mischievous. He is smart, alarmingly so, and he uses it to his advantage at any time he can.

"Why would we risk such a proposal when our armies could wipe you out by nightfall?" Miraz asks, his eyes narrowing.

"Haven't you already underestimated our numbers?" Edmund questions, almost arrogant. "I mean, only a week ago, Narnians were extinct," he emphasises.

"And so you will be again," Miraz threatens coldly.

"Well, then, you should have little to fear." Edmund shoots back, not missing a beat.

Cady's uncle bursts into laughter. "This is not a question about bravery."

Edmund smirks, catching Cady's eye in victory. "So you're bravely refusing to fight a swordsman half your age?"

"Oh, Uncle." Cady feigns disappointment, pressing a hand over her heart. "You wound me."

"I didn't say I refused," Miraz hisses lowly, leaning against the table, immediately coming to his own defence.

"You have our support, your Majesty," a Lord of Telmar further down the table speaks up. "Whatever your decision."

Lord Sopespian turns to Miraz: "Sire, our military advantage alone provides the perfect excuse to avoid what might otherwise be—"

"I'm not avoiding anything!" Miraz shouts, drawing his sword threateningly at Lord Sopespian.

Cady shares a glance with Edmund, a smirk blossoming on his lips as the boy mirrors her expression. She knows her uncle well, and he is too prideful, his ego too fragile.

"I was merely pointing out that my lord is well within his rights to refuse," Sopespian replies.

"His Majesty would never refuse," Glozelle cuts in. "He relishes the chance to show the people the courage of their new king." It is almost as if he is enjoying this little show.

"You–" Miraz points his sword at Edmund, his voice a snarl. "You should hope your brother's sword is sharper than his pen."

Then he turns his sword to Cady. "And do give your brother my regards, it is quite the pity to find out how your father truly died."