Enna woke early the next morning, her nerves too taught to allow for much sleep. She could see the tall ships bobbing in the bay outside—was it just her, or were there more today?—and the cold wind whipped snow from the eaves around her window.

Aslan had been right. She had trodden on her hem and fallen ill, just as he had said, and the Sea had indeed brought great terror to her! The implications of this made her head spin, but she forced the thoughts away so she could concentrate on the present. Her old captor waited on one of those mighty warships, perhaps knowing she watched him from the castle, and the mere thought made her clench the doors of her wardrobe until her knuckles turned white.

She momentarily considered wearing the red undergown from the night before, but she imagined Sabsestrin's lecherous eyes following her every move. A drab, dark color would do best for today's duties, a good and solemn color. Her hands itched to brush her waves back into a meek plait, but she had to restrain herself, knowing that it would only serve to ease her uncle's recognition of her—the last thing she wanted or needed.

Thus Enna went about her morning routine, every single act affected in some way by her venomous uncle. She found herself quickly and alarmingly falling back into her old ways, tying her stays firmly so they wouldn't come undone, drawing her sleeves down over the bruiseable flesh of her hands, and wearing several underdresses so as to make herself appear as shapeless as possible.

The knock that sounded at her door made her jump, but she took a deep breath and opened it to find Aramir standing in the hall, dusky circles under his eyes but his clothes neat and clean and Arondight gleaming at his hip.

"You look as though you haven't slept a wink," Enna said, her brow furrowing as she let him in.

He lowered himself to the cushioned seat in her window well, resting his head against the fogged glass with a sigh. "I couldn't stop thinking about…well, everything. How your uncle has come back, and how you…how you came up with that ingenious plan yesterday, sending the horses off like that…and how the Galmanians could just fire upon Narnia like that."

Enna sat next to him, running her fingers through her snarled curls. "Why did you worry? Peter and his siblings are wise and diplomatic, I'm sure they know what to do."

"But the Galmanians have already done one underhanded thing," Aramir countered. "Who's to say they won't again?"

Enna didn't quite know what to say.

"I don't believe that you didn't have trouble sleeping, either," he went on, looking at her. "It took an uncommon courage to stay here, Enna—either that or plain foolishness, but I've not seen much of the latter in you."

"Oh, it's not courage," Enna scoffed. "It's a sense of duty, nothing else. I was honored that you stayed with me."

He slipped his big hand around hers and with his thumb brushed the veil of bandage covering the slight blisters she'd gotten the night before. "Someone's got to watch out for you, apparently."

"I can take care of myself," she retorted, standing up. "That seems to be something you and Peter forget quite a lot."

"Enna…" Aramir sighed and followed her. "You can't be completely self-dependent, you know. Look at Peter—he needs his siblings to rule effectively. You need someone there to—to help you up when you trip, or…dress your wounds." He took her wrist and held her bandaged hand up for her to see. "Your father wasn't able to do that, and your uncle certainly failed in his attempts."

Enna winced involuntarily at the mention of Sabsestrin, pulling her hand free from his grasp. "Please, I'd rather not discuss that."

Aramir didn't press the subject, choosing instead to sit on the chest at the foot of her bed as she slowly ran the horsetail brush through her hair. "How does your hand feel?"

"Oh, fair," she replied. "It scarcely huts anymore. Thank you for wrapping it for me."

"My pleasure."

Enna kept brushing out her long hair, sweeping it over one shoulder to reach the ends. "So…do you think Peter will have us hidden today? He said he wanted us present, but not visible."

"Perhaps," Aramir replied.

"And what of the Nymrunians? They are in the midst of marriage negotiations, and a war is possible."

"I doubt that will deter them. They seem set on having Her Majesty for their Majesty."

"From what I heard, Queen Susan does not look favorably on them. Peter said she was planning to turn their offers down."

"Interesting. How is the ambassador, himself? I saw you met him."

"Oh, he is nice enough, I suppose," Enna answered. "You remember how I consider his politics, though."

"How could I forget?" Aramir smirked.

"'Of all persons to have intellect, a lady would be the last'," Enna said, mimicking the man's rolling accent and elegant pronunciation as she set down the brush and went to the window.

Aramir chuckled.

Enna smiled to herself, unlatching the panes of glass and opening them wide. "What o'clock is Peter to meet with them at?"

A frigid blast of air blew a breath of snow into the room. "No later than nine," Aramir replied, coming to lean on the sill next to her. "Are you at all anxious?"

"Anxious? About meeting my uncle?" Enna scoffed. "Of course not. He does not frighten me anymore. I have proven myself better than his manipulation."

"Do you carry any resemblance between you?"

