Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: "Life is a reflection of intent. Love reflects love. Hate reflects hate." - Jonathan Lockwood Huie

Can the reflection in the ocean waves be trusted?

A/N: If you have not read the first six stories in the A Light in the Darkness main story arc (Awakened, Shadowed, Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, and Refracted), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Seven: Tournament

11 Mayblossom 1008

The murmurs, laughter, and cheers of the crowd easily filtered into the large pavilion distracting Tarrin from the General's instructions. This was what he had been waiting for his whole life, ever since he had first been able to hold a sword, wooden though it was. He had trained to fight for years and had fought against the Fell thrice. His fingers sought the crest embroidered on his tabard, at once intimidating and reassuring. Father had believed he was ready and worthy of wearing the family crest into his first tournament. He supposed-

"Tarrin Peridanson!"

His attention returned to the General and he instinctively leaned back, nearly falling off the low bench, from the massive Centaur who had moved to stand right in front of him. "Sir?"

The General arched an eyebrow. "Have you been listening, Peridanson?"

"Yes sir, well, mostly."

"Hmmm, then you remember what I said about the melee just now, Peridanson?"

He racked his mind for what the General had said, a feat only somewhat aided when Sir Edmund raised his hand slightly and displayed two fingers. "Two? I…I mean, you said the melee opens the tournament and it's in two rounds?" He had meant for that to be a statement but it came out sounding like a question.

Sir Edmund tried to mouth something but clamped his mouth shut before Tarrin could decipher what he'd been attempting to communicate as the General looked over his shoulder. Slowly turning back toward him, General Oreius gave him a very stern look. "Indeed. Then you also know that only the first ten participants of each round of the initial melee may proceed in the sword competition? And that the senior knights will compete in the first round while novice knights and knight hopefuls compete in the second round?"

Tarrin nodded wordlessly. He did recall bits and pieces of those details. A horn sounded outside and the crowds cheered. The Centaur nodded to Sir Edmund, "The first round participants are expected to assemble on the field. Lion with you, Sir How."

Sir Edmund rose and bowed respectfully, student to teacher, as his hands rested on his twin swords. "Thank you, General." Then he exited the tent, leaving Tarrin alone with the General.

"Tarrin Peridanson, you know you must proceed into this tournament with a clear mind, do you not?"

"Yes, General. I just…"

He started in surprise when the heavy weight of the Centaur's broad hand settled on his shoulder. "It feels different to you. It is neither training nor battle."

"I've never been in battle, sir."

"Not on a battlefield perhaps, but you have drawn your sword and taken lives in encounters that can only be described as battle."

"Well, yes, and I suppose I should feel…" He trailed off as his thoughts and feelings refused to be framed into words that could do them justice.

"You think you should feel more confident about this tournament, but you are not because this does not feel the same as other times you have taken up the sword. You know you can fight against the Fell when necessary, but lives are not at stake during a tournament and yet it has higher stakes than training where the goal is solely to learn and grow stronger." The General studied him a moment before continuing, "And you question whether you are able to compete with those who have already won their spurs."

Tarrin looked up sharply. How was it that someone as…as…as legendary as General Sir Oreius Cyneward, a war hero long before even his father was born and who had been handpicked by the Great Lion Himself to lead His army against the White Witch, could pinpoint his own feelings with such accuracy? "You have never felt that way."

The thought slipped out before he could stop it, but the Centaur merely studied him with a contemplative expression. "I have not? Hmm, if that were true, then I never had need to train nor was sentenced to practice one hundred strikes against the training dummy first with my right hand and then with my left hand because I spoke back to my sire one time too many." He chuckled and Tarrin closed his jaw with an audible click, trying and failing not feel like a complete buffoon. "Every soldier has faced these same doubts, Tarrin, before battle or before a tournament. What differentiates a soldier from a civilian is the willingness to take action despite one's doubts. This principle applies to both tournament grounds and battlegrounds."

He didn't know what to say, but he understood what the General meant. He placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, the cool metal beneath his fingers helping to ground him. Finally, he stood and offered the General his best bow. "Thank you."

"You will do well, Peridanson, you will do very well indeed." Before Tarrin could respond, the Centaur left the pavilion. He looked down at the hilt of his sword again then took a deep breath before he left the anonymity afforded by the silk walls. The General's words settled into his heart with every step and he found himself growing calmer by the moment. Maybe he wouldn't be in the first ten competitors of his round, but he wouldn't just hand his sword over without a good fight. But first, he would show his support for his fellow Narnian, his King, and his friend, Sir Edmund of the How.

