Author's Note: Ok, really sorry this took a while. I hope you aren't too mad!

Anyway, this chapter should be something you'll like, since you are reading it for the (*ahem-ahem*) romance, aren't you? lol! But if you're reading it for the adventure, there's lots of time for that later, y'know :D Well, enjoy Royal Riddles!

Chapter 10: Royal Riddles

That night, High King Peter found himself looking out the window of his study, hands clasped behind his back, and waiting for the hours to pass by as the skies and scenes of Narnia changed to welcome the evening. One would know the monarch was in deep thought, and I am to say that is regarding earlier noon. Peter knew there must have been something he had missed, and he was even reprimanding himself for searching in the ballroom long enough to do so. Lucy looked distant all throughout the meals, Susan was flustered and seemed as if she had just been going through a case of extreme stress, Edmund was strangely…slightly frustrated at the same time confused. Peter snorted in amusement. Edmund never knew how to sort his feelings very well anyway. But Eleanor looked scared and hesitant. All in all, the Dining Hall was as quiet as it would have been if it were empty.

A knock on the door made the High King start, and he swiveled around with a clear of his throat before bidding entrance.

Edmund had let himself in, shutting the door behind him as quietly as he always did. The dark haired king stared at his brother and offered a knowing smirk, "I thought I'd find you here," he said.

Peter smiled and gestured for his brother to take a seat before his desk, just as he sat himself behind it. When both were settled, there followed a silence that would have put Edmund ill at ease, if he had not already rehearsed what his business would be as of the moment.

"Is everything all right?" Edmund asked.

Peter, who had been looking at the floor, shifted his blue gaze easily to meet the concerned one staring back at him. He sighed, the kind of sigh that was just out of habit, "I was hoping you'd tell me, actually."
Edmund nodded and still eyed his brother, a small smile playing on his lips as he cocked his head to one side, "That's a bit of a long story."

"Well, then," Peter smirked, "What would delight you of late?"

Edmund shrugged, "Has the borders' construction progressed?"
Peter's face grew serious and he shook his head disappointedly, "Not at the pace I was hoping for," said he, "I thought we could do enough to allow safe passage before we invite King Lune and Prince Corin for their visit to Cair, but at this rate we haven't really done enough."

Edmund shifted in his seat, "And is that your only concern?"

"Winter, will come in only a matter of months," Peter continued, "If we don't secure enough progress in time, we may have to halt work altogether before it gets too cold. And then the borders will just freeze over again."

"That's a bother," Edmund agreed and gestured with a hand to emphasize a point, "But perhaps all we need is patience and luck," he said, "This isn't the first time we've dealt with such challenging circumstances."

"Correct," Peter grinned, "Why don't you send word to Anvard?"
Edmund sat up with a smile at this one, "Regarding?"

"We will see how far we can really get through these borders. If we don't progress in a given three weeks, then we'll send out escorts to take the Archenlanders through the other side. What say you?"

"That sounds right," Edmund nodded, "I'll have a letter ready to be delivered by morn. Brightfeather should know the way."

"Excellent."

Edmund's heart fluttered inside at the thought of having the jolly Archenlanders come over for their annual visit to Cair Paravel, for he very well enjoyed their company. Perhaps he should go off and escort them himself? The young king was certainly warming up to the idea.

"And you," Peter said, "How were the councils today? Have there been any new sightings?"

Edmund set his jaw, "Boggles," he began, "They were seen flying from Western Woods and east, at the same time that a pack of wolves were howling them over."
Peter's eyes widened.

"I mean, that's only my suspicion, as reported by the hounds," Edmund added hastily, not wanting to worry his brother, "The Followers can't possibly be planning anything at this time after three years. They are greatly outnumbered."

Peter grinned teasingly, "Numbers do not win a battle."

Edmund raised an eyebrow and rolled his eyes, "But for Followers, I'll bet they don't even help."

"Boggles and wolves, are they all?"

"Ankleslicers."

Peter leaned forward, "Say that again?"

"Oreius came to me with a report regarding Noreion having gotten wounded while patrolling the Owlwood."
"Did they even see the ankleslicer?"

"Nay," Edmund replied simply and held up his hand when Peter looked meaning to interject, "But their studies concluded thus. I don't think our medical specialists should make a mistake regarding an ankleslicer. I've sent Master Quadrîn and a handful of his men to scout the earth."

