"You are Telmarine?"

Peter hid the disapproval in his voice fairly well, but Lena was trained to detect the smallest inflection. She could not fault him for his disgust though.

"I was born a Telmarine of Narnia, but I chose to be something else, something more," she said.

"There are no Telmarines of Narnia."

"Yet. There are no Telmarines of Narnia...yet," Lena clarified. "A few hundred years from now, long after you and yours have departed this world, a great famine strikes the land of Telmar. So the people of Telmar set out to find fertile land, and they found Narnia. The Redemption of Narnia, as the history texts called it, lasted a few months but in the end...Narnia was under new governance."

"And the Narnians?" Susand asked.

"They fled into hiding...until they were eradicated."

"Eradicated?"

"They became figures of myth, creatures of dark fable. They were used as instruments to get children to behave. 'Be good now, or the Bestia will roast you in a stew.'"

There was growling from the back of the room and the Lynx said, "Man flesh is too fatty."

Lena didn't know if she should be appalled by the Lynx or admire her spunk.

"None of what you're saying makes sense," Peter argued. "How could our brother marry a Telmarine born several hundred years after he would have died?"

"Peter, she didn't say we died," Susan pointed out. "She said we departed this world, because we...We leave, don't we?"

Lena gave a quick reluctant nod. "I don't know how or when, but yes, one day you will leave Narnia and return to the other world."

"And you left Narnia too, in your own time."

"Yes. I..." she looked to Peter and said, "I found the courage to run, so I ran. And I never looked back on this place."

Lena's bed was oversized and the linens were light as air and soft as satin. A gentle breeze blew through the open window that stretched from floor to ceiling, leaving the room with a comfortable, airy feel. Her daughters were fast asleep in their rooms across the hall; she knew this because she checked on them. Twice.

Despite being given all the comforts Cair Paravel had to offer, Lena's sleep was restless. Whether it was from all the talk of the Telmarine age she had with Peter and Susan or if it was simply because she was back in Narnia, Lena did not know. But her memories of her time in Narnia were coming back strong and frightfully clear.

"Your Majesty."

Lena could see Lord Jarmane bow through the curtains of her alcove.

"It is an honor to receive the Lord Protector ."

Lord Jarmane received many visitors but none so powerful as the Lord Protector, the late King's Regent and brother. Lena balked at the title. What was he the protector of exactly? Lena thought it was of the people and she once had the fanciful notion that the Lord Protector would ride into Bridgetowne, storm into the House of La Bugia, and rescue her and every other abandoned girl there.

She had long since given up that notion. No one was coming to rescue her or anyone else.

"What brings you to my humble apartments?"

Lord Jarmane's apartments were less humble now than when Lena had first arrived.

The Lord Protector moved slowly through the door. His eyes scanned the room around him looking for something. With a jolt, Lena realized he was looking for her.

"As I am sure you are aware, Lady Prunaprismia is with child," the Lord Protector said, his voice deep and gravely.

"And may I offer you my congratulations on that front," Lord Jarmane said with a bow of his head.

The Lord Protector's mouth twitched. "The physician advises distance while the womb matures. Women can be so fragile during this time, but a man still has his needs."

"And none more so than you, I'm sure. Your Majesty must be feeling all manner of undiluted stress while managing an entire country. I can't imagine that nephew of yours is much help either."

"You are right, of course, Jarmane. His Royal Highness is but a child, too young to manage on his own."

"And a man has his needs."

No doubt, Lord Jarmane thought he could earn a few extra points with the Lord Protector by repeating his own words.

The Lord Protector was no fool. He dismissed Lord Jarmane's flattery without an ounce of acknowledgement. "I am told you have a rather favorable asset who might be of use to me."

"Ah yes. When I acquired her, I knew it was only a matter of time before she would attract interest. But I never suspected I'd be so highly blessed by your presence, Your Majesty."

Lord Jarmane flicked his wrist and Lena knew that was her summons. She left the scarceness of her alcove and made for the center of the room where Lord Jarmane stood with the Lord Protector. She walked slowly but with a purpose, allowing time for the Lord Protector's eyes to take in the movement of her hips and the roundness of her bosom. When she arrived before him she offered a deep curtsy with an advantageous view.

By now, Lena knew the routine well. She would not speak unless asked to. She would not move unless directed to. She would not flinch at the cold and rough touches that were sure to follow. And she would never, under any circumstance, look him in the eye unless made to.

The Lord Protector started first with her face, gently tilting it up; Lena kept her eyes aimed below his. He ran a calloused finger over her lips parting them. His hand moved to the side of her throat and into her hair. He jerked her head first to one side and then the other before throwing it back to expose the long curve of her neck where he let his fingers slide down to her collar bone. He moved around behind her as his hands continued to explore the curves and dips of her body. The thin material of her dress provided little resistance against him.

Lena did not falter, even as his hand slid along her inner thigh before abruptly falling away.

"You are unconvinced?" Lord Jarmane asked.

Lena thought otherwise.

"Why don't you take her for the night. Sample what she can do. We can discuss terms later."

The Lord Protector said nothing as he moved back around. His eyes roamed over her, emotionless and blank. Lena had never failed to obtain a client for Lord Jarmane, and she dreaded to learn the consequences of failing to obtain one of such high rank. In a daring and desperate attempt to not fail, she met the Lord Protector's gaze and held it.

"Have her brought to my chambers tonight. I want her there after my evening meal."

"Of course, Your Majesty," Lord Jarmane replied with a bow. "She will not disappoint."

The Lord Protector pulled his eyes from Lena to cast a glare in Lord Jarmane's direction. "For your sake, you best hope not."

Lena did go to the Lord Protector's chambers that night. And after Lord Jarmane was found dead a few days later, Lena stayed in the Lord Protector's chambers.