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Oreius watched the melee with a critical eye. He had positioned soldiers in vantage points all around the large field being used for the tournament to ensure his dark colt's safety as much as possible during such events. The crowd cheered as one particularly skilled knight defeated another knight. He was good, but he was also nearing the end of his prime and there was an old injury, most likely to his upper back on the right side, which was hampering him from fully extending his right arm and from putting as much power in his strikes as he no doubt once had. Oreius thought he would at least be among the final ten knights from this round, though he would not advance beyond fourth or fifth overall.

His dark colt was fighting well, wielding two swords and giving the older knights a greater challenge than they had expected. He nodded approvingly as Edmund defeated two of the other fighters in one swift, practiced move.

"Oh!"

Oreius barely restrained a long-suffering sigh as the breathy voice appeared by his side. One day, he would merely like to go one day without being plagued by forward mares and fillies. He did not have the patience to deal with it again. He sidestepped, distancing himself from the filly before she could lean against him even though it caused her to stumble and nearly fall since she had not expected him to do so. The petite brunette's heart-shaped face scrunched into a scowl as she fumed, "How dare you!"

He offered a short nod. "My apologies, Lady, shall I send for a stretcher to be brought so you may be borne away to the healers? I am certain the healers of Redhaven would be able to find some solution to aid you in maintain your equilibrium."

A flush of color suffused her cheeks but he gathered it was from anger rather than from embarrassment at her behavior. At least, he had offered an honorable excuse if she chose to take it. When she said nothing, he nodded once more then returned his focus to the melee, hoping she would gather her indignation and leave him be. However, the generously endowed filly attempted to slide between him and the rope marking off the tournament field's boundaries.

Lowering his gaze, he did not bother to hide his disapproval of her wanton actions, but the filly only batted her eyelashes as though that would persuade him to ignore any and all manner of honor…or perhaps the shifting winds had blown some debris in her eyes. She leaned forward and he stepped back. "Where are your minders, lady? Surely, they would not approve of such behavior as you are displaying. I do not see how the wantonness of your behavior could be seen as appropriate or attractive in any woman, much less one who should value herself enough to behave in a becoming manner."

Anger flashed in her eyes as she raised her chin defiantly. "How dare you say such a thing to me? I will not leave and you cannot make me. I only wanted to show you that I-"

"Do not value yourself enough to demand respect from those around you, especially men. You are correct, however, that I cannot force you to leave." Stepping back, he bowed his head with more courtesy than her actions had earned. "I, on the other hand, can. Enjoy the tournament."

Leaving the filly behind as she finally began to sputter in rage, Oreius quickly wove his way through the pavilions set up around the tournament grounds. He could only pray to Aslan that the filly would heed his words, if not as to how she should expect to be treated, then to at least realize that he had no interest in her and leave him be. A glance at the stands where Queen Lucy was sitting with a number of noblewomen proved that Alambiel was no longer sitting beside the Valiant. He wondered if she had seen the encounter he had with the filly whose voice he recognized as belonging to one of the fillies tittering in the garden, the one called Siri, if he was not mistaken.

"General Oreius." He stopped at the call, only somewhat wary since he didn't know what he had done to earn being called by his title as he turned to see Alambiel walking toward him. She smiled and silent laughter danced in her eyes as she neared him. "Would you be so kind as to escort me back to my seat?"

Bowing, he offered his arm. "Of course, Your Highness."

When she didn't protest as she took his arm, he glanced down at her in concern. She should have said something about his addressing her as the Princess Royal. Scanning the crowds as they walked, he searched for anyone who looked as if they had been troubling Alambiel or any familiar faces that he knew would have caused her to act more subdued. No one stood out. However, they might be better at hiding their intent than he hoped. Glancing back down at Alambiel, he asked in a tone just above a whisper, "What is wrong? Where are they?"

She slanted a glance at him then smiled as she whispered, "It is only one and there is nothing wrong yet. I am being proactive. Look in that mirror on the vendor's stall to your right."

Fully expecting to see a strange man, Oreius was taken aback to see none other than the grand old dame fast approaching them from behind. He scowled. "I thought you were in trouble."

Alambiel laughed, "What sort of thanks is that for saving you from another uncomfortable encounter today? I would have thought you had your fill with the impertinent child known as Lady Siri. Of course, she was the one who was admiring your exotic appeal."

He snorted. "I extracted myself from the situation before it became a diplomatic incident of any degree."

"Ah, it looks like the grand old dame has given up…for now. Maybe you should consider having your own bodyguard, Kentauri. You know, to protect you from all this unwanted attention."

"Minx, you are enjoying these wanton fillies plaguing me."

"Only a little." The crowd cheered making conversation impossible, but she continued when the cheering ceased. "Just avoid the Lady Octavia for a couple of days and I'm sure she'll get the message."

