It was easy to get lost in the vast royal stables of Telmar. One of Elena's duties was to guide confused nobles to the correct places. The nobles were often embarrassed to have been lost, so they were gruff and rude to Elena. Once she'd escorted the King himself from the carriage house to the stalls where the war horses were kept. King Miraz was embarrassed, but he still thanked Elena. He gave her a silver Eagle for her trouble.

"Stay a moment, girl," King Miraz said. "You're Diego's daughter, are you not?"

"I am, Your Majesty," Elena said. Diego had been King Caspian IX's trusted and prized horse trainer. Miraz had banished Diego with the seven great Lords of Telmar shortly after his brother's death. No one seemed to know why.

"Do you have your father's aptitude for horses?"

Elena fidgeted. "I believe so, Your Majesty."

"Then I would appreciate your advice." King Miraz gestured to the row of stalls. "Which of these would make a fitting gift for your Prince's sixteenth birthday?"

Elena pursed her lips. "That depends on the steed's intended purpose, Majesty."

"A war horse, obviously. Are you stupid, girl?"

"Sorry, Your Majesty. I meant—does Your Majesty intend for His Highness to ride into battle any time soon?"

"That is none of your concern," said Miraz loftily. "It will be His Highness's first war horse."

I see, Elena thought. So not really a war horse. She paced slowly up the row of stalls. Beleriand is too tall for the Prince. Hasfush is too fast, Idgrain too temperamental. Stormfir is calm. Destrier is obedient. She halted.

"One of these, I think, Your Majesty," Elena said. "The gray, Stormfir, is calm for a war horse, and Destrier is very obedient."

Miraz contemplated the two horses, stroking his beard. "Obedience is of more value in a good soldier. The black horse, I think."

"His name is Destrier, Your Majesty," Elena said, "and he is an excellent horse."

"Very well, then," said Miraz. "Arrange to have him transported to the palace stables for the Prince's especial use."

Elena bowed. "Very good, Your Majesty."

Miraz stared at one end of the stable, then the other. "Which way to the main courtyard?" he asked quietly.

Elena resisted the urge to chuckle. "Straight down this way, Your Majesty. Turn left when you see the white carriage horses."

"Thank you." Miraz flipped Elena another coin and strode away.

Elena rubbed the two coins together between her fingers. A silver and a copper. Together they were more than she was paid in a month. She would finally be able to replace her boots, which were a little small and almost worn through.

"Hsst—girl!"

Elena started, and whirled around. It wouldn't do for any of the "real" stablehands to catch her idling. "Forgive me, sir!" But there was no one there. Elena frowned. "Am I hearing things?"

"No, no. Turn around." The voice was coming from the horse's stalls. It's a fugitive, Elena thought.

"I ought to report you to the guard," she said, turning to face the stalls.

"Oh, please don't. Then I'd never escape."

Elena stared. Stormfir's mouth was moving—almost as if he were talking—but surely he was just chewing something?

"Don't gape like that, girl. Come into my stall so we can talk properly. No one must hear me speak."

"You're talking," said Elena.

"So are you," said the horse irritably. "Speech does not guarantee intelligence. Come here at once!"

Elena opened the door to Stormfir's stall and slipped inside. She pulled a comb out of her pocket and pretended to work on his mane. "How are you talking?"

"I'm a Talking Horse," said Stormfir as if it were obvious. "Haven't you heard of Talking Animals, girl? Are the old stories completely forgotten in Narnia?"

"No," said Elena, "but they're just that—stories."

"No, they aren't," said Stormfir. "They're real. Who do you think lived in Narnia before the Telmarines?"

"Narnia was a wild and savage place before the Telmarines came," Elena said. "Our first king, Caspian the Conqueror—"

"And who do you think he conquered?" Stormfir interrupted.

"Wild men," said Elena. "Bandits. Criminals."

"No," said Stormfir. "Fauns, and Satyrs, and Dryads, and Talking Beasts. Those were the people of Narnia—are the people of Narnia."

"Well, what happened to them all?" Elena asked.

"What do you think? We went into hiding after the Telmarines took charge. It was dangerous to be a real Narnian."

"So how did you get here?"

"I'm in hiding, aren't I? I come from a long line of captive Talking Horses. They thought slavery was better than being on the run and in hiding. When you're a fugitive, nobody bothers to change your shoes or comb your mane. I say, a matted mane is infinitely preferable to slavery. I'm going to escape, girl, and you're going to come with me."

"Why do you think I'd help you? I have a good life here. I'm fed, I have a place to sleep, I get paid—"

"I've been watching you. I knew your father. He was a good man, as Telmarines go. But the bad Telmarines made him go. Now you're here. They're not kind to you. You barely get enough to eat—look how skinny you are! I know you're just a foal, but still. This is no life for you. You've suffered under the Telmarines, just like the Narnians have. We'll go live with them, and we'll be happier."

"If what you're saying is true, and there are Narnians out there, in hiding," said Elena, "what makes you think they'd accept me? I'm human, and a Telmarine. They won't want me."

"Maybe not, but I'd convince them. 'She helped me escape. She knows how to brush manes. Let her stay.'"

Elena snorted. "That's a compelling argument, but I can't go live without people. I need shoes, and clothes, and a bed that isn't made of grass."

"You could have that. You think Dwarfs sleep in the grass and go barefoot?"

"Dwarfs!" Elena gasped. "You really think-?"

"I don't know, but I believe," said Stormfir. "Sometimes belief is all we have."

Elena shook her head. "I can't. This is my home. Everyone and everything I've ever known is here. I can't go running to the woods chasing fairytales. Besides, the woods are haunted."

Stormfir shook his mane. "Telmarine nonsense. If the woods are 'haunted,' it's the Dryads dancing."

"Dryads!"

"Hush!" Stormfir flicked his ears. "Someone's coming!"

"I can't be in here with you!" Elena hissed. "I'll get in trouble."

"Then hide under my belly or get out," Stormfir said.

Elena fumbled with the latch, and stumbled into the aisle just as one of the senior grooms rounded the corner. He scowled at her.

"What are you doing, girl? Get away! Those horses are worth five times your life!"

"I thought I saw a rat," Elena said.

"A rat?" The groom shoved her aside and peered into Stormfir's stall. "I don't see anything. You'd better not have harmed this horse."

"I didn't touch him," Elena said.

"Mind you don't." The groom cuffed her on the back of the head. "Was His Majesty in here earlier?"

"Yes," said Elena. "He was lost, so I showed him here. He wants Destrier sent up to the palace for the Prince."

"Destrier?" The groom frowned. "That timid idiot of a horse?"

Elena shrugged. "That's what His Majesty said. I didn't question him."

"Of course you didn't. It's not your place." The groom swatted her again. "Get out of here, girl. The carriage horses need their stalls mucked out."

"Yes, sir," said Elena, and scurried away. She wanted to say goodbye to Stormfir, but of course she couldn't in front of the groom. He nickered after her, as if he understood.