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Drinian was checking the water casks, listening to the hollow slosh against wood, when there was movement at the treeline and His Majesty emerged from the forest.
Drinian's hands stilled on the rope he'd been coiling. He scanned the trees behind the king. No sign of King Edmund or the Scrubb boy.
The king's gait was wrong. Each step was a deliberate, conscious decision: the walk of a man ordering his body to function. Men walked like that after battles, after losses. When the body kept going but the mind had stopped.
He set down the rope and moved to intercept.
Queen Lucy reached him first. Plan B, then.
'Where's Ed?'
Caspian opened his mouth.
Drinian closed the distance. The crew had gone quiet, and every man within earshot had stopped what he was doing.
'Caspian.' Lucy stepped closer. 'Where's Ed?'
'Dragon.'
Drinian's jaw tightened. He should have sent a larger search party. Should have gone himself.
'*What?*'
'Took him.'
'You left him?'
Caspian flinched. His hands were shaking. He was clutching something: crushed, torn blue fabric. Edmund's sleeve.
'Tried—' His voice cracked. 'Couldn't—'
Drinian had served his king since he was a young man running for his life. He'd seen him wounded, exhausted, cornered. But he'd never seen him look like this.
'He's alive,' Lucy said. 'He has to be alive. Dragons don't just— they wouldn't—'
The colour had drained from Caspian's face.
'Queen Lucy.' Drinian kept his tone level. Antagonising her wouldn't help Caspian. Dragons kill, everyone here knew that, and Caspian wouldn't thank them for the reminder.
'No.' She rounded on him. 'We have to go after him. We have to—' Behind her, Caspian closed his eyes.
'We'll search at first light.' Drinian met her eyes. 'A party up the mountain—'
'Dragon might—' Caspian couldn't finish. The words wouldn't come.
Lucy touched his arm.
'Caspian. It's not your fault.'
He nodded jerkily once, before the movement broke. He made a sound Drinian had never heard from him before: half-sob, half-keening. Caspian buried his face in his hands and his shoulders shook.
Lucy pulled him down to her shoulder, one hand cupping the back of his head.
'Caspian.' Drinian pitched his voice low. Command voice. 'Sit down.'
He did, with Lucy beside him. The torn sleeve stayed crushed in his fist.
Drinian turned to face the crew. Thirty men, all staring.
'Back to work.' The command carried. 'We make camp. Full watch rotation tonight. At first light, we send search parties.'
Slowly at first, then with purpose, the men returned to work. Drinian caught the eye of his second.
'Double the watch. No-one approaches that treeline after dark.'
'Aye, Captain.'
Caspian sat with his face still buried in his hands, Lucy beside him. Drinian crouched beside them.
'Majesty.'
Caspian's head turned. Everything stripped bare. Red-rimmed eyes, dry for now.
'Report.'
An automatic response, reverting to the training of a boy raised to kingship in a war camp. Drinian had heard that tone before, when Caspian was wounded but still trying to command.
'Camp’s secure. We search at dawn.' Drinian kept it brief. No point in details. 'You're not needed tonight.'
Caspian nodded slowly. He tucked the torn sleeve in his doublet, against his chest.
Drinian stood. The king sat hunched over, staring at nothing. There would be no intelligent command decisions from him until Edmund's fate was known. Drinian would have to handle everything himself.
He had thirty men, two royals, and a dragon somewhere on that mountain to manage.
He got to work.
***
'There! Look!'
Drinian's head snapped up. One of the crew was pointing toward the mountain.
Wings. A dragon descending, slow and careful. And on its back—
'Edmund.' Caspian's voice broke on the name and he ran, faster than Drinian had ever seen him. The torn sleeve fell to the ground unnoticed.
The dragon landed and settled at the forest edge, watching. The crew gave it a wide berth, forming a loose semicircle thirty feet back. Edmund slid off its back.
Caspian crashed into him, wrapping himself around Edmund and pulling him close. He buried his face in Edmund's hair and clung on.
Drinian stopped ten feet back. The crew stood frozen, watching their king embrace another man like he was the only thing keeping him upright.
Edmund held Caspian just as tightly.
Lucy started toward them. Drinian caught her arm. Her eyebrows raised. He shook his head slightly. Not yet.
Caspian was pulling back now. Slowly, like it hurt. He stepped back three feet and his expression went blank. The court mask. Drinian had seen it before, hiding the man behind the king. Caspian's hands clenched into fists.
'No.' Edmund's voice cracked. 'No, don't.'
He threw himself at Caspian, who caught him easily. Edmund clung to him, his fingers twisted in Caspian's doublet.
Caspian wasn't going to be able to explain this to the crew as relief.
Drinian released Lucy's arm. She stepped forwards.
'Ed? Are you—'
Caspian's fingers slid into Edmund's hair. He wasn't looking at Lucy at all, and had barely taken his eyes off the man he held against him since this started.
'I'm fine.' The words were too controlled. 'It's Eustace. The dragon is Eustace.'
'That makes sense, about Eustace. Ed—'
'I'm fine.'
Lucy stepped back.
Even his sister.
He wasn't fine. Edmund was shaking. Caspian traced slow, steady circles on his back.
The men watched, and no-one spoke.
'How did this happen?' Drinian asked.
'He took something,' Edmund said, not letting go of Caspian. 'Gold, I think, from a dragon's hoard. That's what does this, in the stories where I come from.'
'We'll camp here tonight,' Caspian said over Edmund's head, 'and set a watch. Then we'll work out how to fix this.'
The crew got to work setting up tents, building the fire higher.
Lucy moved toward them again. Caspian shifted, pulling Edmund closer against him, and she stopped. She turned away, and started giving orders to the crew.
Caspian was speaking quietly to Edmund. Continuously. Drinian couldn't hear the words, and didn't try to.
Edmund eventually walked towards the treeline to gather wood. Caspian followed immediately. They walked together, close enough their shoulders brushed. Limpets, the pair of them.
The crew worked around them. No-one stared or whispered.
But his king had just made something very clear, very public. And Drinian would have to manage what came next.
He approached the king.
'Your Majesty.'
The king turned his head without moving away from Edmund.
'Drinian.'
'The men have questions. About—' Drinian gestured vaguely at the two of them.
Caspian's jaw was tight.
'Do they.' His voice was flat.
'They understand. You thought he was dead. Any man would have—'
'Would have what? Grabbed him like that, in front of everyone?' His attention never left Edmund.
'Would have been glad to see him alive. They're good men, Your Majesty. Loyal. And they—' He paused. 'They've suspected, for some time, who King Edmund is to you. Today confirmed it.'
Edmund went rigid. Caspian murmured something against his ear, too quietly for Drinian to hear, and held him closer.
'How long?'
'Does it matter?'
The tension left Caspian's shoulders.
'No,' Caspian said quietly. 'No, I don't suppose it does.'
Drinian nodded once.
'I'll see to the watch rotation, Your Majesty.'
He turned and walked back toward the perimeter. Behind him, Edmund and Caspian stood together. The crew continued working.
Drinian found his second at the watch post.
'Standard rotation. No-one approaches the Kings’ tent tonight unless the island's on fire.'
'Aye, Captain.' His second paused. 'The men?'
'The men will follow their king. As they always have.'
'Even now?'
'Especially now.' Drinian's voice was firm. 'Pass the word. Anyone who has a problem with what they saw today answers to me.'
His second grinned slightly, then straightened.
'Aye, sir.'