He nods, straightening the saddle blanket, lifting the heavy saddle up and onto Kiseki's back as quietly as he can. Leather creaks and metal jangles, small sounds that he never notices in the stables at Milliways, because it never matters there whether someone can hear him or not.

Every motion of an impatient hoof, every muffled clink of stirrups moving, every rustle of straw is something that can give them away. He remembers another night, long ago, in another cold stone castle: Destrier had been saddled and ready for him then, and now he offers up another long-deserved thanks for Doctor Cornelius' forethought.

He may be older now, wiser, more able to take care of himself and not fleeing without a plan, but that does not make the consequences of being caught any less severe.

Saddled and ready, he checks the sword in its scabbard, and leads Kiseki out of the stall, clucking gently, as soothing as he can. The gelding is nervous: he can feel the tension in the air, in his master's hands, and Caspian forces himself to take a deep breath, calm his mind.

"I'll watch for you," he promises. Of course she can't stay, of course she must come back to this place, but now that he knows the truth of her world, he'll not rest easy until he sees her again.