They had nearly reached the stands reserved for the highest ranked wedding guests and the Governor and his family. "Alambiel. Why is Govad sitting beside Queen Lucy?"

"It seems he is in my seat." She grinned as he escorted her to the steps leading up to the box. "So what did the grand old dame say?" He glared at her, but his mischievous minx just snickered. "Lig dom buille faoi thuairim. Ba mhaith leat i ndáiríre a póg dom anois, ceart?" (Let me guess. You really want to kiss me right now, correct?)

Crossing his arms, he rumbled, "Don't tempt me. And cease your mischief." Alambiel's only reply was laughter.

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The crowd cheered as another knight yielded the fight. There were only eleven combatants left in the second round of the melee. Tarrin was breathing hard, his arms and legs ached, but not so much that he couldn't keep fighting. He raised his shield in time to block a strike that pushed him back two steps. Keep moving and use your head…not literally…unless absolutely necessary. His opponent was older, probably the same age as his oldest cousin who was a good ten and a half years his senior, and had the advantage of more experience and training. Tarrin fell back on a trick Sir Edmund had showed him a fortnight ago. Stepping back again just ahead of his opponent's next strike, he dropped to one knee, ducking his head as he waited for his opponent to carry through the strike. As soon as it was too late for the man to halt his momentum, Tarrin thrust his shield up, hitting just behind the man's wrist. The hilt of his opponent's sword glanced off his chainmail-covered shoulder as the man dropped his weapon, unable to hold on to it. Tarrin thrust his sword forward, aiming between the man's ankles, then twisted the blade so the flat struck against the back of the man's ankle at the same time he surged up to slam his shield against the man's right side, using his opponent's greater size and weight to aid in knocking him off his feet. Tarrin stepped forward and lowered his sword to lightly rest against the man's heaving chest, not daring to take his attention off him until he yielded the fight.

The crowd cheered and he caught a quick glimpse of Queen Lucy jumping up and down as she clapped. He was somewhat surprised that she was just enthusiastic about his skirmish as her brother's- A heavy blow connected with the back of his helmet. Dark spots danced across his vision, but he still remembered the training General Oreius had hammered in for these kinds of situations, rolling forward, he avoided the next strike. He struck at his opponent's feet, forcing him to jump back, giving Tarrin the chance to regain his feet. Some annoying black spots were still in the middle of his vision. He probably wouldn't be able to keep up a long fight. Raising his shield, he deflected the next strike then he dove under his opponent's shield, ramming into his gut. They both toppled to the ground. Tarrin's vision swam but he managed to bring his sword up to his opponent's throat first, forcing the man to yield.

The crowd cheered. Tarrin staggered back to his feet, but nearly sank to his knees as the dark spots in front of his eyes abruptly multiplied with the sudden movement. He thought he heard someone shout his name, Queen Lucy maybe, from somewhere behind him. He turned around in time to see a pommel rushing toward him then it all went black…

"Give him some room. He's coming around now. Tarrin?"

"I knew I should have brought my cordial."

"For what, Lu? He got a couple of knocks on the head, not stabbed or anything serious."

Tarrin slurred, "Thanks, glad my head's not important."

He finally pried his eyes open in time to see Queen Lucy frown at her brother who just held his hands up, smirking. "Well, I did tell you not to use your head unless it was absolutely necessary. Besides, as thick as your skull is (it's almost comparable to Peter's dense skull, my friend), what are two or three lumps?"

He wanted to laugh, truly, but his head was throbbing to the point that he doubted that would be a good idea. Still, it wouldn't do to keep lying around like he was some sort of invalid (he agreed with the Kings about such behavior giving healers too much fodder for their ridiculous demands of bed rest). He tried to sit up only to promptly struggle with preventing the loss of his breakfast. Hands pushed down on his shoulders.

"Oh no, you don't! Lay back down before you pass out, Tarrin."

He closed his eyes as the woman's face swam in the most nauseating way. When he opened his eyes again, he realized he was back in his assigned guestroom. "Ah, you're awake. Good." Something damp and cool was wrapped around his head. He reached up only for someone to grab his wrist. "Nope, don't you be messing with that, Tarrin. I promise it will help with that headache if you leave it be."

He blinked again as a familiar face hovered above him. The Princess Royal was still in the same formal dress she had been wearing when he last saw her sitting beside Queen Lucy observing the tournament, but her hair was dangling over her shoulder in a thick braid, the end of which was coiling on the covers next to him. He frowned as he realized the light streaming through the partially covered window wasn't bright enough to be the sun. "What time…" He paused to lick his dry lips then grabbed the cup placed against his mouth as he gulped the cool, refreshing lemonade.