"No! I mean, I don't believe so." She shuddered at the idea and leaned out the window. "But he still doesn't daunt me like he used to. Do you hear that? I'm not afraid!"

Her voice rang out against the nearby stone battlements, throwing the defiant shout back towards them a hundred times before dying away. Aramir put his hands on her shoulders and drew her back into the room, brushing the snow from her sleeves and closing the window with a quiet click. "I think you're more scared than you let on."

"Preposterous," Enna scoffed uncomfortably, knowing he was right. "I…He can do nothing to me."

Aramir touched one of her uncooperative curls, a fondness on his face that made Enna feel oddly secure. "You are the stubbornest lass I know. It's all right to be afraid."

She bit her lip. "All right—I'm scared witless. I could hardly sleep last night, knowing that that…that blackguard is at my very doorstep! What will I do, Aramir, every time I think on it my breath gets short and I want to run as fast as I can in the other direction!"

"Keep your head, is what I would suggest," he said calmly. "There's no sense in getting hysterical."

Enna took a deep breath and let it out again. "You're right."

"I think what you have done is the most lionhearted thing I have seen in many years," he went on.

"What, staying? That was foolish of me."

"Perhaps, but it was lionhearted nonetheless."

"We'll see."

Aramir chuckled. "You may be more afraid than you let on, Enna, but I think you are also more mettlesome than you say."

Enna shook her head. "I am quite the yellow-belly, as I am sure you will soon find…"

It was well that another knock sounded at the door at this moment, for Aramir had chosen to look maddeningly arch instead of answering Enna right away. Enna wavered between opening the door and giving Aramir a piece of her mind for a moment before deciding that the person at the door might be important, and thereby going to open it.

Peter stood outside, leaning on her doorpost. "It's time," he said simply.

Those two words made Enna's knees go weak, and she tightened her grip on the door briefly. "Yes…all right."

She turned away to get her cloak and Peter stepped into the cozy room, looking a bit out of place in his richly-embroidered jerkin and crown pushed resolutely down over his fair brow.

"What is Aramir doing here, Enna?" he asked after a momentary pause.

Enna turned partway around, combing her hair one last time, and saw the odd look on his face. "Oh—he came to fetch me," she replied, blushing at the realization of how questionable the circumstances must look. "Just a few minutes ago."

Peter nodded briefly and folded his arms across his chest as Enna pinned her cloak at her throat. "I would prefer you to bring your bow," he said.

She looked at him curiously. "Why?"

"I…I want you and Aramir nearby but out of sight," Peter said, a bit uncomfortably. "But there is no guarantee that you will not be seen, or found…I wish that you have protection. You have Arondight, Aramir?"

"As always, sire."

"Do you think we will have need of them?" Enna asked, biting her lip and going to fetch her bow and quiver.

"I pray to Aslan no," Peter replied. He took her quiver from her hands and helped her buckle it against her back. "But, nevertheless…"

Enna chewed her lip nervously, her heart beginning to race.

Peter sighed. "But do not fear, I'm sure it will go by quickly and painlessly. Are you both ready?"

"Aye, sire," Aramir replied.

"Very well, then." Peter nodded and opened the door for Enna and Aramir. "It's a little before nine, but we are prepared to meet the Galmanians."

Enna put her shoulders back, her quiver digging comfortingly into them, and marched from her room, boots scraping the flagstones as she and her two companions went down to the courtyard.

"You and Aramir will sit in one of the boathouses," Peter explained as they began the trek through now-muddy snow to the harbor. "The treaty tent is set up outside it, so you must position yourself near the door so you can hear."

"Aye."

"I may come to consult you, Enna," Peter said, looking down at her. "Are you willing to help?"

"Am I? Of course!"

"Excellent."

The rest of the trip went by in silence, too restless were the three to think of conversation to make. When they neared the harbor, however, Enna spoke up. "Peter, Aramir, how many Galmanian ships were moored here last night?"

"Five," Aramir replied.

Enna furrowed her brow and counted the ones she saw in the bay now. "Well…I see twelve now."

Peter and Aramir shaded their eyes and looked out across the glinting waters. "I believe you are right, Enna," Peter said. "Perhaps reinforcements arrived during the night?"

"By the lion, I hope you manage to make an acceptable peace with them today," Aramir said.

"I do, as well, Aramir."

Enna's heart was pounding in her ears now—there were so many of them. If 200 souls could be engaged on a Galmanian man-o'-war, there must be nearly 2,500 men ready to unleash Sabsestrin's fury on the Narnians! The mere sum was enough to tempt her to run away again.

