miraz goes on, "i suppose you think i didn't know who and what you were when i first got involved with you. to tell the truth, i knew exactly who you were: susan pevensie, con artist, member of the infamous pevensie family, sister to peter pevensie, at the time doing five years in fox river penitentiary for grand larceny. i know your rap sheet, susan, or perhaps i should say, your lack thereof. i've spoken to some of your associates, to other men and women you've robbed. i even spoke to the detectives who investigated your case when you and your siblings went missing from finchley all those years ago."
susan goes very still. no one knows that. no one knows that; they've never spoken about it to anyone else, not in the decade and a half since peter woke her in her bed and said, "we have to go."
she hears the sound of footsteps from behind as miraz moves closer to her. "i even," he continues, "spoke to your parents. they miss you, you know. they wonder where you've gone. where you've all gone."
he pauses, maybe waiting for some reaction from her, but susan has given her parents for lost a long time ago -- maybe she'd even given them up long before they left finchley.
"i am going to take the gag out," he announces. "do try not to scream."
unlike some people, susan knows when and when not scream. miraz's hands are familiar on her face and susan doesn't flinch away.
someone strikes a light. she's in a parking garage, and the man holding the light is the head of miraz's personal bodyguard, glozelle. he looks tired, she notes.
miraz crouches down in front of her. "susan, susan, susan," he says. "why are you here?"
"my ruby earrings," she says blandly. "i think i left them in new york the last time we were here, and i wanted them back. my brother gave them to me when i was sixteen."
"oh, yes," miraz says. "when you started sleeping together."
susan blanches, because how the hell -- and then she says, "do you have them, then? i'd hate to have to tell peter i lost them."
"i can't see how he'd notice," miraz says, "given that he's out of the country right now. what has he done?"
"well, if you're so well-informed," susan says, "why don't you tell me?"
- -
caspian had spent his childhood shuttled around between skyscraper to skyscraper, between las vegas and new york and los angeles and miami and boston and seattle. he knows these buildings like he knows his own crappy chicago apartment. it's not hard to follow the maintenance tunnels to the parking garage and the hollow echo of voices, lucy pevensie close behind him.
he lifts the grate up carefully, suddenly eye to eye with the back of one of miraz's guard's boots. his uncle's back is to him, but susan is looking straight at him. she makes no sign she's seen him.
no subject
susan goes very still. no one knows that. no one knows that; they've never spoken about it to anyone else, not in the decade and a half since peter woke her in her bed and said, "we have to go."
she hears the sound of footsteps from behind as miraz moves closer to her. "i even," he continues, "spoke to your parents. they miss you, you know. they wonder where you've gone. where you've all gone."
he pauses, maybe waiting for some reaction from her, but susan has given her parents for lost a long time ago -- maybe she'd even given them up long before they left finchley.
"i am going to take the gag out," he announces. "do try not to scream."
unlike some people, susan knows when and when not scream. miraz's hands are familiar on her face and susan doesn't flinch away.
someone strikes a light. she's in a parking garage, and the man holding the light is the head of miraz's personal bodyguard, glozelle. he looks tired, she notes.
miraz crouches down in front of her. "susan, susan, susan," he says. "why are you here?"
"my ruby earrings," she says blandly. "i think i left them in new york the last time we were here, and i wanted them back. my brother gave them to me when i was sixteen."
"oh, yes," miraz says. "when you started sleeping together."
susan blanches, because how the hell -- and then she says, "do you have them, then? i'd hate to have to tell peter i lost them."
"i can't see how he'd notice," miraz says, "given that he's out of the country right now. what has he done?"
"well, if you're so well-informed," susan says, "why don't you tell me?"
-
-
caspian had spent his childhood shuttled around between skyscraper to skyscraper, between las vegas and new york and los angeles and miami and boston and seattle. he knows these buildings like he knows his own crappy chicago apartment. it's not hard to follow the maintenance tunnels to the parking garage and the hollow echo of voices, lucy pevensie close behind him.
he lifts the grate up carefully, suddenly eye to eye with the back of one of miraz's guard's boots. his uncle's back is to him, but susan is looking straight at him. she makes no sign she's seen him.