CHAPTER ELEVEN:
NO TIME TO DIE

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"CAKES AND KETTLEDRUMS," EXCLAIMED Trumpkin, aghast. "That's your next big plan? Sending a little girl into the darkest part of the forest? Alone!"

Tensions were running high in the aftermath of Miraz' unwelcome arrival on their doorstep. The threat of his military presence was prominent; a noose that tightened around their necks with every weighted breath. Each time Rosalie closed her eyes, she saw the grassy fields disappearing beneath the dark, hulking mass of armour-clad bodies. They outnumbered the Narnians by the thousands without effort. She felt trapped in the How's shadowed hallways, desperate for a way out that would not come anytime soon, because of them, that never-ending army who would cut her down in an instant.

"It's our only chance," Peter insisted from where he stood in the centre of the semi-circle they had made around Aslan's table.

"And she won't be alone," added Susan, gripping Lucy's hand tight in hers.

In Rosalie's opinion, Trumpkin's concern wasn't unfounded. So much could (and would) go wrong if they followed through with this plan they'd come up with. Peter hoped to cause some kind of spectacle that would be enough of a distraction for Lucy to slip undetected into the woods where, by some miracle, she would then find Aslan and get him to help them defeat the Telmarines for good. But what if this didn't work? What if one of the soldiers noticed Lucy fleeing — or worse, Alysanne? What if Aslan wasn't even there? It was beyond dangerous, even with Susan deciding to go with her. Two against an army... they'd stand no chance.

Trumpkin turned to Lucy, his face slack with fear. "Haven't enough of us died already?"

Trufflehunter laid a furred paw on Trumpkin's arm. "Nikabrik was my friend, too. But he lost hope. Queen Lucy hasn't, and neither have I."

"For Aslan," Reepicheep declared, drawing his sword and saluting in Peter's direction.

Rosalie couldn't help but ask the question that had plagued her mind since the plan came to fruition. "But what if Lucy doesn't find him?"

Edmund shifted uneasily beside her, his shoulder brushing against hers. Peter's jaw clenched in protest, but surely he must've seen what she did? He had been the first to doubt Lucy when she claimed to have seen Aslan in the woods. That couldn't have changed so quickly.

"We have to try," Lucy answered, flashing a promising smile at Rosalie.

"Then I'm going with you," said Trumpkin.

"No," she shook her head. "We need you here."

"We have to hold them off until Lucy and Susan get back," Peter said.

"If I may," Caspian, who had previously been silent, emerged from the shadowed bottom of a set of stairs where his Professor friend sat in quiet contemplation. Everyone turned to Caspian, even Peter, expectant. "Miraz may be a tyrant and a murderer but as king, he is subject to the traditions and expectations of his people. There is one in particular that may buy us some time."

And so it was decided. Peter would challenge Miraz to a duel to the death. Edmund, accompanied by two of the Narnians, would approach the enemy camp with the suggestion as soon as possible. Rosalie wanted to be sick from just the thought. Miserably, she approached Edmund in his room. She knocked on the half-open door, watching as he fastened his chest plate firmly in place. She blinked, and in her mind she saw that chest plate stained with his blood, a vacant stare in his eyes that not even Lucy's cordial could erase.

"Come in," he said, gaze flicking to her then just as quickly darted away. "What is it, Rosie?"

"I don't think this is a good idea," she blurted, feeling the words leaving her mouth before she could stop them.

Edmund paused. "I know you don't. But we've got no other options. We've been backed into a corner."

"What if Miraz agrees and Peter gets hurt?" He sighed, letting his hands fall from the leather straps, but Rosalie wasn't done. "Or what if he doesn't accept and we have to fight that army? What if you don't come back from his camp, Ed? What if Alysanne—"

"Rosie, my love, you're going to drive yourself crazy thinking about the what ifs." He was right. She knew he was. She hung her head in shame, only relaxing when Edmund moved closer and she felt the feather-light touch of his soft lips on the crown of her head. Then, the gentle but persistent nudge of his index finger against her chin, coaxing her to look at him. "And it's not for you to worry about Alysanne. Leave her to me."

"She's not after you," Rosalie whispered.

With shaky fingers, she reached up to smooth his shirt against his collarbones, assuring herself with the quick thump of his pulse beneath the pad of her finger. Edmund was alive. Edmund was unharmed. For a moment, they were both untouched by the carnage that was waiting for them. She prayed to Aslan, if he was truly out there, that he'd keep that pulse pounding beneath the warmth of Edmund's flesh. Please.

