Snow wondered if this what how her fifteenth birthday was supposed to be. A brightly lit ballroom, a beautiful dress, a bevy of dance partners. She hardly got to sit down, so many men wanted to dance with her. Lucy introduced Snow to some of her friends, including a handsome young duke who was clearly besotted with Lucy but danced two waltzes with Snow. Probably to ingratiate himself with Lu, Snow thought.

Susan was radiant. She moved around the ballroom like a brightly colored bird, seeing to it that everyone was having fun while having a wonderful time herself. Could I have been like that, Snow wondered. Is that what my mother was like?

Peter was very popular with the young women, Dryads, and Naiads. Snow might have liked to dance with him, but he was never available. He is very beautiful, Snow thought. He looks like a lion, with his golden hair flowing like that. If Peter is a lion, then Edmund is a panther. A graceful, dark-haired panther.

Snow and Edmund were sitting on their thrones, resting from a lively series of Narnian dances. They were so different from the few Nialban dances that Snow knew, which were stately and stiff in comparison. Mr. Tumnus had brought them wine, and was perched on the arm of Snow's chair.

"You're enjoying yourself, Your Highness?" the Faun asked.

"Very much," Snow said. "And I'm not just saying that to be polite."

Edmund smiled into his wine.

"Queen Susan certainly knows how to put together a party," Mr. Tumnus said.

"How long have you known Their Majesties?" Snow asked.

Mr. Tumnus smiled. "Oh, I've known Queen Lucy since she was a little girl and stumbled into Narnia from Spare Oom."

"Spare Oom?" Snow looked to Edmund for clarification. He offered none.

"Yes," said Tumnus. "She was fascinated by the lamppost."

"Sorry, what's a lamppost?"

"It's like a big torch, only the fire is in a little glass house at the top," said Tumnus. "I grew up in Lantern Waste, Your Highness. I've always thought it was beautiful, but I never thought much about it. Lucy asked what it was doing there, and I said I didn't know." He smiled. "She was so bright and curious. I'd never met a human, but she wasn't at all like I thought she'd be. I gave her a lovely tea, and escorted her home."

"All the way back to Spare Oom?"

"No. I'm not sure how she got back. But she returned to Narnia with her sister and brothers, and Aslan returned to us, and the rest is history."

"He's skimming over the nasty bits," Edmund said.

"Why remember the 'nasty bits,' Your Majesty, when we are all so happy now?"

"The nasty bits make us strong, so we can fight for happiness," Snow White said.

Edmund raised his glass. "Well said."

"Indeed, Your Highness," said Mr. Tumnus. "You are wise beyond your years."

Snow flushed.

Lucy came prancing onto the dais. "Why are you all sitting around like a bunch of sad mushrooms?"

"We're not mushrooms, Lu, we're just resting," Edmund said.

"And reminiscing," said Mr. Tumnus. "Do you remember, Your Majesty, the first time that we met?"

"I do!" Lucy laughed gleefully. "You asked if I were a beardless dwarf!"

"And you said that you were tallest in your class," said Mr. Tumnus. "I still have no idea what that means."

"Nor do I," Lucy said, frowning thoughtfully. "But it seemed dreadfully important at the time."

"Tallest in your class, and now you're a wee thing," Edmund said teasingly.

"Ed, be nice! Snow's the same height as me!"

"Yeah, and you're both in danger of being stepped on at any moment."

Snow gasped indignantly. Half a moment later she realized that he was only teasing. Lucy hardly seemed offended.

Peter joined them. "It looks bad if we're all clustered up here like gossiping schoolgirls," he said.

"You're probably right." Edmund drained the rest of his wine and set the glass on the floor. "Back into the fray, eh, Lu?"

"You're such a spoilsport," said Lucy, laughing.

Edmund offered his arm to Lucy, and they swept onto the dance floor. Tumnus took the tray of wine away.

"I'm afraid I haven't been a very good host to you tonight," Peter said.

"It's all right," Snow said. "You've a lot of other guests."

Peter made a face. "Yes, and they won't leave me alone. Half the nobility in the world want me to marry their daughters." He sat down on his throne. "Oof! I didn't realize how tired my feet were."

Snow laughed. "Nor did I, until I sat. Now I don't think I can get up again. I shall have to be carried upstairs."

Peter smiled.

"You know, I can't thank you enough for all you're doing for me," said Snow.

"Of course," Peter said. "You are the rightful ruler of Nialba."

"Yes, but that doesn't necessarily mean I'll be good at it."

"It'll work out. Everything will be as it should be," said Peter.

Snow said nothing.

Mr. Tumnus approached the dais again and bowed. "May I have a dance with the Princess?"

"You may."

Snow was nervous about dancing with a Faun, simply because she'd never done it before, but it was no problem. Tumnus, with his bowed goat legs, was almost exactly the same height as herself, and that made things easier. They danced a Faun jig together.

