Chapter One

Narnian year: 1022

One look at Aravis Tarkheena these days could actually make you wonder if she really was the same dishevelled girl who had journeyed to the North for her freedom seven years before. For a start, her once unruly shoulder-length hair was now longer than expected, but there was never a day that you would see her with her hair loose. She had also grown a great deal taller.

Regardless of the daily telling offs to be more ladylike, and her obligation to follow some daily lessons … she was becoming a little too carefree. Her governess was not pleased with her proneness to "outdoor activities", and kept on telling her that it was very improper of such young well-bred lady to wear breeches and sword-duel.

"Oh governess," Aravis would say in reply, "don't be such a wet blanket." For even though she had learned to treat others well and more politely, she just couldn't help herself from being so straightforward.

The governess would purse her lips until they were nothing but a thin line; half blaming the King for being too lenient, half blaming the Southern blood in Aravis. She found it really hard to understand Aravis's proneness to join the royal brothers for a hunting party, and similar outdoor activities that could make the governess cringe even at the thought of them.

Lately, her governess was getting somewhat impatient with the King, who seemed to enjoy hiding from Aravis the fact that at least two dozen young great lords had already approached the King asking for her hand in marriage. The governess had been hoping that the news would reach Aravis' ears as soon as possible, praying that Aravis would change for good.

As for Aravis herself, she felt very contented with the freedom Anvard had presented to her. Had she stayed in Calormen and got married to that stupid man, she highly doubted if she could have the privilege to do whatever she pleased. The King was spoiling her to the maximum, overjoyed that there was again a young woman in his court.

But there was another thing that should be known about Aravis. Now that she was older and knew how to actually think wisely, she thought marriage was a very disturbing matter. Yes, you can say that she was a bit scarred from her past, but she was very careful in hiding her apprehension.

But then again, someday, as her married friend Lasaraleen liked to say, "Someday you will have to settle down, Aravis darling," and after a while, Aravis herself realized that her friend was quite right.

"But the day is not here yet, so why fidget?" was her reply, laughing lightly.

Bless the girl, if only she knew.

Summer was nearing, and the weather was getting somewhat warmer. Aravis loved summer the best, for it was the season when many great tournaments would take place. And this year, King Lune had taken the honour to present Anvard as the official host for several jousting tournaments. To Aravis, she just wanted to take her place on that dais to watch and to learn new skills from those tournaments, but King Lune had something else in mind.

He thought that the time was finally here.

---

"There it is."

"No madam, that's the tree."

"I know what I'm seeing, stop contradicting me."

"S-S-SH!"

But it was too late to pull the string now; their target had heard the hiss and galloped away for its life.

"NO! Oh, now that was just wonderful, Cor … look what you've done!" cried Aravis. Cor didn't even bother to hide his surprise, being shouted at was the last thing he needed on this hunting trip. No, fighting with Aravis had been the ultimate thing. Not far away, his twin brother Corin who was positioned to hide behind a bush, could only look away and heave an exasperated groan.

"Why do you have to spoil everything?" Aravis said, angrily.

Cor gaped at her, shocked.

"Me? I've done nothing of the sort! You—" here Cor took the pleasure to glower down at her from his superior height, "You should have stayed at home. This hunting job is not fit for a lady!"

"I can shoot arrows from my bow as fast and as accurate as you can, sir!" Aravis jabbed one pointed end of her bow into Cor's chest, and despite their huge height differences, she glowered up at him. "In fact, I'm ready to take a challenge to prove that I'm a better shooter than you."

"So now you're offering a challenge, eh?"

"Well, I think I just did!"

"Cease, the two of you … you're giving me a headache."

"Oh, I beg your pardon, Corin," said Aravis in a much softer tone, much to Cor's growing irritation who thought it was not fair of her. Why she couldn't treat him as fairly as she treat Corin, he wondered. Then, he found her scowling up at him again, and she added (in her familiar hard tone), "Ugh, this is no good! I'm heading back home!"

Now Cor was positively and wholly annoyed.

