I thought that Lucien would come and find me, but he didn't. Eventually I went looking for him because I just wanted company. I wanted to hold someone. I poked my head in the library, a logical place to look for Lucien and did a double take when I saw Uncle Corin there. Uncle Corin was not a natural for books. He was actually very different from his pensive son, being all silliness and smiles and activity. And Lucien never cared. He adored his father anyway, even though he was twice as smart and half as strong as Uncle Corin.

That afternoon they were both standing together looking over a book, both their identical blond heads bent over it together. The room was still and warm, so still that I could see the dust drifting in the sunbeams that just touched Lucien's curls and his left hand. He was explaining something to his father in his quiet voice. Uncle Corin asked a question, and Lucien burst out with "Daddy!" and rolled his eyes. Uncle Corin only shook his head and reached an arm across Lucien's shoulders and laid a warm, heavy hand there.

Lucien brushed his hand over the page and his eyes grew pensive and took a sad cast. I thought to rush in and hug him, but Uncle Corin beat me to it. He was growing sentimental, and he sniffed as he said to his son. "I know. I know." That was all Lucien needed to hear, and he laid his trusting head down on his father's shoulder, not taking his hand off the page.

I turned away. Lucien had someone to understand; he didn't need me. He was getting better, and suddenly I remembered. Aslan had answered my prayer. I smiled a little bit as I retreated down the silent hall, trying to think of why I might have a lump in my throat.

Somewhere else in the castle, Anna was sitting with her mother. Aunt Amelia was soothing her daughter with identical fire-bright hair, nursing her child through grief. I thought of my Mama, who would have held me and rocked me until I stopped being afraid. I tried to recreate her whisper when I heard silk rustling, and some nights when I was laying in my bed it almost worked. Mama always made me feel better when I was sad or sick. Dimly I remembered my first night at Cair Paravel, when the gaggle of large women tried to strip my clothes off me, and when I hid myself in the corner they clucked with such loud disapproval I thought I would be sent away. Then Mama came and she held me and made everything alright and bathed me herself. She ruined a beautiful ball gown and she didn't even care.

I wanted to take care of Papa, and I wanted him to take care of me. I thought of going to him on the days when he couldn't get out of bed and feeding him tea and toast and curling up with him. Maybe we could look into our identical eyes and see one another. He lost his best friend and his…his what? His husband. That was the right word, I was sure. And I lost the same two people, my Mama and my Dada. We only had each other.

But Papa never cried. He stared a lot, and when I curled in bed next to him, he turned away. There was nothing to do but brush my fingers over his shoulderblade and tell him I loved him, then go away. I wanted to help Papa, but I had no idea what to do.

I wandered the halls with slow steps, not really sure of where I was going. I wasn't even paying attention, my head was so full of Papa and the comfort Mama might have given. When I looked up, I was in the wing of the castle full of privy chambers and conference rooms. One of the doors was open, and the same still sort of sunlight poured in, lighting up Dash as he bent over papers. No one had given any thought to working for months, but there Dash was, plugging away as Uncle Peter would have done. He sat hunched over the table with his elbow by the document, leaning his forehead on the heel of his hand. He looked so tight and worried I longed to go to him. I wanted to be the person who understood him. I wanted him to understand me. I decided I was going to break through the glass that separated us. I started to step into the room, a tentative smile growing on my face. I would sit next to him as we had in the school room and we would get through all the work together. The green was hidden under the quiet snow; we couldn't race into it and make love afterwards, but at least we would be together for awhile. Then a faun came tapping into view: not Tumnus, but another advisor. Dash looked up at this advisor, his face tight with concentration. I had to turn away. There was no room for me.

There was a night where Papa was sitting with us at the table eating soup slowly, as though he were an invalid. Lucien was trying to talk to him about a book he was reading while I held his hand and Dash watched over us closely. I glanced at him, letting him see my glimmer of hope.

Aunt Amelia strode in; Anna was, as ever, in her wake. She dropped a ledger on the table, and it landed with a definitive thud, so that I heard it before I looked at it. We all turned to glance.

"I found that among Peter's papers," she announced, looking at Papa.

Lucien raised his eyebrows and leaned forward to examine it. "It has the royal seals on it—all four of them." He looked up. "What is it?"