"Or maybe she'll try to take you from me," she amended, struggling to voice the words around the sudden lump in her throat. "You have to be careful, Edmund. Promise me."

Rosalie Hannigan was a girl of hope, a girl who believed that their first kiss wouldn't be their last.

"I'll be careful," Edmund agreed. "If you promise me you'll try not to worry."

The barest of smiles tugged at the corner of her mouth, like a puppet pulled apart on a string. "I'll try."

Edmund leaned down to kiss her again, Rosalie soaring like a butterfly, this time on the corner of her mouth, as if he'd accidentally gotten lost on the way to her lips. He was full of bravery until he wasn't. "I've got to go."

"Okay."

She watched him leave, cold, then disappeared to find someone — anyone, she'd even accept Peter's company — just so she wasn't on her own. There was too much to think about. Death, prophecies, death, Alysanne, death death death. It filled her up inside until there was no more room for air, for the steady beat of her heart in time with Edmund's. There was only fire. In her chest, in her lungs, in her brain. She quickened her pace, thankfully finding that someone was sitting beside Aslan's table.

Peter. He was deep in thought but he looked up when Rosalie rushed into the room, face flushed almost as red as her hair, droplets of sweat lining her brow. He frowned, rising from the low stone step beside the table where Rosalie had sat with Lucy what felt like a lifetime ago.

"Rosalie," he said her name with caution. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," she said, lying. "I'm just—"

She held out her hands in front of her, lost for words. Dimly, her palms had started to glow like hot coals.

"I take it Edmund's left," he said knowingly.

She nodded.

"He'll be fine." It sounded like he was trying to convince himself. Clearly, Peter was more worried than he let on. Leader's face, soldier's heart, but a boy's body and mind regardless of how he hated it. "Come sit with me. I've been meaning to talk to you."

Oh. Well, this could go one of two ways. Realising quickly that he wasn't asking, Rosalie moved to sit down beside him, shifting in discomfort when her shoulder accidentally touched his. This wasn't the same as Edmund's. Peter's touch was the ice to her fire, dousing out her flames, leaving her cold again, this hollow vessel with charred insides.

"I heard what the White Witch said," Peter was the first to speak. "About Alysanne, about the prophecy. Do you know what she was talking about?"

Rosalie hesitated. "I only know pieces, but I don't understand it."

There was no point in keeping it from him. She couldn't bring herself to fear his judgement anymore. There wasn't exactly a bridge to burn when it came to her relationship with Peter. If anything, he'd give her a response that wasn't affected by friendship or romance. Rosalie needed that right now.

"Does Edmund know?"

"Yes. He told me about Jadis. About what she did to him and to the four of you your first time in Narnia."

Peter was quiet for a second, gazing at the face of Aslan looking down at them from stone, stern-faced and regal as any human king or God. Peter had shaped himself in his image, somewhat. Where Edmund still had something in him that was innocent, Peter had tried his hardest to maim what made him a child. It made Rosalie sad, seeing him search for it too late.

"Alysanne was named after the White Witch's sister," she continued. "I don't know what happened to her, just that Jadis is to blame. But she was my mum. I ended up in Finchley somehow, but I was born here, because of this prophecy, because of her," she turned to Peter, feeling the lump in her throat loosen. She rushed to get the words out before her resolve faded. "If this prophecy comes down to me or Alysanne, I don't think it'll be me walking away."

"You don't know that."

"Look how easy it was for her to stab me," she argued. "I have nothing to use against her, nothing she doesn't already know and understand far better than I can. She's had her whole life to be moulded in Jadis' image. If I hadn't been called to Narnia, I never would've even found out that I can summon fire, that I have parents out there and at least one of them cared about me."

"You don't know who your dad was?" Peter asked, unsure what else to say. She was right but as indifferent as Peter could be, he knew it would break his brother's heart to let this girl go.

She shook her head, smiling sadly. "See what I mean about pieces?"

Peter didn't reply and so Rosalie went silent, both of them looking into the face of Aslan again. Rosalie found nothing, felt nothing, but the fire in her palms was gone now. She only eased up when Edmund came into the room, breathless but blissfully alive. She hadn't realised just how much time had passed.

"He's agreed," he said, looking at Peter, who had quickly risen. "We have one hour."

An hour for a lifetime. Peter hurried from the room to prepare with Edmund leaving behind him. Once again, Rosalie was alone, but the fear didn't return to crush her. She sat there, breathing deeply, Aslan still watching, uncertain of what was to come.

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A/N: This act is almost over and I'm so excited to delve into Rosalie's plot a bit more. Some of it might be confusing but I promise by the end of act two that things are going to make more sense.