Unluckily, I don't own Narnia. Fortunately, Isla is mine.

Edmund walked through the barren land with visible discontent. His sister, Susan, had dragged him once more for a visit to Calormen. The number of suitors to Gentle Queen's fiances had increased considerably. Especially in that country.

So while his sister was getting ready for the banquet given in honor of the King and Queen of Narnia, he went on a tour of the Tisroc palace. Oh, Aslan knew how much he hated it.

He walked slowly through the hallways crowded of people who were too busy to pay attention until he was able to get out into one of the gardens. It was a beautiful place, like an oasis in the middle of the desert. After all, Calormen was a desert. That palace wasn't different.

The garden was large, the largest of the five there. Everywhere was surrounded by wildflowers, and Edmund realized that it must be the only kind of vegetation that could grow in that country. Despite the arid climate, some fruit trees could still be seen. The fruits, though beautiful, weren't as large or succulent as those of the North. There was a kind of courtyard in the center. Ivory stone benches were set in a circle as a small lake shone in a vivid blue.

Edmund walked to the lake, stopping at the front and seeing his own reflection. He was definitely messed up. His hair was messy, and his eyes were heavy with sleep. The clothes then, oh, let's just not talk about it. He leaned closer, in order to spy on himself in his complete catastrophe. It was a mistake. There, on the edge of the lake, there was nowhere to hold, and with the earth yielding to the water, it was more likely that he had already fallen into the lake earlier. And that is what happened. In the blink of an eye, Edmund was almost full-body in the little pond of Tisroc's garden.

He wasn't surprised to find that the water was warm, and thanked Aslan for his luck. The big problem of falling into the lake, besides being wet, was that he couldn't get out. In the bottom not so deep, there was a kind of mixture of vines and clay, which was so soft that made him sink. She sighed slowly. He was trapped in a pond in the middle of Tisroc's garden.

He tried once more to get out of there, but his feet only stuck. He was about to give up trying to get out and call for someone when he heard a laugh. He turned to see a girl sitting on one of the benches with a funny look and a small smile on her face.

"Do you want some help?" she asked.

"I'm a king, I don't need your help."

Edmund knew he should not say those words, and he felt bad for it, but he was angry and the water got hotter as the sun rose in the sky.

The girl got up, sighing sweetly and annoyingly.

"I fervently hope your royalty get you out of there."

She took a few steps out of the courtyard, and Edmund squeezed his lips, sighing.

"Right." Said. "Would you help me?"

"I don't know." The girl crossed her arms in front of her. "Your words weren't what you might call gentle. I'm deeply hurt."

Edmund rolled his eyes, knowing that he wouldn't get any help from that girl.

"But..." she said again. "I'm a good person. Consider yourself lucky."

She knelt on the barely grassy floor and rested one hand on the ivory bench as she held out her other hand. Edmund held firmly in the girl's hand, who did what she could to bring the king back to the surface.

After what seemed like an eternity to both of them, he left the lake. He stared with a disgruntled sigh at the clothes he was wearing, now soaked and in many parts covered with mud and algae. Great. Fantastic.

"Well, thank you," he said without looking at the girl.

When he finally looked up, he noticed that she had sat on one of the benches and watched him grumble. She smiled minimally, amused.

She wasn't really a girl, but she was certainly not a full-grown woman. She couldn't have been more than seventeen. And she was beautiful, no doubt. Her skin was olive-colored and her hair was black as night. The eyes were a curious detail; a green that looked more like blue. And they shone.

"What is your name, lovely lady?"

The girl laughed.

"I'm not lovely, and I am sure of it." Said. "My name is Isla."

Isla is a beautiful name, he thought, and funny to pronounce. In her southern accent, her name sounded more like "eesla".

"You are a tarkheena, and I'm sure of it."

Isla raised an eyebrow. She seemed to want giving a sarcastic answer or something, but suddenly she remembered something.

"I have to go."

And she stood up.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, sir...?"

"Edmund. Only Edmund."

"Well, Sir Only Edmund."

Isla walked to one of the exits of the garden and, stumbling a few times, ran.

Edmund stood there in the garden, drenched and wondering how he would find that girl again.

English isn't my maternal language. Be kind to me.