Peter nodded and leaned back again, "You received coordinates?"
"Very accurate ones."
"Good to know," Peter's eyes glinted pleased, "Have you sent other patrollers to scout?"

Edmund smirked, "Don't you trust me?"

Peter clapped his hands together, "A job well done, King Edmund," said he, "I daresay you'll be handling councils more often after this."
"I look forward to it," Edmund replied with a sarcastic grin.

The conversation was again brought to a halt and the kings sat in silence, keeping to themselves, Peter more waiting for Edmund to proceed with the conversation. The younger king stared down at his hands, thinking upon how he should change the course of the subject, but he finally resorted to just bluntly say, "I found her with Ortemius."

"I'm sorry?"

"You heard me."

Peter furrowed his brow, confused, as it took him a moment's understanding to realize that Edmund had already veered the conversation to his previous sentiments regarding Eleanor and her presence at the west wing, "The west wing, right?"

"Yes," Edmund said and nodded his head towards the door, referring to the hallways outside, "In the Royal Study. Apparently our Teacher was there too."

"Ortemius," Peter said quietly, still a hint of perplexity in his voice, "What would he have been doing in the study at that time of the day?"

"According to him, there were no scheduled Councils for the morning," Edmund explained, as he had heard, "He decided he would look for more documents that could aid us in our lessons."

Peter chuckled, which Edmund found amusing when the High King said, "The excuses are either by Ortemius himself or you."

Edmund snorted and leaned back in his seat, "Come off it," he smirked. But the moment's mirth was put to an end as Peter's expression again turned very serious, "But what had you guessing that you'd find Eleanor in the west wing?"

"Guessing?" Edmund raised his eyebrows, "Well, I just figured that since Susan was looking through the east wing, I'd look in the west."

"And that was out of your own discretion?"
Edmund stared at Peter, taken aback by the question. But there was something in the older brother's eyes that just told him to answer as honestly as he could, "Well, yes. Of course," the Just replied slowly. Peter leaned back in his own chair and averted his gaze for the moment. That sounds like magic as well, mind you, Ed, he thought, but decided upon not saying that aloud, for he knew that Edmund was in a sensitive mood about magic now. After all, who would want to have anything to do with magic that is not even recognized?

"They were conversing when I found them," Edmund said again, hoping he could get Peter out of his thoughtful demeanor. It worked.

"You were eavesdropping?" Peter asked, his eyes glinting with game.

"Good Lion, of course not," Edmund wrinkled his nose distastefully, "I chanced upon such, only because the doors were left ajar. It's not unusual that the voices are heard through an empty wall, don't you think?"

Peter smirked, "Why should we be concerned about their conversation?"
"Because they were about the three Varchovîch children."

Peter shifted and sat up, "And you're certain about this."

"How many names in Narnia will you find, Ludwig, Mathilda, and Eleanor, with monarchial titles to go with each name." That wasn't a question, rather a statement, and Edmund was aware that his brother understood. What Peter still couldn't understand however, was what he voiced out next, "But had not Eleanor said that she wished of no one else but us to know about her true origins?"

Edmund only nodded.

"Then, if that be right, why was she discussing Borovia with Ortemius?" Peter directed this more to himself, "Surely she hasn't known him any longer than she's known us."

Edmund bit his lip as a bothersome though crossed his mind.

"You and the Council," he said carefully, "Being magicians and all. You saw the Long Winter?"

Ortemius continued to look over the books, scanning the yellowed pages and parchment as he mulled over the question. He turned to face the king and eyed him suspiciously, "Lived through it, my lord."

Edmund nodded, "Including you?"

"Quite so."

Edmund nodded and looked out the window, a griffin flying past signaling the change of shifts. He thought about his next question, one he knew he had to think over carefully again, "So then I suppose you have seen Borovia?"

"Is that a question, Sire?"

"Yes, it is."

Ortemius cleared his throat, "Yes. I have seen the country when she still stood on her powerful foundation." Ortemius laid down a book on the table and stared at the king.

Edmund swallowed, his dark eyes stealing a glance at the newly laid down text. So you have. How much do you know of her crown?

"Have you met any of the Varchovîch?"

A strange smile crept over Ortemius's lips, sending a slight chill down Edmund's back, "Certainly, my King. To be sure."

Edmund shook his head at once. That's ridiculous, he thought and he pushed his sentiments aside.

"Ed?"

