The gunslingers both take her hands as she offers them, and he thinks he hears Cuthbert's harsh, indrawn breath. Caspian spreads his hand over her side and lowers his forehead to a moment to her hair. "Beloved," he murmurs. "Aye, Su, we know it well."

In this, he thinks, he can speak for them all. The three of them here – and he knows without question they're far from the only ones who love Susan – would all do anything for her, and that gladly. Their love for her and hers for them; the love of the tree-sisters' for green and growing things; all of it weaving together into an enchantment stronger, he's sure, than any wicked glamour could ever be.