Before he could even stop himself, he shouted, "Finally! The wisest thing you've done all day!" at her back. Had she been a man instead of a lady, he was sure he would hit her squarely in the face. Aravis was a huge headache sometimes!

No, his brain corrected, not sometimes, always!

"I've always done the wisest of all things. It is you who is too slow to notice that," she replied with a great amount of sarcasm, and mounted her horse without difficulty, tossing her long ponytail behind her, but not riding off just yet.

He couldn't believe her! Once again, for the umpteenth time since they met, she was calling him stupid! He wanted to throw his own barbs, any barbs he could possibly think of but his brain seemed to cease to think! It took him years to learn how to be a real gentleman of the Archenland royal court … and Aravis spoiled it all in just a matter of seconds. Twice a day, the least.

What he wanted to do one of these days was to have Aravis locked in the North Tower, for real. Let her shout, let her cry … he wouldn't care. She was getting quite annoying lately. Cor honestly thought that the summer warmth must have really got to her, in a really bad way. How he wished it had been winter, where Aravis would prefer to sit by the fireplace, reading.

But then again, winter was the season when most of the indoor lessons would be going on. Diplomacy lessons with Aravis were his nightmare.

"What's the matter?" he heard her ask next, in a much louder voice, "cat's got your tongue?"

Whenever Aravis smirked at him like that, she reminded him a lot of her squashed-faced cat. He happened to like cats after that great adventure, but it was Aravis's cat he disliked (clearly because of its owner, poor puss).

"Speaking of cat, Aravis, with that smirk of yours, I must say you do resemble your cat now," he told her bitingly, for his anger was driving him to the edge. Her smirk vanished almost instantly.

"Keep my cat out of this!" she cried next, affronted. "You – you're impossible!"

"Of course," Cor responded indifferently, "I'm only impossible when I speak of the truth."

Aravis glowered at him.

"Don't you dare speak to me from this moment on," she warned icily.

"Fine, see if I care," was his moody reply.

Indeed, the silent treatment Aravis had threatened him with was exactly what he needed at the moment. He needed to spend all those "argument" times to train harder.

For the first time in his life, Cor didn't feel guilty at all for shouting at her. Besides, he knew that they would make up eventually, usually that very same evening, before another fight would break out the very next day. The same thing kept on happening between them, and it was getting a lot worse now that Cor was under the pressure to win several tournaments for Archenland that summer.

"Kudos, brother," he heard Corin say dryly as soon after Aravis had left the place, "for that amazing display of temperament."

Cor scowled at him.

Corin certainly don't know what it is like being me … he thought grudgingly as he made a move to pick up the bow and scattered arrows flung by Aravis earlier.

"You don't have to do that," said Corin a few moments later, and Cor looked up.

"Do what?" asked Cor, wondering for a moment if his brother was saying about the argument he just had with Aravis.

"This," replied Corin, taking Aravis' quiver filled with arrows from him, "picking up everything. We can have the attendant to do that."

Cor glanced swiftly to look at the attendant who was sleeping blissfully under a tree not far away … completely unaware of the world.

"It's just a simple task, Corin, there's no need of that," he replied, for modesty had always been his best quality. Too bad, despite all the good qualities he had, it seemed like Aravis had always seen the slow side of him … the side of him that he detested deeply. Indeed, Cor realized that he was improving greatly in many of his theory and practical lessons, but Aravis seemed prefer to live in the past when he was an ignorant peasant who could not even write his own name.

"You have to do something about your temper, Cor, it's getting a bit offhand lately."

Cor sighed deeply. Shame began to form, realizing that a quick-temper was certainly not one of those great qualities his father wanted him to have. Why he couldn't be more like his father, he wondered … especially when he had to succeed his father to become the King some day. Thinking of it had always made him feel quite dejected, knowing that he had to overcome his temperament problem. Sooner rather than later.

But if he had to blame his short temper on someone, he knew there was only one person that deserved all the blame. There was not one day that Aravis would get on with her life without putting him down …

"I'm trying my best, my royal brother," answered Cor without much interest, hoping his brother would take the hint to leave him alone. But he needn't worry about that now, for the attendant had stirred out of his sleep and Corin excused himself to have a quick word with the attendant.