Edmund looked up and smiled uneasily, "Sorry, I was…went somewhere else for a moment-- you were saying?"

"Even if Eleanor lied about her origins for the time being, Ortemius would have guessed who she might be," Peter said, "Auburn hair and grey eyes aren't necessarily the most common things in Narnia."

Edmund shook his head and furrowed his brow in thought, "That's my fear as well," he said softly. It was at that point, that Peter fully understood what must have gotten everyone else uneasy during earlier noonday meals, especially, as it obviously appeared, Eleanor. Edmund was also in a realm of his own, struggling to calm his already reeling thoughts about the many possible backgrounds of Ortemius and his connections with the fallen kingdom of Borovia, for if Ortemius was alive during the time of the Varchovîch and before, the chances of recognizing Eleanor even after all these years was still great. The Old Teacher was a sorcerer, and his skill was only matched by the rest of Cair Paravel's Council, and maybe even the dryads of the Empire. And even then, nobody knew who the Council of Cair Paravel truly was, for these sorcerers and apprentices were rarely ever spoken of and made known. It was a belief system of secrecy held onto by Narnia during its centuries and centuries of existence, and had never been questioned even by Jadis herself, bizarre as that might sound. But Edmund had had his fair share of experience with dark magic, and not necessarily all of it was as grand was one might really imagine it to be.

And if the Council really were sovereigns over such necromancy, as it was believed to be, would they know if all of Borovia were truly dead? And moreover, would they know who would still be alive? And what business would even link them to a perished kingdom only as vivid as the images and texts in books alone?

"Are you finally taking into consideration what I've told you in the past?"

Edmund shot his head up and found his brother staring at him with a knowing look on his face, "Yes," Edmund said honestly and a bitter taste on his tongue as he added, "Magic."

Peter nodded and looked thoughtful again, slightly narrowing his eyes as he asked his brother, "You want to protect her, don't you?"

Edmund shifted and raised an eyebrow, "Don't you?"

"Of course," Peter said and he slowly stood from his seat to pace the room, "As do Susan and Lucy." The High King stopped in front of his brother, looking down at him with full understanding and wisdom in his eyes, "But there is only one finger for every ring," he said simply.

"And you mean to say?"

"I mean she is the kind of person who reserves her trust for someone who will really keep it like a treasure," was the reply, "And whoever that person is, is all up for her to decide."

Edmund knew what that meant from there, and understood why Peter was saying such a thing to him, for Edmund had come from a mindset very similar to the lady's. He would understand her. And more than anything, the Just king wanted to protect her from making the same dreadful mistakes he had done himself in the past, and if he could not do it with sword and shield, then he would have to do it with words. To win Eleanor's trust would be the only protection he could offer her for now, and Edmund was willing to exhaust all the efforts it was obviously worth.

In the gardens, if it may appear to be a slight surprise, Eleanor would be found sitting alone on a stone bench, her hand feebly holding onto the pendant of her necklace, with the chain hanging carelessly towards the ground. The princess could feel the cold air of the nocturne biting at her skin, but she minded not, only because that for some reason, she had always felt that any sign of the presence of winter was the closest she could ever get to her family. But at this time, Eleanor could feel nothing but utter emptiness and fear, fear for what she had witnessed in her mirror, seeing the Child—her.

She saw everything that had happened that night, and it was ironic that she still desired the heart of winter, the coldest of ice, and the harsh winds of every long night and dreadfully short day. Eleanor felt her eyes sting for the enth time that evening and fresh tears ran down her cheeks.

Crying again? a voice sounded critically in her head, Haven't you been doing enough of that lately?

Eleanor grunted and shook her head, embracing herself and looking at her feet. For every tear that she presently shed, and for every tear she had ever shed in her life, it was always for her pain. Never had she experienced the horrid lie called 'tears of joy.' Was there even such a thing? No.

At least, not for her there wasn't. And the princess's heart felt a sharp and sudden pang when she unconsciously recounted events in her life when she knew she cried, and it all started as that blasted mirror showed her, when she was struggling to escape her own homeland during a time she knew it actually needed her most. She was a princess of a coward, to run on and not fight back. How dare she—how dare she to leave her mother to die alone. How dare she to leave Ludwig to battle the witch and just cry a meaningless course of tears for nothing. How dare she to leave Mathilda bleeding on the ground, and not sacrifice her own self so as to join her family; Eleanor chose, she chose because she was the idiot of a child to choose, to leave her family behind during the coldest of winter while she escaped and lived on. And what a life indeed! Nigh every day was scorn, every night a new nightmare, ever minute a waste of time. It did serve her right that she suffered the bits she had now. Hah! In fact, she was sure she would be finished before she even knew it. One could not grieve for so long. One could only tolerate so much a wound.