The Princess Royal gently pulled the cup away far too soon for his liking. "Easy. You'll make yourself sick if you drink too fast. And it's three hours past midnight." She allowed him to take another drink. "Oreius would like to speak with you, though, if you are up to it. If not, I'll tell him to wait until you can sit up without fainting."

Tarrin scowled. "I can sit up." He blushed as he hurried to add a belated, "My Lady." He pushed himself up on his elbows, managing not to groan at the throbbing between his temples. It was difficult to tell due to the shadow falling across her face, but he was fairly certain that the Princess Royal rolled her eyes before she moved a number of pillows to prop him up.

"Very well." She walked across the room to the door and opened it. He didn't hear her say a word before the General's massive shadow stood in the doorway. The Princess Royal stepped to one side, permitting the Centaur to enter the room. "Don't let him do anything to aggravate that concussion, Kentauri." Then she left without even waiting for the General to reply…the Princess Royal did that a lot. He had a feeling she was the only one who could get away with it.

The General walked over and silently handed him the cup of lemonade, waiting until Tarrin had finished drinking before he spoke, "You fought well, Tarrin Peridanson, a credit to your training."

"And then I turned around in time to have a pommel hit me in the face."

A flash of white teeth against dark skin gave away the Centaur General's amusement, but his voice was as serious as ever when he responded, "Something to work on in future training sessions. And we will work on it, Peridanson."

"Yes, General."

He barely kept his jaw from dropping when the General touched the top of his head for a brief moment and commented once more. "You fought well today." Drawing his hand back, the Centaur cleared his throat. "Ahem, but I gave my word to Alambiel that I would not tire you, so it would be best if you sought your rest." The General left before Tarrin could formulate a reply. Grinning, he slid a little further down in the bed. General Oreius thought he had fought well in spite of being unable to avoid the knocks on the head. He couldn't wait to tell his father once they returned to Narnia.

The next time he opened his eyes, he was alone and faint golden light was streaming through the part in the curtains. A moment later, the door opened then Queen Lucy poked her head in. Her smile was almost blinding as she hurried toward the bed. "Tarrin! Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to speak so loudly." She clasped his hand and lightly touched the cold compress wrapped around his head. "I wanted to see if you were awake before I had to go watch the jousting. Are you feeling better? I wish I had had my cordial when you were hit. The way you dropped, we were all worried about you. Oreius and Kat didn't even wait for the melee to finish before getting you off the field. Are you sure you're all right?"

This reminded him of talking to Raisa…it made his head spin. "I…I am."

Queen Lucy beamed and squeezed his hand. "I'm so glad to hear that, Tarrin. Don't worry about today, Edmund volunteered to keep you company so you won't be bored. But, don't forget to rest either." She paused then kissed his cheek. "I told you that you would fight well, Tarrin. I have to go." She hurried toward the door then looked over her shoulder with a bright smile. "Don't let Edmund get you in trouble."

"Why don't you ever tell him not to get me in trouble?"

Queen Lucy laughed as she skipped past her brother. "Because Tarrin behaves himself better than you and Peter together. Don't get him in trouble."

King Edmund snorted as he tromped into the room, carrying a tray piled high with food. "Why does no one believe that it's Peter who always gets us into trouble?"

"Because he's the oldest?" Tarrin's stomach growled as he eyed the tray. "Did you already eat, King Edmund?"

There wasn't even a trace of malice in the Just King's tone as he shook his head in mock exasperation. "Because he's the golden one." He smirked. "No, but this is yours. I have my own, but Kat said I had to bring yours in first since you ran into a pommel and all that."

Tarrin made a face then hissed, "Ow. I shouldn't have done that."

"I agree. That look did nothing to dissuade any mistaken impressions concerning your intelligence."

Tarrin snickered. "Well, at least I don't have the burden of a highly important title to live up to that causes additional consequences for lapses in judgment." He paused, wondering if he'd gone too far (probably if his mother ever heard him joking with one of the Kings like this), then added, "Your Majesty."

King Edmund rolled his eyes. "Just don't fall on your head while I'm getting my food. I don't want to be sentenced to visiting the points of the Floating Gardens, which was Kat's threat yesterday and this morn about what would be my fate today and tonight if I in any way contributed to you being a poor patient." He grimaced. "And the good General was looking far too contemplative for it to be good for us."

Tarrin gulped then decided the safest option would be to start eating. King Edmund walked out, promising to return with his own food. The food was almost as good as that in the Cair (he was of the opinion that Narnian food was best he had ever eaten…well, except for a couple times he'd eaten something not meant for consumption by anyone with a human palate), but his mind wandered a bit. He admired and respected the Kings a lot (the Queens too but that was different), after all Lion knew he'd never be any good at running a country. But, sometimes it was easy to remember that King Edmund was only six months older than him and today it felt more like he was talking to just another seventeen-year-old boy than to King Edmund the Just.

