'Oi, Peridan!' Edmund called into the weapons shed. 'How long is this going to take?'

'A mere moment, Sire!' I called back, rubbing the oil into my chest. I laughed to myself as I did, imagining Edmund's discomfort at having to wear this himself. I pulled a face at myself, shook my head, and strode out into the arena where Edmund was waiting with his siblings.

'I thought I should give you the full effect,' I said, spreading my arms. As I reached them I struck a pose, my hands on my hips. Peter, Susan, and Lucy fell to laughing.

'What on earth are you wearing?' Edmund frowned.

'The traditional costume!' I said. 'Look. Here is the embroidered waistcoat—usually done by the lady of the house—and the starched cotton for the skirt, and the sandals which lace up the calf, and the hat.' I preened before him.

Edmund knocked my cap askew as he pulled a face. 'Do you know what you look like?'

'You, when you take to the dance floor a few nights hence,' I said with a grin. 'Now come—you'll need to perfect your backflip before then.'

More laughing from Lucy, Peter, and Susan. I couldn't stop smiling.

'You're enjoying this, aren't you,' Edmund said to me.

'Well,' I said, 'I admit you'll look very fetching in this yourself.'

For a split second I froze. When Edmund didn't instantly react to such a flirtatious line, I forced myself forward, pretending I had said nothing out of the ordinary. I offered him my hand to lead him into the dance.

He clapped his hand into mine, and for the briefest flash of a moment, his face changed. His eyes went wide—they darkened even further, almost melting. His mouth went slack. He gripped my hand tighter. His whole body seemed to tense. Before I could examine it, the look was gone, replaced by his usual wry resignation. He rolled his eyes at the teasing of his siblings and then showed them up by performing admirably. I taught him more than half the dance before the monarchs were called to their next function.

I stood alone in the arena and watched him go. What was his expression? Had I imagined it? Simar's words swirled in my head: he might be like us. Hearing them from someone else was worse. I covered my ears. I went into the weapons shed to change back into my clothes and set up the practice dummy myself before calling for my swords. I practiced with such fury that my chest was heaving and my body dripped with sweat. Every time I paused to catch my breath my thoughts chased me down. Edmund had the sketch of Gale and Peridan. He wanted it. He might be like me. That dream after Anvard. The dozen other dreams I had where his eyes glowed like dark candles. And then I would attack the dummy with renewed fury because I could not listen to my own thoughts anymore.

'Seems the Kings' Champion feels he needs to swot up for the tournament.'I turned and saw Gormal there with Rehan.

I sighed as I thrust my sword into the practice dummy. 'Don't you have anything better to do, Gormal?' I said. 'I realise my sword fighting is quite mesmerising, but I didn't pick out you for an admirer.'

'He thinks he's something of a wit,' Rehan informed Gormal.

'Your powers of observation are keen indeed,' I said with a roll of my eyes. I pulled the sword from the dummy and made to leave the field.

Of course Gormal stopped me, pressing his fingertips into my shoulder. 'You can't be one of them. They're the saviours of Narnia, and you are nothing more than a faggot who disgusts everyone.'

'I'll bear that in mind,' I said. Without intending to, I had borrowed Edmund's tone of wry dismissiveness. I strode past him to go inside. I commanded a bath and sat in it hugging my knees and staring off into the room. I combed my fingers through my hair, digging my fingertips into my scalp. I felt for the scars on my back, twisting my hands to reach more of the ruined skin.

When I emerged nearly two hours later, I dressed for dinner. I wondered if it would be easier if I were to just fade into Narrowhaven by myself and get some food from a market stall. Or if I found Orran and hid at his retiring house until I didn't know when. The question persisted though—where was he?

I had all but decided on skiving off dinner when I exited my rooms, but I met Barran, who seemed to be waiting for me. I tilted my head at him.

'I'm sorry to hear of how my son has been treating you. I've told Gormal to leave you alone,' he said.

'Oh,' I said.

'You are the Emperor's honoured guest. It would be wrong to treat you so.'

'Oh.' That seemed the only thing I could say.

'Before we go down to dinner, I wondered if you would care to enjoy a drink with me,' he said in his most officious voice.