Papa eyed the ledger for a long moment, fretting his dry lips together. His pale cheeks went a shade paler and he took a moment to say "The royal will. You remember when they made it. After Edmund…" His voice trembled and he broke off as he remembered the accident. Dada had a perverse fit at the end of the summer and challenged Papa to the joust. More often than not Papa lost at chess and at swordplay, but he was the best jouster in the known world. He knocked Dada from his horse, and it was a narrow escape. Dada could have been killed; he was nearly paralyzed. After the accident he became obsessed with the idea of settling his affairs, and we all thought him ridiculous. None of us ever imagined the act would be so timely.

"Do you think we ought to open it?" Uncle Corin asked, screwing up his mouth doubtfully.

"This is the occasion it was written for," Aunt Amelia answered, her lips pressed thin. "Peter would have wanted us to. They all would have."

Uncle Erech nodded, eyeing the will sadly. "Alright then."

All of us children were mute. We didn't know what the will would say about our futures, what dictums it would have about Dash, Anna, and Lucien taking their places as kings and queens. Papa must have seen something of this in our faces, for he smiled thinly and rubbed his eyes. "It's just the will. What they left us. The Papers of Succession are elsewhere. It's alright to open it."

No one moved for a long moment until Lucien drew the ledger to him and broke the beribboned seals, each stamped with a separate signet ring. His grey eyes scanned the creamy paper, and he read aloud in a low murmur, "We, the sovereigns of Narnia by gift of Aslan, by election, by prescription, and by conquest, being of sound mind and body do hereby divide the possessions of the crown and our personal effects among our well beloved family: our spouses, Erech, Prince of Narnia and Amelia, Princess of Narnia, Corin, Prince of Narnia and Archenland, and Peridan, Lord of Narnia, and our children, Dashiel, heir of Susan, Juliette, heir of Edmund, Susannah, heir of Peter, and Lucien, heir of Lucy."

There was some more official language, but I wasn't listening to it. As soon as I heard myself named as Dada's heir—not his adopted daughter in name only, but his heir in a legally binding document—I gasped quietly and bit the inside of my lip. Papa's hand closed over my forearm, and he murmured to me, "It was always that way, Juliette. From the day he told me we were going to get you."

I nodded in silence, waiting for Lucien to finish. When he did, he flipped the page. "First is the jewels and plate," he announced.

Anna stood up. "Then let's go to the treasury."

We all filed from the dining chamber into the Great Hall. Six months before there was always someone in the Great Hall. Some Narnians would come to genuflect before the four thrones even when no one was sitting in them—the power of the Prophecy was that great. Now all four thrones were draped in black, and it was a somber, chilling sight to come into the dimly lit hall and face their emptiness. We all stopped in a cluster somewhere in the middle of the room, and I felt Papa grip my arm harder now. I said a quick prayer that I could keep him with me. I needed him right then.

Finally Lucien licked his lips and pressed them together and walked up to the dais. He examined the thrones closely, his eyes unreadable. He brushed his hand over the high back of his mother's throne, then walked to the other side and lifted the edge of the black cloth on Dada's. He touched the marble arm and drew in a breath. In the quiet of the Great Hall I could hear him humming his lullaby under his breath. After he stood there awhile he looked up and stretched out a hand to Anna. "Come on," he said in a broken voice.

She nodded and ran to take his hand, and together they led the way to the door behind the thrones. Because I needed to distract myself, I counted the sixteen steps to the bottom as I held on to Papa's arm. I noticed that Dash had not said a word since Aunt Amelia brought in the ledger, but I felt him walking behind me.

When we were all gathered at the bottom of the stairs, Lucien cleared his throat a little. Uncle Corin held a torch aloft so he could read, and Lucien began to do so in a quiet steady voice. I felt my stomach churn as he did, for what would I have? Dada had named me, but that didn't mean anything. The others might not have left me anything.

But they did. I had all of Aunty Lucy's dresses, and Uncle Peter's coronation robes so rich with the finest embroidery done in real gold thread. Dada had left me something far better than any of his jewels – the entire music room was to be mine, all the scrolls, all his old sheet music. Dada also left Dash his lute, and I couldn't help but wish he would come and play it with me. I turned away from this thought when Lucien said my name.

"To Juliette, my dear daughter, I leave my engagement ring and Dash's christening gown which I embroidered and all of the jewels indicated in the ledger." Lucien looked over the edge of the book and gave me a nod and a tiny smile.

Uncle Erech turned away abruptly and strode through the glittering piles to grab the ring. He came back and pressed it into my palm, closing my fingers around it. The sharp stone dug into my hand, and somehow that was comforting. "It's right that she give it to you," he said. "She always wanted her girl to have it."

I nodded quickly, trying not to let the tears overwhelm me as I looked up at him. He touched my cheek. "Please, Uncle Erech," I said haltingly. "Will you keep it for me? Until I…for when I need it?"

