How's that for quick updating! Thanks so much to reviewers, you keep the story alive. :)

Oh, and just a note: I realize as this goes on how horribly inaccurate it is, mostly because of all the human characters I have in Narnia. But, it fits in the story, and it's just for fun, so don't hate me too much! :)


The queen stared at the parchment and closed her eyes, wishing the words would disappear. There was already a headache lingering behind her eyes, but now it threatened to overtake her vision and smeared the words.

Still, she had already read what they said. Getting tackled in the gardens. A fire. Accidentally shooting a guard with an arrow.

She had sent away her daughter to learn decorum from royalty closer to her age, but it seemed like she wasn't learning anything at all. With Collin gone, Adonia was next in line for the throne—she had to learn to conduct herself properly, but she laughed at every attempt of her mother to help her.

Time was moving quickly—far too quickly. The queen couldn't even get out of bed some days, and her husband was growing pale with worry. If she knew that Adonia was ready, had a firm head on her shoulders, maybe she could relax. But it was obvious that she wasn't going to settle down on her own.

Darrin was with her, of course, but the man had grown far too close to Adonia. He had been first to offer to accompany her to Narnia, and she'd never heard him say a stern word to the girl. He would keep her safe, but he would not give her any firm direction.

She sighed and crumpled the letter. Quinton had been her faithful advisor for the past few years. She trusted his account was true. And he had also made an offer—his son's help. Davis, he insisted, would set Adonia straight once and for all and be her own advisor. It would be an honor if he could offer them assistance with this situation.

It went against her better judgment. Adonia had been through manners courses, had dancing instruction and education classes more than she could count and she still acted how she wanted. Sometimes she would only listen to her father. It seemed that when others told her what to do, she resisted even more than usual.

But the queen couldn't even get out of bed today. There was no way she could make the trip to Narnia herself, and the King never had the gall to properly discipline her.

She picked up a quill and began to write.


A week after my...shooting incident, I was accident free and trying my hardest to keep it that way. I devoted myself to helping around the castle—if I was going to shoot a guard and set some things on fire, I was at least going to compensate in some sort of productive way.

The fire actually made me think of it. In the wing of the castle I was staying in, there were rooms that were so rarely occupied that dust had settled in every nook. Susan had told me they didn't even know what was in some of these rooms. I was moved down the hall and consequently next to their rooms, but this wing still called me.

So I began to go through it.

"Oh, look at this Princess! Susan has been missing this—it must have been misplaced in here," Hannah cried.

I smiled at her as she held up a white shawl. She was at least ten years older than me, but her enthusiasm was as infectious as a child, and Lucy had recommended she help me with my venture.

"It's lovely. Isn't it Darrin?" I asked, mostly to see if he was still awake as he leaned against the far wall.

"Oh...um, yes my lady, it's nice."

"Doesn't Hannah look quite pretty in it?" I asked, wanting to make him even more uncomfortable.

He visibly choked as he straightened himself out and patted his throat.

"Of...yes, nice, of course..."

I smiled as Hannah's cheeks became crimson. She was outspoken and Darrin was stern, but they both clammed up around each other. I'd also learned that she was unmarried, and since Darrin could use a bit of cheering up...why not?

"Thank you, princess," Hannah muttered, her flush not disappearing as she gave me a small courtesy and an even smaller smile.

"How's it going in here?"

I had grown so fond of Lucy that to hear her voice made me perk up. It was strange—never in my life had I had a true girl friend. I'd only had Collin growing up, and a few noble girls that fussed about but didn't offer much in way of conversation. Lucy and Susan had taken to me so well that we now stayed up late simply talking to each other.

"Great!" I exclaimed, showing her the table of things I'd found. "There's a brooch I found under the bed, some candlesticks that would work great in the library, and Hannah found one of Susan's shawls."

"Wow," Lucy breathed, looking at the shining table. "This was a wonderful idea."

"Not to mention we can clean out these rooms and have guests..." I trailed off, remembering I didn't officially live here. "Not that I would have guests, since it's your home, but you—"

"—It's your home now, Adonia. Any guests would love to stay in here!" Lucy told me, her eyes glowing in excitement.

"I think so. It should be lovely."

"What's lovely?"

Peter strolled into the room, his shirt a dark blue and his face in a smile.

"Adonia's work is lovely," Lucy supplied, looking up at her brother. "Are you here to take me to the council?"

"I am. But Edmund wants to talk to Adonia first," he said, turning to me. "If you're ready to go, that is."

Lucy looked suspiciously at her brother and then to my confused face, but I merely shrugged and she accepted it.

"Yes, of course," I said, wiping some of the dust from my skirts. At least I'd wisely chosen to wear gray. "In his study?"