"Dvélivrevich."

Eleanor shot her head up at the sound of the curse. It took her long enough to realize she had said it herself. What am I doing? she thought frantically and fell into broken sobs. Death, death, death. All I want is to end everything! Eleanor clasped a free hand over her mouth to try the hardest she could to conceal her sobs, the sign of weakness, the symbol of stupidity, and the very insignia she was branded with ever since she left her kingdom. But the more she thought of these things, the more she failed to hide her crying, and as helpless as she appeared, she felt it too, a great deal. How she hated weeping.

Is death so hard a thing to accomplish? Eleanor thought bitterly, Why did I have to escape when the Followers found me in Owlwood? Then was my chance and I ran again, like the coward I am!

Eleanor had never felt so deprived of something in her life, and for her it was strange and hated. She sat there on the stone bench, shaking violently as she cried on, brooding over other horrible things I certainly cannot write here.

The sound of arriving footfalls on the grass was not even enough to break Eleanor's train of thought, and therefore the princess failed to hear that someone was thus approaching.

Edmund heaved a heavy sigh as he shut his eyes tightly and ran both his hands through his hair and rubbed his face. Today had certainly muddled his mind, and the Just king felt he deserved to render himself a few stolen hours alone in the Royal Gardens, as he was always fond of doing when hungering for a time to sort out his thinking.

The night was particularly cold, hence Edmund had decided to wear a much more appropriate shirt and tunic, also for the sake of Susan's sanity. The queen would have his head if he fell ill out of not following her instructions regarding Narnia's ever-unpredictable weather. Edmund smiled as he stopped for a moment beside the brush, fingering the petals of one of the wildflowers. He sighed, his mind wandering off to the dryads that took great care of such flowers, and the thought of the dryads led the king to the thought of Eleanor. There is only one finger, for every ring, Edmund pondered over the words of his brother and creased his brow worriedly. Shaking his head purposefully, the king walked down the familiar path to the stone benches, desiring very much to sit idly and wait for the hour to supper.

But as he rounded a bend in the way to the stone benches, Edmund furrowed his brow when he heard…sobbing?

Quickening his pace, Edmund craned his neck trying to look past the hedge blocking his view. He shoved the remnants of his eerily familiar nightmare out of his mind, half-expecting to hear the Borovian plea of the princess. And when the king finally did come to the stone benches, what greeted his eyes stunned him a good deal, for there she was, Eleanor, her back turned to him and struggling to keep louder signs of her sorrow to escape her lips. For a moment, Edmund wasn't sure of what to do, but again his dream returned to him, and the same longing of consolation took over his subconscious.

"Eleanor?" he asked carefully. The princess suddenly sat rigidly and turned to face him. Edmund took in the sight of her face at once, and it softened his gaze on her to a measure he never had done before. The lady's grey eyes were blurred with tears, and were so red and sore that Edmund wondered if Eleanor could still even see. Tears stained the princess's fair face, and her brow was creased in an instinctive reflex in a sign of pain.

Eleanor made to stand. "No, please," said the king, "Sit."

The lady nodded and weakly sat back, turning away from her new companion, allowing her loose auburn hair to conceal her face from Edmund's view. Eleanor felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment, for of all the people it had to be Edmund who found her here. But then again, she couldn't really think of any better person. She could sense the king walking closer, clearing his throat, "Here," he said softly. Eleanor glanced to the side and found that a handkerchief was being handed to her. Politely, she accepted it, "Thank you."

Edmund stared down at Eleanor's small frame as she carefully wiped the tears from her face, "Is it all right if I sit with you?"

Eleanor quickly scooted aside, "Of course," she said, still softly, as if afraid to increase the volume of her voice. Edmund did seat himself down, close enough for a friendly space. He said nothing for a while though, to allow Eleanor to calm herself first as it deemed needed. But the lady quickly broke the silence and she looked up at him with worry, "I'm sorry, should I leave?"

Edmund raised his eyebrows, "Of course not," he said benignly, "What makes you think so?"
Eleanor shook her head, "I wouldn't know," she replied, "I just…Do you come here often?"

