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Caspian pressed the tip of his sword against—no, into—the man’s neck. He couldn’t help it. A bead of bright red blood welled up.
“Choose your reply wisely,” he growled. “Or you won’t speak again. Where is he?”
The man’s throat worked.
“The dungeons—the stairs there and two floors down—he’s in the cell at the end.”
Caspian didn’t move his sword.
“The keys?”
The man fumbled a jangling chain from his belt and slowly handed it over. Caspian snatched it from his fingers.
“Tie him up,” he snarled to his companions, and ran.
~
A figure slumped in the back of the dank cell, hands chained to the moldering wall above his head, which hung low, dark hair falling over his face and matted in a way Caspian didn’t like. He didn’t react to the noise of the door opening.
“Edmund—”
It ought to have been a yell, but Caspian found he had no breath. He crossed the room in three strides and knelt beside Edmund. His fingers trembled—with fear or rage, he could not tell—as he reached out to cup a hand around Edmund’s cheek.
Edmund jerked when Caspian tilted his chin up, blearily fighting, then stilled as he saw who it was.
“Caspian,” he croaked.
Caspian could see, now, that Edmund’s face was bruised, dried blood caught in the corner of his mouth; there was definitely more crusted in his hair. His dark eyes, though, sparked back to life as they drank in Caspian’s face. Caspian rubbed his thumb comfortingly over Edmund’s cheek before letting go and turning to the chains.
He got one manacle undone—Edmund grunted as his arm dropped—then the other. Caspian caught Edmund’s wrist and lowered this arm more slowly. Edmund worked his shoulders, movements stiff and clumsy.
“Can’t feel my arms,” he muttered.
“Just move slowly,” Caspian said, forcing his own hands not to run desperately over every inch of Edmund.
He rubbed Edmund’s arms, trying to help the blood flow, and Edmund winced—more bruises, hidden beneath his dirty tunic. Caspian stilled, but Edmund shook his head.
“No, it’s fine.”
He leaned into Caspian’s hands, and Caspian knew this was all the comfort he was allowing himself; Edmund did not believe in undue displays of affection behind enemy lines.
Well, he would just have to get Edmund home, then.
He went back to working feeling into Edmund’s arms.
“Can you stand?”
Edmund’s laugh was like a door hinge creaking.
“No clue. Probably; they didn’t break anything.”
Caspian pulled one of Edmund’s arms over his shoulder and settled his own firmly about Edmund’s waist. Edmund staggered as Caspian pulled him upright, legs numb, but with Caspian’s help he was able to limp out the door and leave that sorry room behind.
~
Caspian arranged for warm food and sent riders to Edmund’s siblings, out with their own search parties, while the healers looked Edmund over. When they left him, resting on a couch in his rooms, they told Caspian,
“And try to make him rest.”
Caspian nodded with a wry smile. He was across the room before the door closed behind them.
“I heard that,” Edmund said. His voice was still raw, but much better now that he’d had a chance to drink something. “And it’s unfair. I love being lazy.”
Caspian sat beside him, and he sunk back into Caspian’s arms. The sharp knot still brooding in Caspian’s chest eased as the warm, heavy lines of Edmund’s body settled into their familiar places.
“For a day,” Caspian said. “Then you get restless.”
Caspian ran soft hands over Edmund, eyes tracing every point on his face. Clean and freshly bandaged, Edmund almost looked worse than he had in the dungeon. Perhaps it was only the better lighting, but now Caspian could clearly see the purple and blue mottling Edmund’s face, the raw skin over his wrists, the bulk and bunch of his clothes from the bandages underneath. Caspian’s hands felt tension lingering in muscles that refused to fully relax.
Edmund studied Caspian’s face a moment, then slipped a hand into Caspian’s hair.
“Hey,” he whispered. “I’m okay now.”
He tugged Caspian’s head down for a gentle kiss.
“You shouldn’t be telling me that,” Caspian said. He brushed a finger over the dark circles beneath Edmund’s eyes. “You’re the one who got captured. And I know what that brings up for you.”
Edmund shivered with phantom chill. Caspian couldn’t pull him any closer; he tried anyway. But when he spoke, Edmund’s voice, though low, was steady.
“That was a long time ago, now. And I’m not who I was then.”
“No, you’re not. And you have four people now who would do anything to get you back.”
Caspian could feel Edmund shaking as he laughed.
“So you’d have marched into Jadis’s castle singlehandedly to rescue me?”
Caspian chuckled.
“Perhaps. You make me do very foolish things.”
Edmund wiggled down so he could tuck his head under Caspian’s chin. (He was very like a cat, and Caspian couldn’t help dropping a kiss on his temple before he let Edmund settle.)
“Good.”
Caspian laughed again.
“Try not to fall asleep before the food comes. You haven’t eaten properly in days.”
“Mm, no promises. I also haven’t been warm or comfortable for days.”
Caspian pushed down the flicker of rage the casual statement lit in his chest. Edmund was safe now.
“I’m glad I can be useful for something,” he teased.
“You do make a very good pillow.”
“Anything for you.” Feeling Edmund relax against him, the last of the tension slowly ebbing away, he added more seriously, “We will always come for you.”
Edmund’s hand found Caspian’s.
“I know.”
“Good. What was the book you were reading, before you were taken?”
“…what?”
“I’m keeping you awake until you’ve eaten. And you were trying to tell me about that book you started; I was too tired and promised I’d listen in the morning, and in the morning, you were gone. So tell me now.”
“Or you could let me sleep.”
Caspian nuzzled the top of Edmund’s head.
“Nope. Talk to me.”
Edmund sighed without any real rancor.
“It was one I borrowed from the Anvard castle library, last time we visited. I hadn’t had a chance to read it yet…”