He laid his hand on my head. "Yes, Flower. Of course."

I tried to smile my gratitude as I looked up at Uncle Erech, who was so tall and solid above me, but it was hard to smile. I squeezed the ring tight in my fist and thought of all the promises it meant between Mama and Uncle Erech. I wondered if Dash was watching me. I wondered if he still knew my mind as well as his. I tried not to wish I had some tangible proof of his promise, not just the faded Green, dead now under the winter snows.

"The gifts," Lucien announced softly, and we all turned. These were the magic gifts from Father Christmas, who returned to Narnia when the royal children came and the winter started to fade. Everyone knew the story, and everyone knew the weight of the gifts. The sword which killed the wolf. The horn which called for aid. The cordial which had cured Lucien's illness at last.

He read from the book. "I Peter, High King of Narnia, do hereby leave the sword Rhindon, my first sword, and its shield to my beloved daughter Susannah, who I do not doubt has the strength of spirit to wield them."

Anna's face went pale, almost white and she stood still as if she were frozen in one of Papa's paintings. She watched as Dash went to retrieve Uncle Peter's gifts from their place. When he handed them to Anna, I noticed her hands were shaking.

We all stepped closer to inspect the shining silver shield emblazoned with the luscious lion rampant. The color of that lion was a truer red than I had ever seen, and the shield so carefully polished and so bright that it picked up all the light from the surrounding torches and glowed with it. The shield was a magnificent thing, befitting a Magnificent King. As I stared at it, I remembered seeing Uncle Peter as King, mounted on his horse in shining armor, sitting on his throne in the Great Hall. He was such a tender Uncle that sometimes I forgot he was High King altogether, until I saw a glimpse of him as the people saw him.

Anna pulled the sword from the scabbard, and the scrape and ring of it echoed off the stone walls of the treasure chamber. In that metallic note we could hear a thousand sounds: Uncle Peter's rich and merry laugh, the warm voice he used with Aunt Amelia and Anna, his purposeful footfalls down the halls of the castle, his merry shout from the tiltyard. I almost expected to turn around and see him there, laughing and saying "Why, what's the matter? You didn't really think us gone, did you?" In fact, I looked over my shoulder, but all I saw were shadows.

One glance at Anna's face told me she heard something of her beloved Papa as well. When the echo subsided, her eyes filled with tears and the arm which held the sword Rhindon aloft began to droop. Aunt Amelia stepped forward to guide her wrist so that the tip of the sword might not scrape against the flagstones and dull. Together they sheathed the sword, and we all stood still and silent, too full of memory to speak.

Finally, Lucien continued to read slowly, in a soft voice. "I, Queen Susan, bequeath my gifts as follows: To my beloved son Dashiel, I leave my bow and quiver of arrows so that his aim might always be true." Dash took the bow and arrows down and ran his fingers over the beautifully carved bow. He strung it carefully and pulled it back, releasing it with a high musical twang that was as much full of Mama as the sound of the sword was full of Uncle Peter. I pictured her saying to me "Don't cry, dear heart," and somehow that made the lump in my throat impossible to swallow.

Lucien continued to read. "And to my dear daughter Juliette, I leave my horn, the magic horn of Narnia, so that she may know help is never far away and she is never alone."

Dash pulled the bow over his shoulder and went to take the horn down from its place. It was a beautiful thing, carved of ivory, and though it did not weigh very much, Dash held it reverently in his two hands. He carried it to me, and held it out. I felt his eyes on me, and when I reached out to take the horn, our fingers brushed. For a moment I looked up into his eyes, his blue eyes which were exactly like his mother's, deep as a velvet summer night. My fingers curled around the little horn and I clutched it to me. I saw it slung on Mama's hip, as it always had been. She had only winded it twice.

Lucien was looking carefully at the horn, his head tilted. He stepped toward me so that Dash was obliged to back up, and he touched the mouth of the horn with the tips of his fingers. "Whenever Aunt Susan blew this horn, it had the power to call Uncle Peter to her. If we blew it now, perhaps we could bring them back."

I looked at Papa. His pupils contracted so that his eyes were almost entirely green, that rare sea green I had only ever seen in my own eyes. "We could," he said, and his voice was strangely tight.

