Chapter the Second: Inquiring Minds

"So? Susan?"

Peter rested his hand on the silver knight, studying the chess pieces around it before removing his hand again. "You were right. There is some chap here in Narnia."

Edmund smirked. "Told you. Who is it?"

"That would be prying," Peter replied virtuously, moving a bishop and taking Edmund's rook.

"Should have stuck with the knight," Edmund lectured, capturing the horse with his golden queen. "Check."

Peter sat back in his chair, surrendering the game with a wave of his hand. He was far more interested in talking right now. They were seated in one of the gardens, relaxing now that all their guests and the ambassidors had finally departed. Secreted away in a bower overgrown with wisteria, the two kings were escaping not only the heat of the day, but all their duties and attendants as well.

"Prying's allowed when it's your sister," Edmund insisted, setting up the chess pieces again. "Lucy would have had it out of her in a thrice."

"She wouldn't have told me regardless," replied the High King. He stood to pour them each some more wine and handed Edmund one of the goblets. "I did beg her to tell him, though. I'm sure we'll find out who it is soon enough."

"Any ideas?"

"Nary a one, except whom I'd rather it not be. You?"

Edmund looked up at his brother. The bruises on Peter's face were fading to an ugly yellow and his leg was out of the splint, though he still wasn't very mobile.

"No. Sit before you fall."

"I've been doing little else," complained Peter, though he did obey.

"Good." He swirled the wine in his cup. "Come on, Peter. We're clever. I'm just, you're magnificent. We can figure it out. Who's this lucky...whatever he is. Narnian."

"Well so far the only two that are definitely eliminated are you and me."

"Praise Aslan," said Edmund, saluting with his wine. Peter followed suit and after they drained their goblets Edmund suggested, "Celer."

"Married."

"Satyr Tandaric."

"I wouldn't allow it in this lifetime."

"Vorios."

"A field cook? A very bad field cook?"

"Taval."

"The army's foremost confirmed bachelor?"

"Rask."

"Too hairy."

"Bobinook."

"He's a third her size."

"Calbabuffin."

"He's three times her size."

"Polomon."

"I'm fairly certain she prefers her suitors to have two eyes," laughed Peter, enjoying the silly interrogation.

Suddenly Edmund became still, a deep and thoughtful expression on his face. Peter waited, knowing that aspect.

"Do you think she'd be adverse to a suitor with more than two legs?"

"That would depend. Who?"

The younger king smiled. "Oreius."

Peter sank back in his chair, astonished at the notion of the Centaur general being the object of Susan's affections, but his name made more sense than anyone else he could think of at the moment. "You think? She did say she has always admired this fellow and I know she's liked Oreius from the start."

"We've known him for years. And she does seem a bit shy around him lately."

"I think of all the eligible bachelors in Narnia, I mind him the least." Peter slowly smiled. "She could do worse."

"I was going to say she couldn't do much better!"

"We're agreed." The High King raised his goblet. "Here's to hope," he said.

"Here, here," cheered Edmund, and they finished their wine.

"Think she said anything yet?"

"I'm sure we'll be the fourth and fifth people to know after Lucy and Oreius."

"If it's Oreius."

"Oh, who else could it be? Really?"

For that Peter had no real answer. Instead he moved one of the pawns. "It's your move."

Edmund snorted. "Only in this game."