It was the fourth time they put the kettle on that night. The residents of the tree cottage—or rather, what was left of them—found themselves in need of much tea in order to calm down. After prodding a piece of incredibly stale bread, Ina decided that tea was a safer option and went to get the kettle.
Clicking his tongue impatiently, Nikabrik held his cup out for her to fill it. "I don't think you hit him hard enough," he grumbled.
Ina glowered. "You're just disappointed that I didn't kill him."
"You said it, not me."
"Nikabrik!" a voice scolded. "He's just a boy!"
Trufflehunter the badger walked out from the kitchen, which was a large hollow that housed racks of rare herbs, among other things that he would use to conjure his delicacies. The smell of mushroom and sage drifted from the bowl of soup in his hands, and Ina heard her stomach let out a low growl.
The badger set the bowl down on the table, smacking Ina's hand as she reached for it a second time. Miraculously, he'd slept through the whole ordeal of last night. He'd only woken up when she and Nikabrik dragged the boy into the house.
When Trufflehunter finally got them to stop bickering and tell him the full story, he wasted no time in tending to the boy's wounds, whose head had begun bleeding from Ina's blow. He insisted that they removed the boy's weapons and lay him on Ina's bed, which she wasn't too happy about, but didn't object. She did hit him, after all.
Nikabrik, on the other hand, raised hundreds of objections.
"He's a Telmarine! His kind has killed thousands of ours!" He rounded on Trufflehunter now, who stared back at him calmly. "You've always been too nice to these monsters. I could tolerate the girl—"
Ina raised an eyebrow. "I'm right here, you know."
"—but this! This is too much, Trufflehunter! I say we kill him before he kills us!"
"You will do no such thing," the badger said firmly, laying a protective hand on Ina. Her heart welled with warmth, and she smiled at him gratefully. "Not all Telmarines are cruel. Ina is proof of that."
"Besides," he added, "I've just bandaged his head. It would be like murdering a guest."
"Oh?" Nikabrik's lips curled. "And how do you think his friends are treating their guest?"
The mention of Trumpkin's capture landed on both of them like a blow. Ina remembered watching the soldiers carry him away while she hid behind a tree trunk, unable to do anything but watch.
Of the two dwarves, Trumpkin was the much kinder one. Though he was always gruff and curt with Ina, he was the one who taught her how to use a sword, albeit after years of her begging him. Even then, they only trained when Nikabrik was away, for the Narnians had forbade Ina to be taught how to fight. We will let the Telmarine stay, they said when she, a mere child of eight seeking refuge in the woods, pleaded her case before them. But we will not teach her how to kill us.
"Trumpkin knew what he was doing," Ina said quietly, thinking of his wide eyes before he charged at the guards. "It wasn't the boy's fault."
Nikabrik scoffed, an icy sound. "That's rich, coming from—"
But he didn't manage to finish before the boy burst into the living room, knocked the table over and dashed for the door.
Ina saw a flash of metal and realised that Nikabrik had drawn his sword, hurling himself between the boy and the door. The boy looked around frantically, and snatched up the first piece of metal that he saw: a fire poker.
A clash of steel later, the two were parrying, and to her amusement, Ina noticed that the boy was doing very well with his fire poker.
"No! Stop!" Trufflehunter protested.
The dwarf growled between blows, "I told you we should've killed him when we had the chance!"
"You know why we can't!"
For the first time since he awoke, the boy spoke. "If we're taking a vote, I'm with him." He jerked his head at Trufflehunter.
But Nikabrik didn't listen, and continued sparring the boy, his attacks wild and rash. Ina was not worried for the boy—he was an excellent swordsman—but she decided she'd seen enough. Two throwing knives flew from her hand, knocking the weapons out of their grasps, and Nikabrik whirled on her, fuming.
"You little—" He barreled across the room. "I always knew you'd betray us!"
