The day everything changed began very ordinarily. The Kings and Queens stood outside the north gate of the castle, and we principal members of the court made a semicircle around them. A fresh, salty wind was blowing steadily off the sea, making the banners stand straight out and whipping up cloaks and skirts. The sky was a brilliant blue, and wisps of clouds were scudding across it with considerable speed. Before us was a field cleared of trees and bushes and weeds, and before the Kings and Queens stood a contingent of moles with their spades, nodding merrily and blinking their beady eyes in the bright light.

Then the magic ripple through us, changing the air. We looked past the moles, and over the crest of a hill came Pomona, the greatest of all the wood people, dressed in every shade of green imaginable with flowers and leaves twined in her hair. In some places she seemed to diffuse light into a spring green. In others, she had the depth and shadow of dark ivy, veering into the purple of acanthus.

The moles parted for her, bowing as she made her way to the High King. She swept into a curtsey, and as she moved there was the sound of rustling leaves. The High King smiled, and then he and Queen Susan and King Edmund and Queen Lucy all bowed and curtseyed in return. I noticed though, that despite the vibrancy of Pomona, none of them seemed faded or diminished. If anything, their beauty intensified.

'Fair monarchs,' Pomona said. 'Please accept the gift of this orchard from your people. I am come to ensure that it prospers as you have made Narnia prosper.' Then she turned and knelt on the ground, burying her fingers in the grass and murmuring an incantation. When she rose, the grass was already greener, and flowers were blooming.

'Good lady, you and your people, and these good moles, have our gratitude. We are touched and honoured by your kindness,' King Peter said with a gracious smile.

Pomona nodded, and signaled for the moles to begin. They set to immediately, churning up clouds of soil so rich and dark it was almost black. The chief mole, Lilygloves, leaned on his spade to survey the work and then turned to the High King to pronounce, 'Believe me, your Majesty, you'll be glad of these fruit trees one day.'

'Of that, good sir, I have no doubt,' said the High King with a chuckle, not to mock Lilygloves, but because he was merry. We were all merry, and we stayed to watch the moles turn the field into a farm and Pomona scatter the seeds and dryads bring forth the saplings to plant. While all of this transpired, Susan smiled up at me, and I offered her my arm.

I had my twentieth birthday and was now officially of age. In the years since my letter to Orran very little had changed except to progress. I was accepted as a key member of the court, but had gotten no closer to joining the army—though this may have been from lack of trying on my part. Susan and I had continued our flirtation to the point where talk was not of if we would be betrothed, but when. I knew this because Tumnus continued to be a good friend and advisor. I had left my completed manor house that morning to attend the planting.

There was to be a feast that evening in honour of the orchard planting. I knew this was my moment. I should take the afternoon to speak to the High King and then ask for Susan's hand at the party. I could see my path clearly: I would request an official audience that afternoon, and the High King would not be surprised at all and would congratulate me, I would then take Susan aside that evening, draw her away into a courtyard flooded with moonlight and get down on one knee to ask for her hand.

As if she could hear my thoughts, Susan leaned her cheek on my arm. I glanced down at her and she looked up at me, raising her eyes slowly to meet mine and gracing me with a small, private smile as she stroked my arm. I had to admit this was effective. I gazed at King Peter, who was still watching the moles and laughing with a kingly air.

I tried to rehearse what I might say. There was no reason to refuse my suit—I was high born enough, now rich enough. From the outside, we made a lovely couple. Even I thought so as I sometimes caught glimpses of us together in mirrors. Yet I had not kissed her. I could not count the opportunities I had had, when she turned her face up to mine and her eyes sparkled. She was waiting for me to make the first move, but she sent every signal that she could. She was sending signals that very moment as she trailed her fingers down my sleeve. I did want to, or I thought I wanted to. But every time I thought to move, I hesitated—what if those kisses with Simar filled me with more desire than kissing the most beautiful woman in the world?

Then there came the horn call. At first I struggled to place the sound—I knew it, but couldn't think from where. When it sounded again I recognised a Calormene horn. A moment later, one of the royal guard crested the hill with a Calormene messenger behind him.