The door slammed against the wall as two furry bodies hurtled into the room. Tarrin jumped and the forkful of eggs he'd been about to eat landed on the bed covers. Acting quickly, he snatched a piece of toast and deftly scooped the fallen eggs off the covers and into his mouth. "Tarrin!" He immediately began coughing and choking as the toast and eggs went down the wrong way.

Two furry heads popped up on one side of the bed. As a precaution, he moved his tray to the other side. The Greyback twins grinned at him, well, one of them did, while the other one had something squirmy and covered in mud lightly clamped in his jaws although he was still trying his best to grin around the thing. The Wolf whose mouth wasn't impeded by some squirmy creature looked concerned, "Are you all right, Tarrin?"

The polite response would have been to reassure the Wolves he was all right, but the fact that the Wolf was bringing the squirmy muddy creature closer to his food brought a far less polite question to the fore. "What is that?"

The Wolf holding the squirmy muddy thing dropped it on the bed covers. Tarrin pulled the tray of food closer to the head of the bed as the muddy creature flopped around near his knees. "We found a newt!"

He was fairly certain that the creature flopping around wasn't a newt. Weren't newts supposed to have four legs? "Why?"

"Because they have good mud and slime for healing aches, especially headaches, and you have a headache, Tarrin." The Wolf glanced at his brother and added slyly, "And Romulus missed the nice big frog we originally wanted to bring you."

Before Tarrin could think of some type of reply, any reply, King Edmund's shout filled the air. "Remus! Romulus! Why did you two bring that thing in here? What is that? Never mind, I don't want to know." The Just King glared at the Wolf pups as he set his own tray down on the washstand. "Get that thing and take it back to where you found it! We're guests here and you two just tracked mud all over the carpets and got it on the bed covers. So, after you return that thing to wherever you found it, you will clean up. I don't want to see one muddy paw print between the two of you. Then, Masters Greyback, you will apologize to the servants who now have to clean up after you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Your Majesty." The Wolf twins' ears were flattened and their heads were drooping as Remus grabbed the muddy squirmy thing that was not a newt and then they slunk past King Edmund. Tarrin felt a little sorry for them. They were menaces but they really did want to help everyone, especially King Edmund. He glanced at the muddy and slimy smears now staining the bed covers…they were foiled by their own enthusiasm, though.

King Edmund dragged a hand down his face and groaned, "Peter, I should bloody well throttle you, brother mine." He shook his head. "I need to add this to the record of all Greyback-related incidents and ask some of the servants to come clean everything up." He looked around the room again then shrugged. "Well, if you're really not an invalid, Tarrin, why don't you get dressed and then we can eat breakfast in the parlor? I'm sure it will make the staff happier if they can change out the damage caused by Remus without you being in here."

Tarrin grinned. "I bet I'll finish and be continuing my breakfast faster than you can make it back to the parlor."

King Edmund smirked. "Try not to hurt yourself carrying that tray." Then he dashed out of the room before sprinting back in to grab his forgotten tray of food. He shot Tarrin a look of mock disdain when Tarrin snickered.

It took slightly longer than he wanted to admit to change into a fresh tunic and breeches and then carefully carry his tray into the parlor, but he still managed to beat King Edmund by a bite and a half. They were too busy eating to make conversation until the Greyback brothers slunk back in, newly clean and slightly damp, and apologized handsomely to the maids (though the three girls and two matrons looked rather stiff with fear at the Wolves) before they left with the soiled rugs and bedding. Tarrin took a sip of coffee then asked, "Why aren't you participating in the jousting, King Edmund?"

"Because it would hurt Philip's feelings. He lets me ride some of the dumb horses (ones he's decided are appropriately suited to not acting like nitwits and running off at the slightest noise, mind) when he's not at the Cair or when he's injured, but he really doesn't trust anyone but himself to carry me into battle. And, although I have argued this point long and hard before conceding, he doesn't think jousting or any of the tent pegging games count as something other than battle."

"Then why didn't he come with us?"

King Edmund grinned as he stacked some sausages and strips of bacon between two slices of toast. "Because Philip's sister, Sarah, and her family were spending the winter and spring in the south with their herd and Philip went down there to visit while the herd waits for Sarah to give birth to her third foal. I couldn't ask him to miss the birth of a niece or another nephew just to participate in this tournament. Besides, Philip's not my Horse, but I am his boy."

Tarrin nodded slowly. It made sense and he had noticed that King Edmund and Philip had a very close friendship (the Horse did commit the epitome of equine gauche behavior by allowing…no, insisting he carry King Edmund and even allow himself to be guided by reins when it wasn't a time of war, after all). "Where did the Princess Royal go?"