When the jig ended, the Dryad waltz started up again. Snow backed to the edge of the dance floor. The Dryad waltz was so intimate.

"Snow?" It was Edmund. "Would you like to dance this one?"

"Yes." She hesitated; surely she couldn't just place her hand on his shoulder?

Edmund took her hand and put it on his shoulder. Snow stepped closer to him, and he placed his hands on her waist. Snow gripped his elbow in her other hand, and they began the dance. Now that she was familiar with the steps, Snow felt more relaxed. It was a slow, graceful dance.

"I should bring some of these dances back to Nialba with me," she said.

"Yes." Edmund smiled. "And then you will have an excuse to invite us to balls in your palace."

"My palace isn't like Cair Paravel," Snow said apologetically. "It's a fortress, built to protect the King."

"I'm sure it's still lovely," Edmund said. "And it will be nice to be home, won't it?"

"I suppose. It will seem so dark compared to here, or the forest. I think I might feel closed in."

Edmund nodded. "But you won't be a prisoner. You can go out into the forest whenever you want."

"I'm sorry; I shouldn't be talking like that," Snow said. "Not here and now."

"We could go outside and talk, if you like."

Snow shook her head. "I shouldn't steal you away from your other guests."

"You're the guest of honor," Edmund said. "At least—I think you are. We never actually cleared that with the proper authorities."

"Proper authorities?" Snow laughed. "You're a king."

"Yes," Edmund said, "but we're bound tight by traditions we don't know or understand. This is a strange place to us, even though we've been here for ten years."

"Where are you from, really?" Snow asked. "Where is Spare Oom? I've never heard of it—not that I'm an authority on geography."

"Very far," Edmund said.

"So how did Lucy pop into Narnia for afternoon tea, and then just go home? It doesn't make any sense."

"We still don't understand it ourselves. We didn't know she'd gone."

"So your sister ran away from home, and none of you noticed?"

"That's not quite what happened." Edmund looked uncomfortable.

"But you did defeat the White Witch."

"Yes," Edmund said.

He's very terse all of a sudden, Snow thought.

"I'm sorry. I'll stop asking questions," she said.

"It's very complicated," said Edmund. "I'd rather not talk about it here and now."

They finished the dance in silence. When the music ended, King Edmund bowed. "I think I'll retire for the night," he said. "Enjoy the rest of your evening, Your Highness."

"Thank you, Your Majesty." Snow White curtsied deeply. "The hospitality of your home does you credit." She started to move away, but Edmund caught her elbow.

"Forgive me." His dark eyes were fixed earnestly on hers. "I want to make sure that someone told you how beautiful you look tonight."

Snow's face warmed. "Thank you." Lucy and Susan had told her so, and Stultibrik had been effusive, but it was different when Edmund said it. "You're very kind."

Edmund walked quickly off the dance floor. Snow watched him weave through the crowd and take the stairs out of the ballroom two at a time.

"Ed's off to bed already?" King Peter had approached without Snow noticing.

Snow had to look up to talk to Peter. "I suppose it is getting late."

"Ed's not much for parties," Peter said. He smiled. "May I have this waltz?"

"You may." Snow accepted his hand, and the dance began.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Your Highness?" Peter asked.

"Very much," Snow said. "Everyone has been so welcoming."

"I noticed you dancing with the Duke of Galma," said Peter. "How do you find him?"

Snow bit her lip. "He's very persistent," she said finally.

Peter laughed. "He is that. He's finally given up pursuing Susan, thank the Lion, but I am sorry that he's switched his attentions to you."

"It's certainly different from what I'm used to," said Snow. "But I suppose that a princess thought dead is something of a novelty, isn't it?"

"You're more than a novelty," Peter said. "Everyone is very taken with you. People keep asking me where I 'found you,' and they don't seem to believe the answer I give."

"And what answer is that?"

"That a charming stranger turned up on my doorstep claiming to be a lost princess who lives in the woods with dwarfs and is fighting for her country's freedom."

"Is that so hard to believe?"

Peter shrugged. "Evidently so. I think it's unwillingness to believe that a woman can be more than just beautiful. Susan gets the same reaction at archery tournaments. As if she cannot be beautiful, charming, graceful, and handy in a fight. They want to put her in a little box, and she just doesn't fit."

"I see," said Snow. Prowess at archery certainly didn't fit well with what she already knew about Susan—then again, the four monarchs had won their country from a Witch.

"You remind me a lot of Susan," Peter said. "Except you come right out and say what you're thinking."

"My father would be appalled," said Snow.

Peter threw back his head and laughed. The women in the immediate vicinity glared at Snow for causing him such mirth. Snow shrugged at them, trying to convey that she wasn't interested in playing that game. Not right now, anyway.