In a moment, they reached the plank walkway, where dozens of Narnians milled anxiously about. A scarlet tent had already been erected in front of a warship shelter, and its drapings fluttered in the cold breeze. "Nigh on nine o'clock," called out a faun nearby.

"Just in time," Peter said, hurrying towards the boathouse and wrenching an immense door open. "Here is where you'll stay—Lucy? Susan!"

The two queens had obviously been counting on their hiding place going undiscovered—they leapt to their feet, their hair plaited and unadorned, as were their simple, rather dirty-kneed gowns.

"Hello, Peter," Queen Susan said sheepishly, kicking a few comfy pillows out of sight.

This didn't escape Peter, who folded his arms. "What are you two doing down here? I told you to stay in the castle with the Nymrunians and others!"

"Oh, Peter, don't be ridiculous," said Queen Lucy. "Did you really expect me and Susan to sit in that stone box like do-nothings while you and Edmund get to be all kingly? If you did, my kind brother, then you are in for a rude awakening."

Enna resisted the temptation to laugh.

"It's safer for you up there," Peter insisted.

"Well, you have Lady Enna and Lord Aramir down here, don't you?" Lucy challenged. "And we brought pillows and a picnic lunch in case things go long. And they most certainly will."

Peter sighed as the faun called out, "Nine o'clock!"

"Fine. But be silent!"

"Promise," said Susan, beckoning Enna and Aramir into the building. Peter closed the door partway, and the light dimmed drastically.

"Are you anxious, Lady Enna?" Queen Susan whispered, giving her a pillow to sit upon.

"Yes," Enna admitted.

Lucy took her hand and squeezed it, and then they all found a crack in the wall to peer through. Nothing happened at first, just Narnians getting into position and a bell clanging twice to mark the naval time.

Enna fixed her eyes on the foremost ship and waited for the approach of a rowboat.

A half-hour passed silently until the naval bell tolled thrice—it was nine thirty in the morning, and nothing had happened. At the sound, Aramir sighed and got up and opened the door, the two queens looking at each other and Enna. Enna saw him go into the tent, and come out again with Peter and King Edmund, who were angry judging by the way their hands were balled at their sides.

"What do you suppose is going on?" Queen Susan whispered.

"Nothing much," Queen Lucy replied. "Let's go and find out."

The three girls leapt to their feet and hurried from the building, blinking in the blinding sunlight. "Edmund, Peter, what's happening?" Queen Lucy said. "Why haven't the Galmanians come?"

"We don't know, Lucy," Edmund replied. "We're preparing a boat to go to them."

"Oh!" Susan cried. "Do be careful!"

"We will, Susan, don't fret," Peter soothed her.

"I'm going to come along, Peter," Enna said firmly.

He looked at her, his lips in a thin line, but didn't argue. When Edmund called to him from the dock, he nodded to her and Aramir, getting into the wobbly boat by several fauns, three satyrs, four grumpy-looking Dwarfs, and a fox, and holding out a hand. Enna stepped in, her Galmanian legs easily adjusting to the dip of the waves. Aramir climbed in after her, making the boat rock alarmingly.

"I'm going to come, too," Queen Lucy stated, and climbed into the boat before Peter and Edmund could stop her. "I can wield a mean dagger, as you all know."

"Too well," said King Edmund with a grimace as he climbed in behind her.

"If we're gone more than fifteen minutes," Peter said to Queen Susan as she wrung her hands, "Alert Alfgautor. He will know what to do."

"Ooooh, I don't like this, not one bit," Queen Susan said fretfully.

"Ready to shove off, sir?" said the Dwarf at the helm.

Peter waved once to Susan. "Weigh anchor."

"Aye, sir."

Enna settled into her seat as the Dwarf loosed the lashing, and the boat began to drift away from the dock. The Dwarfs nearby took up the oars and propelled the craft quickly through the gently tossing Sea, the sloshing of the water against the wooden sides a strangely comforting sound to Enna, whose rapidly pounding heart threatened to drown out the rush of the ocean waves.

The frigates loomed above their small rowboat far sooner than Enna preferred, the silent figures' riggings creaking loudly as they rocked to and fro. The little keel bumped against the side of the foremost ship as the Dwarfs guided it close, and Peter stood.

"Halloa up there!" he called. His voice echoed against all the bobbing man-o'-wars, but there was no answering shout.

"Sire?" said the satyr on Enna's left.

"I wish to board," Peter said, putting his hands at his hips.

"Peter…" Queen Lucy said disapprovingly.

"If you insist, sire," said the Dwarf across from Enna. He stood on stubby, sturdy legs, a thick knot of rope with a barb on the end dangling from his hand. "I'll go first, then, sire? Scout out the deck?"