"If I had to guess, I'd say Kat went back to Hadassah House. And Oreius went with her since he assigned Ptah to help Babet and the others keep an eye on Lucy."

He hesitated, glancing at the guards who were still present, then lowered his voice as he asked, "To avoid the grand old dame?"

King Edmund snorted coffee. Mopping himself up, his shoulders were still shaking when he finally managed to comment, "Well, that's probably one of the advantages of going with Kat."

One of the Greyback brothers looked up and thumped his tail as he cheerfully added, "Maybe the Giantess would be happy if she came to Narnia. Giant Rumblebuffin's son is looking for a wife, so he might like the Giantess."

The other Wolf pup nodded, though not with quite as much enthusiasm as his brother. "He's a Buffin and the Buffins are one of the most respected Giant families in all of Narnia. Deirdre said so."

Tarrin looked at King Edmund who just shook his head before turning to the Greyback brothers. "I told you two the Lady Octavia is not a Giantess and we're not bringing her home with us. Not even for a Buffin family wedding." King Edmund sighed again as he turned to Tarrin. "What do you feel up to doing?"

Tarrin considered. "Well, I had wanted to see if there were any of the original plans for the construction of the Floating Gardens in the city library."

"Perfect. It gets us out of the palace and yet is sedentary enough that I won't get in trouble with Kat for letting you do it. Besides, I want to look up some laws that are specific to the Seven Isles."

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13 Mayblossom 1008

"What are they doing now, Queen Lucy?"

Lucy glanced at Govad then back to the field just as Lieutenant Lonn and another Faun entered. "An exhibition match. They're going to demonstrate their fighting skills are at such a level they can spar without even scratching each other."

"When are they going to start, Queen Lucy?" Lucy's brow furrowed when the Fauns didn't immediately start the exhibition match. Instead, Lieutenant Lonn was approaching their booth, his eyes fixed on…on Kat? She looked over Govad's dark head to where Kat was sitting. Surely, the Faun wasn't interested in Kat.

Govad whispered something, but she wasn't listening as she focused on watching the Faun lieutenant stop at the booth with a strange blend of confidence and shyness making its way into his expression. "My lady. My lady, might you grant me your favor?"

Kat shifted. Lucy inhaled sharply. What am I going to tell Tuulea and Susan? Then Kat shoved Leeta out of her seat and toward the rail. The Nymph was blushing to the point that even her tan complexion couldn't disguise it as she stepped forward as gracefully as a tree swaying with the wind, unravelling one of the embroidered green ribbons from her raven hair. Leaning forward, Leeta tied the ribbon around the lieutenant's spear, just behind the spearhead, and then she reached down to touch his hand. "You have my favor, Lonn. Fight well."

The shyness vanished as Lieutenant Lonn grinned then bowed his head. "As my lady commands." He returned to the center of the field, and Lucy could have sworn he was strutting, where the other Faun was leaning on his spear, shaking his head in obvious amusement.

Kat laughed softly as a still-blushing Leeta returned to the seat next to her. "Your aunt is going to flip when she hears that you finally have a suitor."

The Nymph smiled. "And if your highness ever wishes her to cease conspiring to make you a match, you should accept a suitor."

"Out of curiosity, Leeta, how do you know I haven't?"

Leeta met Lucy's gaze for a brief moment before she answered Kat. "Because if you accepted a suitor, you would ensure that my aunt knew about it so she and the rest of the matchmakers would leave you alone."

Kat laughed, "That would make sense, wouldn't it?"

A touch to her elbow pulled Lucy's attention back to Govad. The boy reminded her of dear (and eternally mischief-inducing) Corin, which was part of the reason she had told Lanka that it was perfectly all right for him to stay with her to watch the tournament. Govad's dark gaze was intent. "Why did the lady give him a favor?"

"It's a sign of her regard, that she likes him and thinks he can win."

"Oh." Govad looked at the field where the Fauns were now circling and jabbing with their spears then he turned, grasping her hand eagerly. "May I have your favor, Queen Lucy?"

Lucy hesitated, but then she immediately decided that Govad needed as much love and warmth as she and Susan always tried to give Corin. She smiled brightly and squeezed his hand. "Of course, Govad." She pulled a handkerchief out of her sleeve and pressed it into his hand.

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Katerina just shook her head as Govad followed Lucy even more doggedly after she had given him a handkerchief. That boy was developing a first-rate crush and Lucy seemed entirely unaware…for now. She would warn her soon enough. Of course, if it had been anyone else, Govad's persistence in spending as many hours as he could with her would have already drained their patience.