My brows lifted to my hairline. I could count on my hands the times that Barran had spoken to me personally, and most of those were for official reasons—like when he installed me as the Lord of Lionshaim after my father died. Something was up.

I followed him to his parlour and found that his entire family was assembled off to the side of the room: his wife, his two daughters, even Gormal. He squashed his hulking form into a chair, scowling.

Barran installed me into one of the carved chairs at the inlaid table. This was a small table meant for negotiations—we had one in a parlour on Avra, though I had never seen it used for such purposes. Barran poured a drink in a small golden cup from a crystal decanter and passed it to me.

'Some fortified wine,' he said. 'This used to be your father's favourite.' He chuckled. 'How many times I saw him and Lord Orran polish off a bottle together. No mean feat—it's strong stuff, this.'

I clenched my teeth, but managed to make a noise something like a laugh. I looked into the cup and took the tiniest sip for formality's sake. 'Speaking of him,' I said, managing to sound pleasant and casual. 'Where is Lord Orran? I have not seen him since I returned to the Islands.'

The pleasant expression Barran had pasted on fell from his face at once. 'He remains at his estates on Avra.'

'But why?' I pressed. 'He would not dishonour the Emperor.' I did not add aloud that I knew he would not forget me either.

'You are best to ask him,' said Barran in the clipped tones which I knew him for.

I sighed through my nose and swirled the liquid in my cup.

Barran rallied himself and smiled again. 'A toast. To your success and good fortune. You have returned to these Islands a distinguished man indeed, my Lord.'

Every muscle in my body tensed. I had longed for this recognition and celebration, but everything about it felt wrong. I clinked glasses with Barran, using the opportunity to scan his face and read his motivations. He was a good negotiator, though, and revealed nothing.

'You have done well to earn the honour of the Kings and Queens. They hold you in very great esteem,' he observed.

I squared my shoulders and put on my own smile. 'That is a testament to their graciousness.'

Barran forced a chuckle. 'Not entirely. You were always a clever boy.' At this, Gormal snorted, and Barran shot him a dark look. He turned back to me. 'It is a shame you had to leave in the manner you did.'

'Yes,' I agreed. I could scarcely get the air out to speak. 'A shame.' I curled my hand round the arm of the chair, tracing the grooves of the carvings with my fingertips.

'But time has passed. You have grown into a knight, and a trusted advisor to the king. The time has come to put the past behind us, don't you think?'

I tried to swallow, but couldn't. I forced myself to think. I needed to find out what he wanted before I could strategise. I had to play along.

'That is my hope,' I acknowledged, raising the glass to him.

'To that end, I believe the time has come to make amends.' Here he looked to Gormal, who scowled even deeper. Barran continued to stare at him until he pushed himself up from his chair. He crossed, and knelt at my chair as a supplicant. I very nearly pushed my chair back from him, but I forced myself to remain still.

'Forgive me I have been cruel to you in the past and undeservedly so now it is time to make amends let there be no more harsh words between us and from this day let us look on each other as brothers,' Gormal said in a monotonous rush, exactly as he did his recitations at school. He had clearly been made to memorise this insincere apology.

I fingered the carvings on the arm again. Edmund always put on a front of friendliness to Rabadash. I smiled and gave a gracious nod, even while the echoes of his insults still rang in my ears from that afternoon. 'Indeed. Petty rivalries are of no use to anyone,' I said. I took courage from how detachedly pleasant I sounded.

Gormal grunted under his breath, got up, and resumed his seat. As he slumped into it, still scowling, I noticed his sisters tense and straighten.

'Excellent,' declared Barran, clapping his hands and then rubbing them together. 'Now that our friendship has been renewed, we should think about how we can help each other.'

He came to it quite quickly, which meant this was important.

'Lord Peridan, you crave a renewed reputation here in the Lone Islands. Else why would you have returned?' He continued to smile, but his eyes narrowed and grew sharper.

I weighed up my words, played them through as a game of chess. 'Meanwhile, your Sufficiency believes I have something in my power to grant you.' I poured myself more wine. 'I would imagine it has something to do with their Majesties.'

Barran burst into a bright, false laugh. 'Clever as always,' he said, wagging a finger at me. I had wrong footed him by cutting through the ruse.