"Yes, Farulfir, if you don't mind it."

"Not a'tall. Watch yer heads, now." The red-bearded Dwarf leaned back, the boat tipping dangerously, and began to swing the thick rope in a circle, the hook on the end flashing in the sunlight. "One…ter…three…!" With a grunt, Farulfir released his lasso, and they all watched it sail through the air, lazily almost, with the rope trailing out behind it. It disappeared over the railing, and a moment later they heard a dull thud. Farulfir tugged on the rope (Enna saw now that it was really a rope ladder), and it scraped across the deck and then held fast.

"After you, then," Edmund said, sitting back.

Farulfir grunted, and then leapt up onto the ladder, his short little arms and legs taking him up it at a surprising rate of speed. After a moment, he was clambering over the railing and out of sight.

Aramir's big hand closed over Enna's, and Queen Lucy's on her other, and she looked gratefully at them.

A minute passed, and then Farulfir's shaggy red head appeared above them. "There's no one 'ere, sire. The deck's clear."

Peter muttered something under his breath, but pushed his crown down further over his brow and proceeded to climb up the rope.

"Quite undignified, don't you think?" Queen Lucy whispered to King Edmund, her face red with suppressed laughter.

"Yes, quite," snickered Edmund.

"Quiet, you two," Peter shouted down at them.

Enna smiled to herself.

Peter was over the rail in a moment, and called down for someone else to come up. "Oh, I will," Queen Lucy said, and picked up the fox in one arm before easily climbing the rather frayed-looking rope.

Aramir went up next, and beckoned for Enna to follow, which she did shakily. He and Peter both helped her over the rail.

"I suppose we'll just stay here and make sure the boat doesn't float away," said one satyr dolefully, his voice echoing strangely up from the water.

Enna looked about the deck. It was uncannily deserted, the sails hanging limp over the masts, and it looked as though it had been neatly cleaned before night watch—that in itself wasn't unusual for a Galmanian ship, but it was nearly ten o'clock in the morning: there should be sailors and other crewmembers scurrying about the deck.

But there was no one, not even a cabin boy.

"There's no one in the brig, Your Majesties," said one of the Dwarfs that had come up after Enna, closing the door that went down into the bowels of the ship.

"No one?" Peter repeated. "Not a soul?"

"None."

He turned and began conversing with his siblings, and Enna looked around. She had been on a Galmanian warship only thrice in the entirety of her life, but there was a strange feeling of something not being right that she couldn't shake. The deck seemed too…bare, too open. It was nearly fifty feet across—all that space wouldn't be left unused.

"Is something missing from the deck?" she asked Aramir in a low voice.

"Yes."

"Well? What?"

He looked down at her, his face grim. "The longboats."

Enna looked back at the deck, her heart and mind racing. The swift, shallow vessels, four or five to a frigate, could travel leagues upstream in a matter of hours, especially under the skillful hands of Galmanian sailors. "The longboats—oh, Aramir. By Gale himself…oh, Gale. Oh, Gale. Peter!"

Peter looked up as she ran across the deck towards him. "What is it, Enna? What's the matter?"

Enna was near absolute panic at this point, and she ran her hands through her thick hair, fighting for composure. "Oh, Peter—Peter, they've gone. The Galmanians have gone."

"Gone? Well, where could they have gone to?"

"The longboats. They're missing."

Peter looked at her, wide-eyed. "How many to a ship?"

"Four, five, perhaps six."

His face, and that of his brother, turned instantly grave.

"What?" Queen Lucy asked, her own young face going pale. "What does that mean? Could they not have sailed back to Galma?"

"Why would they have?" Edmund said sharply. "They are looking for one thing from us, and they will do anything, it seems to have it."

"Well, what is it?" Lucy asked impatiently.

"It is our friend Lady Enna," King Edmund replied.

The blood rushed from her head at this veiled resentment, but Peter stepped in front of her, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "This is no time for backbiting, Edmund. The Galmanians have gone up the Great River into Narnia, I am given to conclude, and we must repel them."

"'Ow, sire?" said Farulfir.

"Summon the armies," Peter said, his voice ringing out across the deck and echoing against the limp sails of the surrounding ships. "I want every man-at-arms fully outfitted for battle, ready for mobilization by this afternoon."

"And then what, sire?" said the fox at Queen Lucy's feet.

"We shall pursue them with all haste," Peter answered. "I only hope we head them off before they trespass any further."

Enna closed her eyes briefly. This was her fault…

"Very good, sire."

Peter's hand came down firmly on Enna's shoulder, and she looked up at his determined face. "It is Enna they want…but it is a war they shall get."