Leeta was preoccupied with Lonn (and Tuulea really was going to flip when she found out her niece had a suitor), which left her free to find Oreius. Slipping out of the box stand, Katerina motioned for the guards to stay with Lucy. She wasn't worried about her own safety. So far everyone, with a few notable exceptions, was comporting themselves with dignity…and if anyone got the idea that she was an easy target by herself, well, she had a plethora of knives to choose from in order to relieve them of such fallacy.

She had almost reached the Narnian pavilion when Ptah and Sobek greeted her. She had only been conversing with the Leopards about their upcoming exhibition match for a few minutes when she spotted the current bane of Oreius' existence striding toward the Narnian pavilion. The grand old dame simply refused to acknowledge the polite hints and signs that Oreius wasn't interested in her. Katerina shook her head. "I'm going to have to interfere, I think."

Ptah shot her a look. "I thought you preferred to tease the General."

"Oh I do. However, I am starting to feel sorry for him and I really feel sorry for her. She is making a fool of herself, after all. I was informed that she doesn't stop chasing those who catch her attention unless they are married or are in an established relationship."

Sobek was usually more reserved about sharing his opinion but he flicked back one ear, the one missing a sizeable chunk as a souvenir from Beruna, and growled, "She has no self-respect."

Katerina observed the way the woman was once again attempting to make herself seem extremely feminine in a manner that just seemed clownish. Sighing, she called out, "Lady Octavia! Might I have a moment of your time?"

The grand old dame hesitated, giving the Narnian pavilion a longing look, before she strode over to where Katerina was standing with the Leopards. Her ground-eating stride created an odd picture as she was once again wearing a dress that was covered in so much embroidery and beading that not even a hint of the original fabric was peeking out. The grand old dame glared down her hatchet-like nose at her. She didn't bother to feign the light, breathy voice that Katerina had heard her use when addressing Oreius. Instead, she spoke in a voice as rich and smooth as molasses that suited a woman of her build and presence far better than the airy tones she had affected before, a little deeper than a woman's voice was wont to be but it suited her. "What do you want, your highness?"

She smiled. It was rather funny how much disdain the dowager baroness managed to sink into her title. "I thought I should give you some rather important information about General Oreius."

The grand old dame scowled. "You want him for yourself, girl?"

I can't start laughing now. Wait until later…when I can enjoy Oreius' expression when I tell him about this part. "I wouldn't say that." She didn't need to because she already had him. "However, I thought you should be aware of the fact that I have heard from a reliable source that General Oreius has made mention of the fact that he is interested in a lady…who he knows in Cair Paravel. In fact, I have heard it said that he might already be courting this lady."

"He never mentioned another woman."

Katerina hesitated then glanced at the Leopards who shrugged. She should have waited to do this until there weren't any gossipy soldiers around. "Ask any soldier and they will tell you that the good General is not in the habit of sharing any details about his personal affairs." She glanced at the Leopards again who were nodding. "Not to mention, I don't think General Oreius is-"

She cut herself off as the grand old dame drew herself up then marched toward the pavilion, reaching there just as Oreius came out. The Kentauri didn't quite hide his trepidation at Lady Octavia's appearance. Before he could even speak, however, the grand old dame slapped him then stormed off muttering to herself about how men could never be trusted. Katerina clapped her hand over her mouth then looked at the Leopards. "Sweet Lion, I didn't think she was going to do that!"

Ptah's eyes widened then he nudged Sobek. "We should go practice." The Leopards left without waiting for her to say anything.

Knowing who had come up behind her, she turned around to meet Oreius' glare. "What did you do?"

Lowering her hand, she cleared her throat then picked at her skirt. "Ahem. I was trying to help, really, I was."

"Alambiel." He stepped closer, looming over her, as he growled, "What precisely did you say?"

"Well, I might have said something about hearing about you being interested in a lady you know in Cair Paravel and that you might be courting this lady already and that you aren't in the habit of sharing personal information."

"Which would explain why that woman slapped me and accused me of leading her on."

A giggle slipped out before she could press both hands over her mouth. Oreius had that look that warned she would soon find herself in the ocean if she didn't think of something quick. "I am so sorry. Really I am. She stormed off before I could explain that you're you, the General Oblivious, and, you know, use that to soften the news that you have no interest in her." She held up a hand, struggling to squish the smile that kept trying to appear. "Oreius, I swear I did not think she would storm off and slap you."

He glared. "Do not help me anymore, especially with discouraging wanton mares. And I am not oblivious."

"Well…at least the grand old dame is highly unlikely to plague you anymore, so you don't have to spend as much time hiding from her." Katerina started laughing. "And, the look on your face was hilarious." Gathering her skirts, she backed away from her unamused Kentauri. "I think-" She broke off as she laughed some more before finally controlling her laughter enough to force the words out. "I think I'll just go make sure Govad hasn't made too much of a pest of himself now." Note to self, avoid any and all bodies of water that Oreius might throw me in because I laughed at him until he fully appreciates the fact that I have, in fact, rescued him.