She levelled her sword to keep the dwarf at bay. "You heard Trufflehunter. We can't kill him."
"That's enough! The both of you!" Trufflehunter rarely got upset, but when he did, Ina recalled that it was intimidating. "Or do I have to sit on your head again, Nikabrik?"
The dwarf shot him a dark look, but the thought of Trufflehunter's bottom was far too much for him to bear, and so he shuddered and backed away. Ina almost wished that Nikabrik wouldn't, just so that she could watch Trufflehunter sit on him once more.
"And you!" The badger turned to the boy. "Look what you made me do," he bristled, gesturing at the overturned table, the bowls and teacups strewn on the ground. "I spent half the morning on that soup!"
But the boy's mind was far from spilled soup. His expression was a mixture of fear and wonder as his eyes darted between the three, not knowing who to take in first. Eventually, they decided to land on Ina. "You're a Telmarine."
She flipped the table back upright and snorted. "Very observant of you."
"And you." His eyes returned to Trufflehunter and Nikabrik, widening. "What...what are you?"
"You know, it's funny that you would ask that," Trufflehunter deadpanned as he shuffled into the kitchen. "You think more people would know a badger when they saw one."
"No, no I mean..." The boy was still breathing hard, his chest rising and falling beneath his tunic. "You're Narnians. You're supposed to be extinct."
His voice wavered when he said "Narnians", as if the word was a curse, forbidden. Ina knew that where he came from, the mere idea of Narnians would be punishable. Her father didn't care much for the law, though. He was a rebel that way, telling her bedtime stories of the magical creatures. That is, before he lost his soul to liquor.
"Well, sorry to disappoint you," said Nikabrik bluntly and returned to his tea.
The boy faced Ina now, confusion creasing his eyebrows. "Who are you? Wha- How did you get here? How long have you stayed?"
"That's a lot of questions, and it's a long story," she sighed, sinking into one of the mismatched seats at the table. Her knees brushed against her chest as she did—the stool was far too short for her. She watched dispiritedly as Trufflehunter appeared with a new bowl of soup that was not meant for her. He placed it on the table gently. "There you go," he told the boy. "Still warm."
Nikabrik scowled. "Since when did we open a boarding house for Telmarines? First the girl, now this soldier—"
"I'm not a soldier." The boy frowned and drew himself to his full height; his head grazed the ceiling. "I'm Prince Caspian. The Tenth."
Ina recognised the name—everyone in Telmar did. It was the name of the crown prince, and his father, and eight other kings before him. She wanted to roll her eyes. Another Caspian. Couldn't they have come up with better names?
"Then what are you doing here?" she asked instead. "Who are you running from?"
His shoulders slumped—a slight gesture, almost imperceptible, but she caught it anyway. She recognised the look on his face. It was the same dismay she felt the day she was forced to leave her house in Telmar, when she could no longer pay rent.
"My uncle has always wanted my throne," Caspian said heavily, slotting the fire poker back to its place. He leaned against the hearth and stared blankly at the dancing flames. "I suppose I've only lived this long because he did not have an heir of his own."
Trufflehunter glanced at Ina, who could only shrug, and Nikabrik, who was still wearing the same dark scowl. Finally, the badger said, "Well, that changes things."
Suddenly, an idea crossed Ina's mind. "I say we turn him in."
The others spun to her in shock. "What?"
"We could trade him for Trumpkin. He's worth more—"
"And what makes you think the Telmarines won't kill you on the spot?" Nikabrik snapped. "They'll charge you with treason for fraternising with Narnians."
Ina wanted to argue, though she knew he was right. She would probably be executed in the town square, and the prince would be murdered by his uncle. And Trumpkin...
"You have to let him go, Ina," Trufflehunter said hoarsely.
When she looked up, she realised that Caspian was staring—whether shocked at her willingness to betray him, or puzzled at how much she cared for the dwarf, she did not know. She sharpened at once, lifting her chin; the boy will not see her grief.
