Chapter 3
Derek was a reedy boy with limp eyes, and he was clearly intimidated by Peter. This is not to say he respected Susan's older brother; rather, he acknowledged Peter only by surly sidelong glances while trying to put his arm around Susan's shoulders.
The other boys at the party were not much different from Derek, and Peter found himself comparing these stringy boys with no muscles and less noble bearing to the fierce Calormene princes and kind-eyed dukes of Archenland. Once there had been tournaments for Susan's hand; now there was only a boyish jockeying for position, an attempt to impress her with rugby pursuits, punch, and an ungainly dance. Once Susan had not been fool enough to smile on any and every male figure who bestowed his attentions on her. Still, Peter had to wonder if it was really a change in Susan or if he had never learned to adapt to England.
He was standing by the drinks watching the jerky dancing to the brassy music when the crowd seemed to part. At the other end of the room he swore he saw Caspian throwing his head back with laughter, and behind Caspian, a company of dryads dancing freely. He wasted no time wondering if magically a door had reopened to Narnia. He didn't remind himself that Aslan had said he could never go back. Edmund might have reminded him that as Narnian time goes, Caspian was not only grown up but dead; Eustace had seen him die an old man, but Edmund wasn't there. Peter rushed across the room, brushing people aside without noticing them. He was sure it had been Caspian. He could also hear the DLF's voice and Reepicheep's piping swagger.
When he reached the other side of the room, there was a door. His heart was pounding in his throat, far harder than it had even at the Battle of Beruna, his first battle, where he had fought the White Witch. He reached for the knob and held his breath and closed his eyes. He stepped outside.