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14 Mayblossom 1008

Edmund crossed his swords and caught his opponent's arm-shaking strike at their crux. Sidestepping before the older knight could bring his greater weight to bear down on him, he whirled. Shafhelm flashed bright as he slammed the sword against his opponent's shield, catching him off guard enough that the other knight stumbled and landed heavily on one knee. This was it. Only one more hit to finish the match.

Something flashed out of the corner of his eye. He instinctively took a half step back as he turned his head slightly to see what had flashed. She watched him with an intensity he normally only saw directed toward Peter. Her flowing copper-toned hair was topped with a simple silver circlet that sported only three onyx stones to form the centerpiece. Clad in a rich, creamy white gown, she looked like royalty yet she had not been present at any of the events for the nobles present for the wedding and the tournament. It was most…curious.

Her eyes widened and a pale hand rose to cover her pink mouth. Edmund's attention snapped away from her just in time to see the other knight swinging his shield toward his head. He stepped back and dropped into a roll, careful to hold his swords out so he didn't accidentally impale himself. Springing to his feet, he dodged to the side, ducking as his opponent's sword whistled overhead. Getting inside the older knight's reach, Edmund brought up his secondary sword and rammed it against the inside of the man's shield, purposely aiming above his arm, forcing his arm back as he stuck his foot between the man's legs and tripped him. Bringing Shafhelm under his extended left arm, he rested the sword against the other knight's chest. Match to him.

Stepping back as he sheathed Shafhelm, Edmund nodded to the older knight. Waiting for the man to slide his arm out of the straps of his shield (he had refused Edmund's offer of help) before retrieving his secondary sword, he scanned the crowds. The young lady from before was no longer sitting on the stands. Maybe she had moved higher up. He looked back at the older knight and pulled him to his feet in a show of camaraderie then retrieved his sword.

Leaving the field, he cast periodic glances at the stands and the rest of the crowd gathered about the tournament field, searching for the lady in white with copper-toned hair. It was always good to keep track of royals, especially when they were unknown and might be interested in Narnia or at least her kings, and something about his impression of her, brief as it was, made him hesitate to think her a non-royal. Her unexpected interest in watching his fight made him wonder if she might be waiting to meet with him. Unfortunately, the only person waiting for him was the General.

Oreius' arms were crossed over his chest as he gave him a look that spoke volumes as to what the Centaur thought of his performance. Lowering his arms, the Centaur nodded to the path that would provide the most privacy among the pavilions. Still, he didn't say a word as they passed the large wooden board where a short, round man was raging at his apprentices to hurry with moving the small wooden shield painted with Edmund's heraldic symbol up to the next rank. Edmund noted that Tarrin's silver tower on a sable field was only three below his and if he won his next match, Tarrin would be in fifth. Oreius' tone was low but his displeasure was threaded in his very choice of words. "You allowed yourself to be distracted, Sir How."

Edmund flushed. "Yes, General."

"And what happens to a knight who allows himself to be distracted before he has ensured his enemy is incapacitated?"

"It can end in death or defeat."

"Then explain to me, Sir How, why you allowed yourself to be distracted? Even a friendly tournament such as this may be deadly if the combatants do not keep vigilant."

Edmund undid the chinstrap and pulled off his helmet, brushing sweaty hair off his forehead. "I saw something unexpected and I didn't realize I had looked away from my opponent long enough for him to regain his feet. It won't happen again, General. I'll reserve my curiosity for off the field of combat."

"See that you do." Oreius glanced down at him then lightly cuffed the back of his head. "Foolish colt, I was wondering if you had learned nothing over these last eight years. I would have been forced to resign if you had not recovered with that last clever move."

Edmund smirked. "But, what would you do in your retirement?"

The Centaur gave him an impassive look. Edmund winced as Oreius spoke, "It is irrelevant since I have neither retired nor resigned. What is relevant is the fact that you and Tarrin Peridanson will report to that stretch of beach two miles north of the port an hour after Peridanson's match so that you may complete several training exercises to aid in your awareness of your surroundings. In addition, you will also complete a goodly number of those suicide runs Alambiel is so fond of sentencing you to since we do not have ready access to the points of the compass."

Edmund shook his head as he jogged off to warn Tarrin. Training exercises and those blasted suicide runs. He wished Kat had never mentioned those to Oreius. And from now on, all matters of curiosity involving anyone, especially a girl, would wait until after he finished a tournament match.

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A/N: Please Read and Review! Nice long chapter for you. More of Hadassah House and its residents will be featured in the next chapter. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.