Edmund nodded, "But what is wealth you don't share?"

Eleanor had no answer to that, but she was grateful for the king's display of kindness, and his presence warm and welcoming. Edmund blew out a breath, mist forming from his mouth as he did so, "This is a nice place to think, isn't it?"

Eleanor nodded and fumbled with her necklace. Edmund furrowed his brow curiously as he stared at the chain. His face drained of color.

Edmund noticed the rest of Eleanor's wounds now. Around her neck was a reddish line, as if a thin chain had been torn against her skin. Her hands, which she had now used to grip the iron bars for support, had more cuts similar to those on her face. Edmund's dark eyes dulled with pain at the very sight of them and he met Eleanor's grey stare, "Tell me, Eleanor," he said softly, "What have I wronged you with?"

Eleanor tilted her head to one side and answered matter-of-factly, "You killed my family," she said.

Edmund swallowed quietly and slightly shook his head. How significant was it that Eleanor did have a necklace after all?

Dreams are games of the mind, Edmund told himself willingly. He glanced back at the chain, "That necklace is very beautiful."

Eleanor let out a soft hum along with a feeble smile as she looked up, "Thank you."

"May I?" Edmund smiled kindly back. Eleanor nodded and opened her palm to allow him to pick up the pendant that faced upward with the designs gleaming smartly. The king stared at the gold as it shone under the moonlight and under the spared amounts of torchlight coming from Cair Paravel.

"It looks so Narnian," he said absently, running a thumb over the Lion's head.

"So I've heard," Eleanor replied with a knowing glint in her eye. Edmund smiled reminiscently as he continued to examine the individual chains of the pendant and he realized that each chain, though surprisingly small as it was, seemed to have an engraving of leaves. He raised his eyebrows in wonder, "The jeweler must have been very talented to forge this," he said and looked up at the lady, "Who gave it to you?"

Eleanor stared at him with saddened eyes before she turned away again. How was she supposed to answer that?

Face him, you cowardly girl. Face him! Eleanor shut her eyes tightly, fighting back the tears.

Edmund soon realized his offense, "I'm sorry," he said truthfully, "I hadn't meant to invade."

Eleanor looked at him again with as much of a reassuring smile as she could, "It's all right," she replied, "I'm not myself at the moment, you know." She had blurted that out. Good grief. Edmund smirked inwardly and held both ends of the chain, "You know," he began, and to Eleanor's surprise, as he placed it around her head and lowered it to her neck. The princess helped him by keeping her hair away. "You ought to take care of it," the king finished and locked the chains in place. Eleanor felt the skin on her neck prickle slightly as Edmund's fingers accidentally brushed against it. Silently, the king withdrew his hands and bent to rest both elbows on his knees. He looked around the gardens with a quick glance before asking, "Do you come here often?"

Eleanor shook her head, "Nay," she replied, "But it's such a beautiful place. It's no wonder you come here yourself."

Edmund hummed and smirked, "I'm not the only who comes here all the time, mind you."

Eleanor furrowed her brow curiously as she entered the more open conversation, "What ever do you mean?" she asked quietly.

"Well, my siblings come here on certain times of the day and for their own reasons," Edmund replied, "Would you like me to tell you a thing or two?"

Eleanor could have chuckled at the mischievous look Edmund had in his eyes if it weren't for her low spirits still struggling to redeem themselves. She smiled mildly however and nodded, "Do tell."

"Lucy," Edmund began, "She's here often enough during the day. If not alone, she would be with either a dryad or a good centaur who knows about plants," the king smiled as he imagined his little sister when she was much younger and they had just begun reign as monarchy, "She started doing that the day after our coronation."

Eleanor smiled in return, "Yes, I do recall her telling me of how fond of herbs and biology she was."

Edmund raised his eyebrows, "Its no wonder you both get along," said he, "Especially since you also seem to know techniques in healing."

Eleanor blushed slightly at the recognition and as Edmund smiled at her with some sort of fondness, "She's always been keen on such things," he continued, "On herbs and biology as you have heard."

Truth be told, the Queen Lucy was renowned for her skill all across the empire from the distant north to the vaster south and over the seas to Galma. How she had developed the hands and passion for it however, still remains unknown for even the Pevensie siblings, and when asked they would simply reply that Narnia was the very reason. Lucy, of course, couldn't agree more.

The lady blinked, "She is delightful company."

