His arm tightens around her in reflex, and he casts a quick glance down at her, at the way her hand tightens in his shirt. But then she sits up, holding herself straight, and Caspian's heart aches at her bravery, her determined cheerfulness.

"A little tea wouldn't go amiss," he tells her. Little as he wants her to be away from him, he knows now he must speak with the gunslingers. "Reep, won't you go and help her?"

"Of course, Sire." The Mouse bounds from the armchair and stands nearby, politely waiting for Susan.