"When I was sixteen, my mother was killed by a witch in the form of a serpent. That same witch enchanted and abducted me, and for ten years she kept me beneath the earth, in the dark places, plotting to overthrow Narnia by force and rule through me, as a puppet-king. For twenty-three hours of each day, I believed myself under a spell that she was striving to break; for one hour, I knew the truth, and she delighted in tormenting me during my hour of sanity. For ten years I lived that life, the toy and plaything of a witch, and it is not so long ago that it was ended that I can so easily throw off the effects it has had on me."

His voice is quiet.

"You say I will not hear, nor care, what you have to say. You misjudge me, Anghared. I do not understand you, nor why you do what you do, but I care yet for you. That much was not a lie."