Edmund looked away in thought, "And Susan," he said, "She comes here for the most interesting reason of all."

"Oh? For what reason?"

"Suitors."

Queen Susan was just as renowned as her sister across the empire, but for her beauty and her excellent arm in archery, which more often than not, men fell at her feet for. If Susan was not one of the most beautiful women in the lands, then she was the most beautiful in the lands, and even through the first completed year of reign, many a noble would come to seek her hand in marriage. Then of course, none of the queen's brothers would hear of it, (much to the amusement of Lucy) and most especially when the intolerable behavior of a suitor is to be come across. If Peter's formal warnings would not drive them off, Edmund always had a way of being with the men for the sake of intimidation.

By now, Eleanor's spirits were certainly mended enough to let out a small chuckle. Edmund cleared his throat as, to his self-question, his heart raced slightly, and he shook his head to clear his train of thought, "I'm perfectly serious," he grinned.

Eleanor smiled back, "Of course," said she, "You certainly look it."

Edmund tried to wipe off the smirk from his face, but being the jester that he was, all he could do was chuckle along with the lady. The drollery lasted for a few minutes more until Eleanor suddenly felt strange.

How strange? Ah, she seemed to actually be enjoying the king's company, and she made herself aware of how cheerful he had made her in only a short matter of time. Eleanor shook her head inwardly and smiled at the ground as she and the king calmed the last of their merriment.

"Shall I continue?"

Eleanor looked up and found Edmund staring at her with curious eyes. She nodded eagerly, "Please do."

Edmund smiled and shifted in his seat to a more comfortable position before saying, "Peter comes here usually because of me," Edmund said a little solemnly and he smirked, "I mean when I run away from him because I've committed some nasty prank, like the last time I left a Dumb Frog under his pillow and he woke up all sore."

Eleanor clasped her hand over her mouth to hide the seemingly stupid grin on her face. That sounded just like Edmund indeed, and the king seemed to savor reliving the moment through words, "I shan't go on too much about that, however," he said, "Peter will have my head for it. Do be a good girl and keep quiet."

Eleanor smiled, "Certainly, King Edmund," said she.

That was most true, for Edmund had managed to catch a Dumb Frog, through the help of a servant naiad, and tucked it under his brother's pillow when he was still a boy and ruling a kingdom had not yet seemed too serious a matter for any of the monarchy. And as the story goes, High King Peter the Magnificent had a magnificent headache and a magnificent irritation for the whole day, both courtesy of King Edmund the Just.

Soon, the royals had fallen into silence again, and Edmund left the princess to her thoughts while he calmly searched his brain for something to keep up the conversation. Little did he know, Eleanor already had something in mind, and the lady quickly voiced this out, "What about you?"

Edmund glanced at her curiously, "What about me?"

"Yes," Eleanor smiled shyly, "You described and spoke so highly of your siblings. What about you?"

Edmund reddened and avoided Eleanor's eyes. He smiled nervously, "There isn't much to say about me, really."

"You have all the words for your siblings and none for you," the lady pointed out with gentleness, "Do you always speak so lowly of yourself?"

Edmund raised his eyebrows and looked up to reply, but he found Eleanor smiling at him, similar to the way Susan would when she felt smug and so 'logical.' Edmund laughed good-naturedly and shrugged, "Well…" he began and shot a challenging gaze at Eleanor, "Why don't you tell me what I'm like?"

Eleanor was taken aback and she replied without hesitation, "I don't even know you well enough," she said honestly. That put the conversation to a stop as Edmund mulled over his next answer. In a moment, he smiled benevolently at the lady again, his eyes dancing, "Why don't we start now?"

Ortemius quickly made his way down the dark passage, eager to leave at once and escape any notice of the other residents, and especially the kings and queens, of Cair Paravel. Walking as briskly as he might, the sorcerer arrived at the end of the long hall and to a stairwell door that led to the back of the castle, and eventually to the Old Trail. The Teacher stole a glance behind him and gave a quick scan of the halls before he huffed and gathered his thick robes.

Pushing the heavy doors open, Ortemius made his way down the cold stairwell.

This had better go as planned, he thought irritably as he rounded the way down, I won't sleep another night if things go otherwise. Through and through the day, the Teacher had been trying to understand who Lady Eleanor truly was, for strange was her very arrival in the study, and her utter curiosity in Narnia's history (and his own, Ortemius.) But When he saw the abstract pattern of the Varchovîch, everything had become clearer than the Old Teacher could even have hoped for. Lady Eleanor may not be a 'lady' after all, but the princess he had been searching for, for an expanse of his years.