The messenger cast about, trying to find King Peter. The other members of the court were as amused as they were bemused—his bearing alone made his title apparent. But I saw the messenger's problem. The High King, one of the most powerful and feared men in all the world, was not lounging in a litter, attended by a gaggle of servants, nor was he covered head to toe in jewels. Rather, he was wearing only his crown and scarlet cloak embroidered with a golden lion. None of these were the trappings of power.

Finally the messenger figured it out, bowed low, and intoned, 'O great barbarian king, in the name of Tash the inexorable and the Tisroc, may he live forever, I bring a message from the ambassadors of our most powerful, most mighty ruler. They crave an audience with you tomorrow, at noon.'

King Edmund cocked an eyebrow. 'A messenger to announce an emissary?' He murmured. Susan shushed him even so.

The High King was momentarily nonplussed, but he kept his face fairly impassive. Only his hesitation showed it. After a pause he declared, 'Of course we shall grant this. We are honoured to receive the ambassadors of the Tisroc. Go and bring word that they should present themselves in the throne room tomorrow at eleven o'clock.'

The messenger scurried off, and King Peter watched him go, rubbing his chin. 'Odd,' he murmured, 'We have heard so little from Calormen before now. This seems out of the blue.'

'I'd wager they want something,' Edmund declared.

'Quite possibly—but what?' King Peter replied. 'Calormen has ten times the size and wealth of Narnia. What can we offer them?'

The High King decreed that all the members of the court should attend the reception of the Calormene ambassadors. I thought this wise, as Calormenes very much believed in ceremony. And so the next morning I was there when the Calormene horn sounded, and the ambassadors strode in with veiled slave girls strewing petals before them and a contingent of guards behind. These were clearly for show, as they carried only spears and had bare chests under waistcoats instead of armour. The ambassador stepped down from his litter and made obsequious bows and made a long speech praising each of the Kings and Queens but subtly praising the Tisroc more. I glance over at King Edmund, and his slightly pursed mouth and half closed eyes said he was very bored. I tried not to snicker. Susan, for her part, looked both puzzled and concerned, and she fretted her hands in her lap.

After the presentation of gifts, at which point most of the court were visibly losing patience, the ambassadors got to the heart of their message. 'Most puissant High King, we are come to this court on behalf of the noble crown prince, Rabadash, descendant in a right line from the god Tash. He has heard tell of the beauty of your Queen, she who is called Susan, for it is known the world over. Now that we have seen with our own eyes, we are here to present you with the Prince's royal suit. He wishes to know Queen Susan's beauty for himself and desires to present himself to the Queen, that you may see what a favourable match he is for her.'

The Kings and Queens all started at this speech. King Edmund, who had been slumping in his throne, sat upright. Queen Lucy's eyes widened, and her jaw even dropped a bit. The High King visibly reined in his surprise, and only pressed his lips together, while Queen Susan went pale, then blushed and put her fingers to her lips.

I felt several people turn to me, but I did not grace this with a reaction. I made a task of studying the stained glass behind the thrones and acting as though this was of no import.

'Your gracious offer is kindly received,' said the High King at last. 'Naturally, we shall need time to consider—'

'Let him come,' Queen Susan interrupted. 'This Prince Rabadash. I will see him.'

There was a collective gasp at this. Even the High King turned to stare at his sister. The ambassadors shifted—they didn't know what to do with a woman speaking her own mind. Susan gazed steadily back at her elder brother, and after a minute he turned back to the ambassadors and said in a blank voice, 'Tell the Prince we will gladly receive him.'

The ambassadors bowed, and over their heads Susan met my eyes. She arched her brows. It was the slightest movement, but it changed her face completely, from soft and delicate to brittle and sharp. In that moment, she looked almost identical to Edmund. I let myself dwell on this so that I did not have to understand the meaning of her expression. But it was all too clear to be ignored. 'You would not speak. Now you have lost your chance.'