I sat back and took another tiny sip of wine. 'Well then? What do you propose?' My heart was hammering so hard I could feel the blood pounding in my temples.

'Very well. I will be frank. You wish to escape your reputation. We wish to solidify our position on the Islands. The ground is shifting beneath our feet. The Emperor speaks of us taking our seats in Narnia. He may choose to appoint a new governor. You know what a disaster this would be.'

'Let us say I do. What is your solution?' I said.

'Alliances,' Barran said. 'Between yourself and the people of your home, between their Majesties and the people of the Island. One link in the chain is already forged: that between yourself and the kings and queens. Join the other links and we can build the empire for the benefit of all.'

'And how do you plan to forge the chain?' I asked.

'Through the strongest bond of all—the creation of family,' Barran said. 'I have two daughters, as you know. I ask you to introduce Maiara to King Edmund, counsel her on how to win his heart, for it is widely known that he trusts you above all his other courtiers. In exchange, we reforge the bonds between our families. We are distant cousins now, but we could be as father and son. You could take my daughter Corana's hand. Then we would all be as one family.'

My stomach lurched. For a moment I thought I would actually be sick. I looked over at Corana, and she mustered a nervous smile. I felt so achingly sorry for her. Maiara looked more hopeful—of course she did. She had everything to play for. She could become royal consort, married to a devastatingly handsome man.

I closed my eyes and swallowed. Reason after reason why I should not even entertain this idea rushed up at me, even beyond my love for Edmund. Barran clearly thought himself a mastermind, but his idea was rooted in the Island ways. I put my hand to my forehead, trying to sift through what I should say aloud and what I should keep silent. How to extricate myself.

'You can't be such an idiot to refuse!' Gormal cried.

'Peace, Gormal!' Barran said, but there was a note of panic in his voice.

'Look at him, Father! He's being an idiot—again.'

'Rather, I am thinking that you have overestimated my influence,' I said, lifting my head. 'I cannot force King Edmund into a marriage.'

Barran gave a nervous laugh. 'Certainly not. But you can make introductions. You can advise Maiara here. And that is all we ask. Agree to that, and we will make Corana your bride. We shall draw up the betrothal papers tomorrow. Think what marrying the governor's daughter will do for your reputation here. It is the last piece of the puzzle for you to resume your ancestor's glory. And we all know that was your father's wish for you.'

Another wave of nausea passed over me. 'You offer a very—interesting proposal. I should like to think about it.'

'Naturally,' Barran said, and he gestured me towards the balcony.

I stepped outside and shut the door behind me. I could hear Gormal shouting at his father, but his voice was muffled by the carved wooden door. I slumped over the balcony rail. I could see the trap Barran was laying. He offered me gold in one hand while threatening me with a knife in the other. Only he did not even need to speak the threat.

I rubbed my face. I had to refuse though. I could not call myself a knight or anything like a friend to Edmund if I sold him away like this.

I had to get out of the trap. I started to panic. But then I steeled myself. I had talked my way out of dangerous situations in Calormen. I could do the same here. True they knew my weaknesses, but equally, I knew theirs. I had to think of my options.

I could stall. Promise nothing and everything at once, say I needed to think. While expedient for the moment, the problem would eventually return. And although I did not know Corana well, I imagined she felt similarly sick being bargained away to a man like me. And of course, any prevarication would be a lie, which was against the code of my knighthood and all my father taught me.

The next option was to refuse, then run and find the Kings and Queens and make my confession. Tell them what I was to take the sting out of Barran's reveal. But would it matter whether the words came from me or him? I would not escape their calumny either way. And there was the other lurking possibility of Edmund himself. Any blunt confession would shine far too much light on the flower that might be blooming in the darkness. No, the secret had to remain secret. A small voice pointed out that I could not stall on this forever and expect them to know nothing. I pushed that away. I had to deal with that later.

I paced back and forth. I needed to refuse, but somehow retain the upper hand. What would Edmund do? At last, I hit on an answer, and I turned and pushed the door open lest I overthought it..

Barran and his family all turned to me at once.

'Your Sufficiency proposes an interesting and thoughtful solution—which is also impossible,' I said.