He knew, ever since the feared night of Borovia and all the great sorcerers of the court division failed the kingdom, he knew that one of the monarchy survived when all he saw of the remains of the family was the King Marthelius, Queen Vericha, Prince Ludwig and Princess Mathilda. One was missing, and after all this time of searching he never found her. Still, there was always a sign of her presence, even before he found his place in the Council of Cair Paravel, and that sign made itself known to him through his rings.

Ortemius finally came to the end of the staircase and out to the back of the castle. A pain suddenly shot through his right hand, and the Teacher hid quickly in the shadows, staring down at his garnet ring. He grunted and peered from behind a pillar as a cheetah patroller walked stealthily on the grass, his piercing yellow eyes scanning the surrounding area. The guard stopped and then yawned, flashing all of his teeth.

Ortemius rolled his eyes and attempted to back against the stonewall of Cair even more, hiding his hand underneath his sleeve. He must proceed to the wood at once, before it was too late.

"The three heirs, Teacher," Eleanor said carefully, her voice softening to a degree she had never meant, "Did you teach them as you teach the monarchy of Cair?"

Ortemius chuckled and shook his head, "Nay, Your Grace," he said, "I was part of the Court Division of Sorcerers," the Teacher suddenly paused and narrowed his eyes, deep in thought, "However, now that you have mentioned it, I do recall meeting the Highnesses at one important gathering. It was during the nineties of the Long Winter, and I in fact still remember their names."
"Do tell, Teacher."

"Ah, there was the eldest, Prince Ludwig. He was a fine young man and would have made and excellent ruler," Ortemius swallowed, "Had he the chance. Princess Mathilda was only about a year younger than he, but the youngest, a mere child was named Princess El—" Ortemius suddenly paused and stared back at Eleanor, his eyes conveying a message of great perplexity.

She had to be the princess. She had to be!

It would be the only explanation that seemed logical enough to reveal why they had been so agitated lately. Ortemius shivered as he watched the cheetah rise from his place and continued his way down the path passed the Old Trail. Ortemius looked up at the sky and shook his head. He knew of the sightings today, for such news about Followers got around the castle quickly. He had to take care of things, now that they were obviously very sensitive in nature. The Old Teacher braced himself and threw his hood over his head, and he made his way hastily down the trail.

If Lady Eleanor, for sure, were the princess of Borovia, he would find out tonight.

Edmund buried his head in his hands, laughing defeated as Eleanor giggled by his side. The two have been exchanging riddles to pass the time, and were very much enjoying vexing each other's brains as the puzzles got more and more difficult. Edmund, being a young man of much intellect, proved to be a fine match for Eleanor when he managed to answer the first few riddles directed at him. But he was in fact, also amused by how Eleanor could answer his riddles just as easily. However, the king had already missed three riddles, and now was his fourth. Eleanor was humbly displaying her triumph through her suppressed chuckles.

"All right," Edmund said and glared mockingly at Eleanor, "I've yet another one."

Eleanor shook her head and smiled, "Won't you give in?"

"Absolutely not," the king replied with a smirk, "Are you ready?"

The lady nodded in reply.

"I'm a delight to your eyes
And sweet is my scent
But be mindful of touch
Lest a prick, you get."

Eleanor wrinkled her nose slightly, "How horrid of you."

Edmund grinned and shifted in his seat, watching as Eleanor stared into nothing for a moment, while her eyes narrowed in deep thought.

"A rose?"

Edmund coughed, "And I'm the horrid one?" he asked. Eleanor laughed lightly, "I still have another riddle," she said, "Would you like to hear it?"

Edmund hummed and smiled.

"I am given and received
I am felt but not seen
And if marred, I disappear
And will only heal if you plead sincere"

Edmund raised his eyebrows, "There are many answers to that," he said in slight protest. Eleanor nodded, "True," she smiled, "Unfortunately I can accept only one."

Edmund chuckled and sighed heavily, "Say trust?" The king laughed when the lady's shoulders slumped and she rolled her eyes.

"And I thought I had already confused you."

"Oh, you'll have to do much better than that."

Eleanor folded her hands leisurely on her lap. Being with Edmund was not as cold and reserved as she had thought it would be. And if that'd be so, then the king was truly different from his three other siblings, but in ways she would never be able to fully explain.

