Chapter 114

He stopped on the threshold.

The hut had been built for shepherds and their dogs, and it was full. Rowan on his pallet under the wall with his leg out straight. Lucien on his feet by the fire, very still. Saskia by the door with her hand on her sword hilt, not drawing it, as you might rest a hand on a gate you may or may not need to shut. And in the far corner, under the spare blanket, Lyra.

Caspian looked at each of them in turn. Rowan, and Rowan’s leg. Lucien. Saskia’s hand. The fire.

He did not look at the corner.

He stood in the doorway with the snow behind him and waited, the way my father used to wait on the threshold of my mother’s rooms, until I nodded.

“By the door,” I said. “On the floor.”

He came in, and sat down on the flags with his back to the wall beside the door, and put his hands on his knees.

***

Lucien spoke first. Of course he did.

“Caspian.”

“Lucien.”

They looked at each other across the fire, wit