"Yes," Peter answered, giving the room a final nod. "And good work in here."

"Thank you," I said, smiling at him and Lucy as they turned to leave.

Lucy gave me a brief hug and waved to me before she disappeared around the corner. As I turned away from the door I noticed that Hannah had wandered over to Darrin and was talking in a low voice to him. His face, usually frozen in indifference was now visibly tense and alert.

I smiled.

"I need to go see King Edmund," I told Darrin, "It will be brief, but it's classified information, so he advised that I come alone," I lied, watching Darrin's face turn to slight annoyance. "I'll be back in a moment."

I slipped out before Darrin had a chance to argue, and hoped that he would put the time to good use. It was rare when I could convince him to leave my side.

Edmund's study was a good five minute walk from where I was, but I always liked walking through the castle. It was peaceful in a way, to go down long corridors that were empty but know that life was bustling just around the corner or behind the doors. And, quite different from the Anvard, there were people here that actually wanted to talk to me.

I knocked on the door and heard a muffled "Come in" from the other side. It creaked when I entered and Edmund looked up at me. His shirt was a dark brown, and I noticed against my will that it was the same deep color of his eyes.

It was weird to see him at a desk. He looked so natural outdoors, or walking, or answering questions from a throne, but at a desk he looked...tired. He rubbed his eyes and gestured to a red cushioned chair next to me, which I sat in slowly as I tried to think of what he had to say.

"I just thought you would like to know that we're having a visitor. From Archenland."

"Oh really?" I asked, my stomach unclenching. That wasn't quite a big deal. "Who?"

"His name is...um, what was it?" Edmund shuffled around the papers on his desk until he must have chanced across the right one. "Davis."

"Quinton's son?" I asked, thinking of my mother's advisor with his graying hair and sharp green eyes. I couldn't conjure up an image of his son, because I'd usually heard the name in conversation and not seen him in real life.

"How am I to know? Am I from Archenland? No," Edmund said, shrugging his shoulders with an angry huff. "Anyway, he's here for...diplomatic reasons," he said, letting out a drawn sigh.

I frowned and looked at Ed, who was avoiding my eyes. He'd never sounded quite so hostile and simultaneously deflated to me before. And getting to know him better than ever, I quickly deduced one thing...

"You're lying," I said, narrowing my eyes.

"What?" he asked, raising his dark irises to meet my own. "I am not."

"Yes you are!" I cried, watching his hands flicker in impatience...for what? I wondered. Maybe a sword.

"It was a courtesy to tell you in the first place," Edmund cried, "I don't have to explain myself to you, despite what you might think."

"Well excuse me for wanting to know the truth. I am the Princess of Archenland."

"Not that you act like it!" Edmund said hotly. "Shot anyone in the bum lately?"

"That was an accident!" I cried, thinking of Warner's poor limp. "And you're the one that distracted me. And you're doing it again—tell me the truth!"

"That is the truth," he said, slamming his fist down.

His actions made me look down at his desk, which made an idea form in my mind. He had to look at a letter to remember the name of the visitor, so the letter probably held what I was looking for.

I started to move around things on his desk, looking for the right one. It had been slightly yellowed and I think I glimpsed big broad strokes.

"What are you doing? Stop it!" Edmund said, trying to gather his papers back to himself.

I ignored his protests and saw the one I was looking for. Only this time, I recognized the hand writing—the swirly Ls, the exaggerated As—it reeked of my mother.

"Why would my mother...she's sending someone to look after me," I whispered, shaking my head. "How typical of her," I fumed, giving up my search as things clicked into place. "She wants me to be a mature, responsible ruler and the first thing she decides is that I can't make a decision myself."

"Well I agree with her," Edmund said, his temper still on fire as he straightened his things. "You do need some council."

"Excuse me?" I asked, my voice in danger of cracking.

"You are rash and selfish, you know that?" he asked. "You do whatever pops into your mind—do you think first? No. You're scared to speak up, but maybe that's best because your mouth is more trouble than it's worth!"

He hadn't moved but I felt like he had physically reached across the table and punched my stomach. The air fled in one fell swoop, but I tried not to gasp as I locked eyes with his seething ones.

I turned on my heel and practically ripped open the door. First my mother thinks I am incapable, and then Edmund agrees with her! He doesn't even know her! He doesn't know the awful things she thinks about me, and now he's saying those things himself. And to think just days ago I was joking around with him!

Peter almost ran into me as I turned the corner, but steadied me with quick reflexes and noticed my dark expression.

"Bad time with Ed?" he asked cautiously, tilting his head.

"Permission to speak freely?" I asked, the words almost lodging in my throat.

"Alright?" Peter asked, nervousness evident in his voice.

"He's your brother and a king," I said, my insides twisting. "But he makes me want to strangle him."