I clutched the horn to me, looking between Papa and Lucien. Both of them had such strange looks on their faces, as if they were starving and saw a banquet laid before them. But I thought—the horn only called Uncle Peter. Both times it was he who had appeared, not Dada or Aunty Lucy. And it was Mama who winded it…

"No," I said in a clear voice which also trembled. It was like the long, sustained note of a flute, just a touch vibrato. "I know…I know that it could work and they could come back. But what if only Uncle Peter returned? We would be without Dada, and Mama, and Aunty Lucy. He would be without them…there have always been four. And what if…what if Aslan wills that they should have gone, that they will return to save Narnia again?" I shook my head, tears spilling over. "I don't know. I don't know, but I feel that we shouldn't."

Dash slid his arms around my shoulders and pulled me close to his warmth. "Then we won't wind it." He looked around at everyone. "We won't."

They all nodded, looking somber and blank. I thought for a moment Papa might collapse but for Uncle Erech supporting him. I couldn't feel their despair. I turned the horn over in my hands and felt Mama there, watching me. I whispered in the very softest of voices, "I'm sorry, Mama. I should have known. I should have known that I was really your little girl all along."

Lucien shut the book with a snap and looked up at us, his eyes full. "I am to have Mama's dagger and her cordial." Slowly, he walked to where these gifts were hung and retrieved them himself. He weighed the diamond bottle in his hand, studying it, his brow tense. He must have felt the same impulse I did about the horn, for he looked around and all of us, screwed up his mouth and undid the stopper.

The scent of the cordial filled the room. The smell of it was like the sound of Aunty Lucy's laugh: warm and rich, and yet somehow also light and free. No one in the world could be sad after hearing Aunty Lucy laugh, and no one could be hurt after smelling the cordial. A light kindled in everyone's eyes, and we stood looking at each other, letting the delicious smell creep inside us. I felt Dash's arm tighten around me, and I looked up at him. He smile a very little bit and pressed a kiss to my forehead, right at the hairline.

I was about to turn into him and bury my head against his shirt when Uncle Corin stepped forward and plucked something off one of the piles of jewels. "I told her we didn't lose this! She blamed me for ages." He held out a little amethyst ring in the palm of his hand. "I got it for her in Calormen because she always liked amethysts, and Susan would never buy them for her. She said they didn't suit Lucy."

Papa stuck out his tongue a bit. "They don't. Are you color blind, Corin?"

Uncle Corin laughed warmly. "Perhaps!" As he was laughing, Lucien peered at the little ring and smiled a bit.

Papa took the ring off them and turned it over in his hands. "I remember when you bought this. You were still sulking because Susan wouldn't have you." He raised an eyebrow.

Uncle Corin twisted his face comically. "Broke my heart, she did." He gave a mock sigh. "Good thing I had Lucy to comfort me."

"Well said, friend," Uncle Erech said, clapping Uncle Corin on the back.

Meanwhile, Lucien was picking among the piles, and he came back with more treasure in his hands. "Look," he said, holding out a medallion and a pin.

Aunt Amelia stepped forward and took the medallion. "I remember when he used to wear this." She looked around, her cheeks tinged pink as she decided to share the story. "When we first fell in love, he would come visit me in the Borough and he was always so…kingly. It used to irritate me so much!"

The rest of the night was a treasure hunt, sifting through the glittering jewels for memories. There were so many, more than we could recount. We went upstairs feeling very rich.

I brought the horn with me. The sight of it reminded me so strongly of Mama, and I liked the feeling it gave me when I cradled it close. I didn't know if I had made the right choice, but in that moment it seemed more important to hold on to hope. That was more magical than the horn, and that was why the horn left us in despair when the cordial let us laugh, just a little bit.

When I got into bed I laid the ivory horn on the pillow next to me and looked at it. I thought about Mama, and how she would braid my hair and tuck me in and sing me lullabies. She hadn't given birth to me, but I was still her girl. Her daughter. And Dada left me the music room because it was always that way. I belonged to them. I belonged, and the bond was so strong that it lasted even when they were gone. I could not help but shed a couple of grateful tears.

A/N: Just for reference, the detail about Lucy liking amethysts was borrowed (or basely stolen, whichever you prefer) from Andi Horton's A Sea of Golden Sand, which has served to inspire me on several occasions, particularly when it comes to Corin and Lucy. I don't usually do the begging for reviews thing (hey, if I put it out there and you read it that's good enough) but I'm always intrigued to hear people's thoughts on the spouses and the children, whether they're worthy or compelling characters. I do intend to keep the Pevensies as absent-present characters throughout, by the way. Despite the fact that I've always been disappointed that there's no Peter in The Horse and His Boy, I've always liked the way Lewis characterizes Peter without us ever actually seeing the character, so that's an experiment I'm trying here.