The change Rabadash was about to bring hung on the breeze as we stood on the pier waiting for his ship to come in. For me, the moment rather felt like watching the Kings and Queens put in to Narrowhaven those years ago. The Prince on the ship could be anyone; we knew only that he was crown prince of Calormen and that he wanted to meet Susan. The warmth of the summer sun was on us, and the air was filled with that same slow anticipation. The High King stood perfectly still except for his hand which clasped and unclasped the lion's head on his sword at intervals. Queen Susan stood quite close to her elder brother, and King Edmund and Queen Lucy both had furrowed brows.

In the intervening weeks since the ambassadors had come, my relationship with Susan had taken a turn. We danced together, walked together as we had, but she challenged me with looks each time, daring me to speak my mind, or perhaps kiss her in a fit of passion. If I did, I perhaps could have won her. Yet still I could not make myself, and when I was home I paced the floors and tugged at my hair, asking myself why not. Why not. I would vow to speak the next time. I played scenes of taking her in my arms and kissing her, but when I found myself face to face with her once more, I could not act. I pretended I could not say what stopped me, but I knew. I just did not want it to be true.

With great fanfare of drums and trumpets, preceded by veiled girls who strew his path with flowers, the turbaned, bejewelled, and perfumed prince descended the gangway. Queen Lucy coughed loudly, but it rather looked like she was laughing, and King Edmund smirked at her.

The other Narnians began murmuring in amazement of his getup, but in my eyes he was exactly what I would expect of a crown prince of Calormen. In fact, I suspected he had toned down some of his most extravagant apparel, for his beard was not dyed and his moustache unwaxed, and his clothes were shiny silks embroidered with gold but not bejewelled. He also left off the curls on his slippers and the bells which usually hung off those curls. I had seen pictures of princes in my uncle's book and puzzled over them when I was a child.

He strode up to King Peter and made a perfect flourish of a Calormene bow. 'O mighty king who has weathered the winds of war to have the sun smile down on him in victory, I, Rabadash, Crown Prince of Calormen, salute you and thank you for your most gracious hospitality. I—'. And here he broke off as he laid eyes on Susan and put his hand over his heart. 'Lady,' he said, 'Forgive me. I owe you many compliments, but your beauty has struck me dumb. It is an honour just to have seen you.'

Queen Susan blushed then, and offered him her hand, which he bowed over and touched his forehead to, but did not kiss.

'You are welcome, Prince,' King Peter said. He didn't really look at Rabadash, though, and his voice was cool and distant. If Rabadash noticed this, he did not let on. I wasn't sure that he noticed, though, for he seemed too busy ravishing Susan with looks.

From that first hour Rabadash made his desire for the Queen apparent. Through all the official greetings and ceremony, he could not keep his eyes off her. He ravaged her with looks, ignorant of the astonishment of her siblings. He danced with her at the ball that evening, and I never saw anyone turn a folk tune into something so sensual. Susan all but swooned in his arms.

When the High King came to reclaim his sister, Rabadash began circulating and talking to the Narnians. He spent his time apart from her talking about her as much as he could, as though he were lovestruck. I gathered that he was also ferreting out information from the innocent Narnians.

I was therefore not astonished when his courtiers came up to me and said the prince desired me to present myself to him. I followed them to where Rabadash was sitting and made my bow.

'So,' said Rabadash in a silky voice. 'This is the lord who is meant to be my rival.' He leaned forward in his chair, an elbow on his knee. 'They say you could have asked for the queen's hand a dozen times over and never did. What sort of fool does that when she is the most beautiful woman.' He broke off here and spent a minute watching Susan as she danced with Edmund. 'No—not a fool. Only a half man would waste the chance to be with her.' Only the word he used was not half man, but a Calormene slur which amounted to cock lover. I knew this word and its intention well enough, thanks to my uncle.

Rabadash and his companions laughed. I smiled and laughed weakly as though I hadn't understood and their redoubled laughter told me my feigned ignorance had been a success. A relief, because I did not want to let him know how close he had been to the mark.

A/N: Now we get into it!