Edmund looked suddenly as three griffins flew overhead. He sat up, "Supper will be starting soon," he said and looked at Eleanor's comprehensive eyes, "We have to go."

Eleanor nodded and stood from the bench, preparing to leave. Edmund was faster to stand, after all kings do not wear long flowing skirts, and he anonymously shot his eyes towards the far end of the gardens.

Suddenly, he started and instinctively unsheathed his sword.

Eleanor's eyes widened, "What-?"

"Hush," the king said quickly and stared at the far side of the garden, his sword raised readily to the direction it was meant. Eleanor spun around and saw nothing. Her heart beat wildly in her chest.

With a frustrated sigh, Edmund sheathed his sword again, his eyes still fixed on the brush. I'm tired from the day, and now I'm seeing things. How spectacular. Edmund bit his lip with hesitance, "Did you see anything?" he asked. Eleanor shook her head and stared at him with uncertainty, "Did you?"

"I…I thought I did," Edmund replied absently. He was almost sure enough that he saw a pair of beady eyes staring back at him, but to what beast it belonged to exactly, he could not quite make out. It was just too dark. Yet, Edmund couldn't shake off the feeling that he had seen those eyes before…

"Bother," he mumbled and gestured to Eleanor, "Never mind, I could be wrong."

Eleanor did not say anything aloud, but she knew that the king was only trying to calm her nerves. She nodded silently and walked ahead, Edmund following a few moments after, taking glances behind a few times.

Within minutes, the royals found themselves walking on the front path of the castle and nearing the main entrances of Cair Paravel, where two Satyr Guards stood in post. However, both monarchy looked up at the unexpected sound of a bird's cry. Edmund recognized a smart-looking hawk beating its wings evenly as it circled around them. The king smiled and held out his arm and the hawk took to the welcome at once. Eleanor raised her eyebrows in awe as she saw the creature land gracefully on the king's arm, "Greetings, King Edmund," he said in a calm and firm voice.

"Greetings to you too, Brightfeather," Edmund replied, "Back from the hunt?"

"Indeed, Sire," said the hawk.

"You don't sound too happy about that, Good Hawk."

"Winter cometh," came the reply, "The hunt is difficult."
"I see," Edmund smiled understandingly, "But what brings you to me on this fine evening?"

The hawk cocked its head and blinked its eyes, "Forgive me, Your Majesty," said he, "But I feel quite obliged to greet your companion."

Edmund slapped himself mentally. He had forgotten to introduce Eleanor, "Of course," he said and turned to the lady, "Apologies. This is Lady Eleanor. She visits from the West."

"Salutations, Lady Eleanor," said the hawk with his jerky sort of a nod, "I am Brightfeather."

"Good evening, Brightfeather," Eleanor smiled and nodded in return, marveling at how beautiful the hawk appeared before her. He then turned back to his liege, "The High King has informed me, Sire, that you plan on having a letter delivered to Anvard by morn," said the hawk, "At what hour would you desire me to be at your perch?"

Edmund smiled pleased, "Three after dawn," said he, "Can you also wait if King Lune sees fit to reply?"

"Certainly, King Edmund," Brightfeather bowed his head.

"Excellent," the king raised his arm higher, "Be on your way."

"With a good will, Your Majesty," said the hawk as he flew off, "And pleasantries, Lady Eleanor."

Edmund smirked as he watched the hawk make his way to the direction of the highest battlements. He looked back down at Eleanor and found her smiling peacefully, "Graceful creatures, hawks are," said he.

Eleanor turned her head abruptly to Edmund and agreed, "Oh, they are."

"Come now," said Edmund, "We wouldn't want to be delayed."

Eleanor bit her lip and hesitated for a moment before saying, "Edmund?"

Edmund hummed.

"Thank you for talking to me," Eleanor said, "I didn't quite like being…well…"

"Alone?" Edmund asked gently. Eleanor nodded and avoided the king's gaze. Edmund shrugged and offered his arm, "Man were not meant to be independent, or so they say," he said wisely. Eleanor smiled and accepted the king's arm, "Truth, be told?"

Edmund smiled back, his eyes glinting knowingly under the torchlight, "Definitely."

Author's Note: Ok, so how 'bout some opinions there, eh? : I know you've got some. Lemme hear 'em! Thanks for reading!

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