"What was he like? Your father?" Peter asked.

"He was a stern but fair king," said Snow. "He died when I was still too young to know much about politics. I think that's how Citrine pushed me out: my own naiveté."

"But that wasn't your fault," said Peter.

"Wasn't it? I don't know. How old were you when you took the throne?"

"Almost fourteen," said Peter.

"See? You were expected to rule Narnia at that age. Why was the same not expected of me? I should have been prepared to combat usurpers, but I was not."

"You mustn't blame yourself," Peter said soothingly.

"I don't see how anyone can expect me to do otherwise," said Snow White.

The music ended. Snow stepped away from Peter and curtsied deeply.

"If Your Majesty will excuse me."

"I'm not sure I should leave you just now," said Peter.

"I just need some air." Snow turned and fled. A Dryad immediately intercepted Peter for the next dance, preventing him from following her.

That's fine, Snow thought. I just need to be alone.

Snow lifted her long skirt and trotted up the stairs out of the ballroom. One of the Faun footmen opened the door for her.

"All's well, Your Highness?" The Faun eyed her face with concern.

"Quite all right," said Snow White. "I find myself in need of some air. Is there a balcony or courtyard near here, please?"

The Faun nodded. "To the right, third door on the left, Your Highness. You'll be able to smell the sea."

Snow followed his instructions and found herself in a small garden overlooking the sea. Moonlight glimmered off the water and washed the leaves of the garden in silver. A wisteria vine twined over the doorway and along the lattices which broke the garden into small, private nooks. Several of these housed bird baths or fountains or statues. Lions, Fauns, and Dryads featured heavily in the statuary.

The edge of the garden dropped sharply to the terrace below; a low railing ran along the precipice. Snow thought it might be made of marble. She followed the railing to the end of the garden, where a bench sat in the corner between the railing and the wall of the palace. She sank onto the bench and put her face in her hands.

Peter is right, she thought. Citrine is not my fault. She chose Nialba and schemed her way into power. It is not my fault—but I could have prevented it. If I had been more wary, more alert—if I had known just a little more about my own country—but it was not my fault. Not entirely my fault.

When Snow finally lifted her face from her hands, her palms were damp with tears. She wiped them on her dress, then wiped her face with her hem. She sniffled loudly.

"All right?"

Snow was embarrassed by the small scream that left her mouth. "Dammit, Edmund! You startled me!"

"Sorry." He emerged from the shadowy place where he'd been sitting and sat beside Snow on the bench. "Are you, though? All right?"

"Yes. I was momentarily—that is—I haven't been to a ball in a while—and there are so many people, and—"

Edmund interrupted her mercifully. "It's all right. It can be overwhelming. Does it remind you of your father?"

"No. I never attended balls as a child," Snow said. "I was to come of age at fifteen and attend my first ball, but Citrine locked me in my room on my birthday."

"I remember coming of age in Narnia," Edmund said. "Peter promised it wasn't so bad, but I've always hated being the center of attention."

"Me, too," said Snow. "But I was very excited for my birthday that year." She sighed.

"I can't imagine it would have been better than one of Susan's balls," Edmund said bracingly.

Snow chuckled weakly.

Edmund pulled a handkerchief out of his sleeve and offered it to her. Snow took it and dabbed at her eyes.

"It's going to be all right, in the end," he said.

"How do you know?" Snow tried to offer him back his handkerchief.

"Keep it. You need it more than I do," said Edmund. "And I know because you're not in this alone. You've got your friends at home, and the Dwarfs, and now you've got us. I'll tell you, High King Peter is a force to be reckoned with in battle."

"I'm sure he is." Snow could just imagine Peter, astride a white horse, sword and mail glinting in the sunlight, his golden hair flowing from beneath a helm. It was a comforting image. "I should go back inside," she said. "People will wonder where I've gone."

"Of course." Edmund stood and offered his hand. "Your Highness?"

Snow took the proffered hand, and Edmund helped her stand. Her gown was heavier than she'd thought it would be.

"Shall I escort you back to the ballroom?" Edmund said.

"You aren't going back in?"

"Aslan, no. I've had enough bowing and scraping for one night. Besides, we've a lot to do starting tomorrow."

"You're right," Snow said. "Still, I feel I should go back for a little while. Queen Susan went to all that trouble."

Edmund snorted. "Trust me, that wasn't on your account. Susan loves throwing balls, and Midsummer is by far her favorite."

"I'll go back anyway," Snow said. "But I can find my way, I think. Thank you, Your Majesty. For everything."

She left the garden with her head held high.

Edmund watched her go, thinking. She's been through a lot, and she's had no one to confide in. The Dwarfs are her friends, yes, but she's still their Queen. Thank Aslan she came to us.

He smiled. The Lion had probably attended to it personally.