Gormal growled, but Barran put up a hand to stop him. 'Why impossible?'

'Because Peridan doesn't want to marry a woman!' Gormal exploded. 'We know this! We've always known this!'

I gave Gormal a thin smile. 'Because King Edmund does not wish to entertain the idea of marriage. You know, surely, of Rabadash's siege on Anvard. That came from a failed courtship. The Kings and Queens do not wish to risk their persons or their state in such a manner any time soon. I have no power to persuade them otherwise. To lead you to believe anything else would be false.'

'I have already said you need not guarantee success,' Barran said, his voice growing colder now.

'But whatever I did would guarantee failure,' I replied.

Gormal glanced at his father, and this time, Barran gave him a nod. Gormal advanced on me. 'Well, you'd better think of a way to convince them, because I'm certain you wouldn't want us to tell the truth.'

'Oh, but you wouldn't do that,' I said coolly. My palms were sweating.

Gormal sneered. 'And why not? Since you're ruining our chances.'

'Because you have no proof. The accusations would seem baseless, born of bitterness and jealousy,' I replied. 'You would have to go to considerable lengths to even make the accusations plausible, and going to such lengths would suggest to the Kings and Queens that you do not trust their judgment. Perhaps I would lose, but you would lose also.'

Gormal frowned, but Barran contemplated this.

'Instead, I can offer you some advice on how to secure your position,' I said.

'And what do you want in exchange?' Barran demanded, narrowing his eyes.

'It is a gift of goodwill,' I replied, 'Because that is how Narnians deal with each other. Show the Emperor you care about Narnia—send money or troops, or if lords will not go back themselves, have them appoint stewards over their lands. Take action now to tie yourselves to the homeland, and earn his respect. Lead the Council of Lords in this and you will certainly secure your place as governor. Or you can try to undercut me.' I spread my hands. 'But remember I know them. I have built my success, and I have given you the secret to yours. It requires only a change in mindset.' I bowed then, and took my leave.

In the hallway, I leaned against the wall and covered my face with my hands. When I steadied my breathing at last, I pushed myself off the wall and exited the castle. I would go into town. I did not want to witness my downfall, if it was coming. I bought dinner from a market stall and sat in the square to have dinner. I tried not to think about what Barran might be saying to Peter and Lucy and Susan and Edmund at that very moment. But when I managed to push that from my mind, all the questions about Edmund swirled faster than ever. What if Simar was right, and he was like me, and no one had ever awoken him? What if he didn't know? This seemed very plausible—I knew firsthand how remote and sheltered the Kings and Queens were at Cair Paravel. Beloved, but also protected. They did not have the freedom to explore. They could not steal away at parties with boys, or girls, because they were always at the centre. There were few people they could truly talk to and be just people, not monarchs. They likely had many questions and did not know how to formulate any of them or who to ask.

All this added up to Susan clinging to me and then Rabadash so quickly—and experimenting with Rabadash had taught them all a sharp lesson. Meanwhile, Edmund had been to the bacchanal once, felt uncomfortable, and never returned. And people venerated Peter so much they dared not think of him as a human man who might desire someone, while Lucy communed with Aslan, forever a maid. The Narnians may have had more liberal views about their own actions but they did not appear to have educated their monarchs. Perhaps, knowing nothing, they were not predisposed to hate what I was. Perhaps they were blank slates. They might be taught equally to love or hate me because of who I was. I remembered before I kissed Simar, that thrill of attraction. I had not felt shame. I imagined a different Peridan, a boy who was never whipped and exiled for kissing another boy. I wondered if he would have the courage to go up to Edmund, cup his face and kiss him and say 'I'm so in love with you.'

I walked back through the warm darkness, leaving the lights of the town behind as I climbed the hill to the palace. I did not ordinarily think of myself as naive, but my return to the Islands showed a prodigious lack of foresight. I had the heavy sense that this was all going to resolve one way or the other, through my action or inaction. Maybe there was a part of me that craved the resolution as much as I feared it. Because as much as I worried that they would reject me, strip me of my knighthood, exile me to some far corner of the world, there was a tiny part of me that hoped they would say, 'It's alright. You are who you are. You are loved.' And that was so beautiful it made me a bit afraid too.