Silence congealed in the room, broken only by Nikabrik's voice, "Well, at least that means we won't have to kill you ourselves."
The prince nearly flinched at that, but he quickly morphed his features into collectedness. "You're right." He straightened, a new purpose in his stride. The three of them stared in confusion as he crossed the room to get his things. "My uncle will not stop until I'm dead," he said.
Trufflehunter leaped up from his seat, exclaiming, "But— You can't leave! You're meant to save us!"
Now that caught Caspian's attention. He paused, baffled, his vest buckled halfway.
The badger reached for the white horn on the table now, cradling it carefully in his paws. Ina had only examined it from afar during the past few hours—Nikabrik forbade her from touching the ancient Narnian relic. All she gathered was that it had a lion's head carved onto the wide end, it's jaws opened in a silent roar.
"Don't you know what this is?" he asked.
"Actually," Ina piped up, though fully aware that the question was not meant for her. "I don't. What is that?"
Nikabrik sighed loudly, but Trufflehunter went on. "This was the horn of Susan Pevensie, Queen of Narnia. It is said that the horn could summon the kings and queens of old."
"Do you think that's what Caspian has done? Are the kings and queens on their way?"
"Yes, I do think so. But we should consult the centaurs. They would know better than I."
"Centaurs?" Caspian's eyes gleamed with childlike wonder. "They still exist?"
"Why don't you list out the whole army for him, while you're at it?" Nikabrik cut in sourly.
"There's...an army?" The prince's tone took on disbelief. "A Narnian army?"
Ina sneered at Nikabrik. "Now you've done it."
"Do you know where I can find them?" Caspian continued.
"What, so you can get more of them killed?"
"I would need an army to overthrow my uncle." The words left Caspian's mouth evenly, as if overthrowing uncles was an ordinary family affair. Gone was the hurt from his uncle's betrayal; he did a great job at shaking it off, tucking it in a dark corner of his heart to be examined when he was alone. Ina herself had done the same, many a time.
"And what makes you think they'll fight for you?" she asked.
"We have a common enemy."
"Some of them can be difficult to persuade." Ina narrowed her eyes at him. "Very difficult."
"That's where you come in." The eagerness in his voice intrigued her, and she quirked an eyebrow. "They know you. If you say I can be trusted, they'll believe you."
Nikabrik made a low guffaw. "They don't like her as much as you think they do."
She shrugged, mischief playing in her eyes. "I can be very persuasive."
"Don't be rash, you two," Trufflehunter warned. "We should wait for the kings and queens. They can rally the Narnians better than anyone else."
But Ina wasn't listening. She turned to Caspian, meeting his gaze. "You said you wanted to take back your throne. And when you're king, I believe you'll have much gold at your disposal."
Caspian smiled wryly, already catching on. "I promise you will be rewarded handsomely."
"Ina, stop this," Trufflehunter growled.
"How handsomely?"
"Enough for you to build a life outside of here," Caspian said. "That's what you want, isn't it?"
Everyone fell silent; even Nikabrik had nothing snide to say. Ina searched Caspian's eyes for the lie, but she found none. The boy knew he'd struck himself a bargain and looked smug, yet his eyes were not unkind. Perhaps he, too, knew what it felt like to not belong.
A life outside of here. Ina's heart sang at the thought. There is no guarantee that she would survive to live that life—rebelling against Miraz was deadly business. But she was tired of her days spent pickpocketing, stealing just enough to buy the next meal or rent a room for the night. She was tired of Nikabrik's cold glares every time she came home, reminding her that she didn't belong. Trufflehunter has always treated her like family, but their agreement would soon expire: the Narnians had decided that he was only allowed to let her stay until she turned sixteen. That would be next year. She was running out of time.
And so, despite Trufflehunter's caution, she looked right into Caspian's dark eyes, and felt her lips curve into a grin.
"Deal," she said.