Pregnant? Lena could not believe she had allowed herself to become pregnant. A cortesana knew better; it was as good as a death sentence, or worse, a marriage sentence. Yet here she was, sixteen years old and pregnant in a strange new world.

Lena tried to think back to how this had happened, even though she hated thinking of those days. She had always been diligent in taking her weekly herbal bundle, a mixture of corn mint, pennyroyal, artemisia, and queen's lace. The girls of La Bugia were taught how to identify, cut, and prepare each herb as a necessity. No man wanted his mistress to wind up pregnant, and no good mistress wanted to get pregnant.

Lena could remember those last days in Narnia well, too well. The fear. The hopelessness. The desperation she felt. Desperate not for an escape, simply for an end to all things. She could remember the night of the raid. People stormed into the Lord Protector's bed chamber where she slept nightly. She could still feel the Lord Protector's hands around her throat, tightening as he used her to shield himself. She could see the bodies of the slain Bestia where they littered the stone courtyard. She could hear the Lord Protector's threats as he whispered in her ear: "This is what becomes of those who cross me. Take a good look, Mi Tesera, lest you become one of them." Then he had taken her to his chamber and had his way with her once more.

Lena could not bear the thought of having his child. What if it was a boy and he turned out like his father? Cold, heartless, and cruel beyond measure. Or worse, what if she had a daughter? Then she would be subjected to the same life that Lena had. Lena knew she could not allow that to happen, so she had scoured the island looking for her herbs. She collected everything she could find, but Caterina had found them and destroyed them. Her hope was lost. Lena knew this child would come, and she'd be helpless to stop it.

A constant reminder of the hell she left behind.

Edmund laced his fingers through Lena's and squeezed her hand as the doctor delivered the worst of his news. Lena didn't know why she had expected anything else. Her life had become one that was too good to last long.

"...The damage is too extensive... Our options are limited... There's so much we don't know..."

Edmund pulled Lena aside after they left the office. He held her close and tried to shake her from her stupor.

"We'll fight this. You and I have defeated greater enemies and cruler masters. We'll defeat this too, together. You didn't escape Miraz to be taken down by this."

"I didn't escape him," Lena said faintly. "I never escaped him. Not really. Just as you never really escaped the Witch. The wounds they left are still there. They are covered by years of scar tissue and wishful thinking, but they are still there."

Edmund leaned his forehead against hers. "Don't give up on me, Ileana. Please, not yet. God willing, we will find our way through this battle too."

Lena wanted to chide him for his belief in a higher being. She went to Sunday services with the rest of the family, she softly sang along with the hymns, and she bowed her head for prayers, but in her heart she knew she was just going through the motions. It had taken the birth of Sara for Lena to realize that Edmund truly loved her. It was still a while after that before she realized that she truly loved him too.

In all her years in this world and in the other one, Lena had seen little evidence of a higher being. If it took her so long to believe in what was right in front of her, then how could she be expected to believe in what she couldn't see?

"Just because you can't see it, doesn't mean it isn't there," Lucy would always say.

Now, as Lena watched the tear fall from Edmund's eye she thought perhaps it didn't matter if she believed. Edmund believed. Just as he had believed in her and in her ability to be a mom to Meri, he believed in this. And if he believed there was a way through this, then maybe that was enough.

Lena tilted his head up, forcing him to make eye contact. "I'm not giving up on anything, Little King."

Lena sensed rather than heard someone approaching from behind. Instinctively she reached for the six-inch protection plan she had against too handsy guys. Then she looked up in her mirror.

"Not you again," she said, turning around to face him. "How the hell did you even get back here?"

"William owed me a favor," Little King said.

"Well now he's a dead favor."

Little King's eyes dropped to the knife Lena still clutched in her hand. "Do you know how to use that?"

"It's not like it's that hard." Lena wasn't about to admit to him that she'd never actually had to use it before; usually just flashing it worked wonders on drunken men.

"It's quite easy to harm yourself with it as well, easier in fact, especially if you're holding it wrong... which you are. I could show you how to use it properly...if you'd like."

"Come a step closer and I'll show you how properly I can use it."

Little King held up his hands in surrender, a small smirk on his face, and took a step back. "Look, I... I think you might have taken our last encounters the wrong way."

"Oh? And how is stalking and breaking a man's nose supposed to be taken the right way?"

"I'm not stalking you and the *salaud deserved worse."

"Really? You're not stalking me?" Lena couldn't contradict the latter part of his statement. "Finding me once, that's luck. A second time, coincidence. But a third time, stalking."

"If you're trying to hide you're not doing a very good job of it. You sing in the same jazz bar every night. Quite well," he added hastily at the look on her face. "That's why I'm here actually."

"No. That's why you're leaving...now, or I'll scream bloody murder."

"Wait! Please, Lena...just hear me out."

"What...what did you call me?"

"Uh—Lena? It's a nickname. It's short for Ileana."

"I know what a nickname is, Little King." His familiar use of the nickname, however, caused her pause. There was something about the way he said it that seemed so intimate, and it puzzled her.

"Right." He grinned. "Just...Just give me thirty minutes, please, to tell you about an opportunity I have for you, a proposition that could change your life forever. Hear me out and I give you my solemn vow that you will never see me again unless you choose to do so."

"I hear what you have to say and you promise to leave me alone and never return?"

He hesitated for only a second. "I swear it upon my honor."

There was that word again. Honor. She really did hate that word. Still, Lena had to consider his offer. Of course there was no way she would accept it, whatever it was, but it would be nice to be rid of him.

"You have twenty minutes," she said, grabbing her pack of woodbines and heading to the sofa. "I'm due back on stage in thirty."

Salaud: Pig/swine (French)