Relieved, he looked down and realized that he was still holding Aravis' bow, the bow that was made exclusively by the dwarves as a gift to welcome her in Anvard several years ago.

"Spoilt brat," he muttered darkly, staring at the initials engraved finely on the fine bow.

---

If it took only a matter of seconds for Cor to be angered, it also took a few seconds for Aravis to overcome her anger. In fact, by the time she reached the stable, she was no longer driven by rage. Instead, she fell into a strange, light mood. This had always been the aftermath of her fights with Cor, which she always won. Or so she thought.

Aravis dismounted her horse, and patted it lightly on the nose before leaving it there at the stable. Then, she checked her dress to make sure there were no revealing stains, especially on the lower hem of her skirt and on her riding boots. She couldn't bear to think what the great lords of the neighbouring countries would think of her if she just walked into the castle Entrance Hall with hay under her boots.

It was sometimes a wonder how Aravis could be that heartless, and not feel sorry at all for what she had done. At the moment, she was more worried about what the great lords might think of her instead of worrying about what the Prince of Archenland might feel about her.

When she finally got inside, she breathed a sigh of relief for nobody important was straying in the Entrance Hall, except for a few castle attendants and the faithful guards.

"My lady."

Aravis halted before inclining her head politely at a male Dryad.

"His Majesty would like to have a word with you in his private study now, my lady," said the Dryad, bowing deeply.

A few minutes later, Aravis was seen walking into the King's private study, and she was caught by surprise the very moment her eyes fell on her governess, standing primly right next to King. She used to be her real governess, who taught her everything she needed to know about academic lessons. But now that she was older, the old damsel had also become her chaperone … or in another word, her duenna.

But she preferred to call her as the 'governess' for a good reason. She, like Cor, had her own woes to tend.

"Aravis dear, please, have a seat," said the King quite jovially, and Aravis sat on her favourite settee at once. She avoided looking at her governess, knowing that the lady must not be pleased seeing her presenting herself in her riding boots. She swore she just saw that the old damsel giving her a sharp look a few moments before.

"Now … if you please, Wilhelmina," said King Lune, motioning her governess to take a seat as well.

"No, thank you, Your Highness," Aravis heard her decline, and this time she couldn't help looking at her. Indeed, Wilhelmina's eyes were clearly fastened on the eighteen-year-old, and she looked really displeased. Aravis chose to ignore this.

She waited for the King to occupy the settee right across her with patience that she couldn't possibly have shown if the King had been Cor. Then Aravis began to feel worried, it felt as if she was about to have one of those telling off moments again.

I should have known … Aravis thought half grudgingly, she is complaining about me again.

But something else was happening for the King was smiling gently at her next, and Aravis couldn't help staring at him.

"My lady!"

Aravis jerked with both eyes opened wide, and she swore that the King himself had jerked too.

"It is very improper for a young lady to look at a gentleman straight in the eye," she heard Wilhelmina say next, and this time she felt herself turned red … out of embarrassment and annoyance.

"Now, now, my good lady, I'm flattered at being called a 'gentleman' but I do not mind, at all …" said King Lune with a kind smile. Aravis' mortification soon faded away, and this time she inclined her proud chin triumphantly at Wilhelmina in a challenge to see if she dared to reprimand her again.

"I beg your pardon, Your Highness," said the old damsel, bowing apologetically, "but I must tell her ladyship what's right and what's not if you want her to make her debut this summer."

What? thought Aravis at once, bewildered. Of course the girl knew what "debut" means but when her governess said it, that didn't sound right …

"Debut?" asked Aravis bluntly with both brows up (Wilhelmina couldn't help from shaking her head at Aravis's bluntness), "what kind of debut?"

"Now, hush, my child … let me speak," said King Lune. She saw the King took a deep breath here. "How old are you now?"

Aravis thought that this was a very queer question indeed.

"Eighteen," she answered with a small frown, "why?"

"Lady Aravis, you will answer only when you're questioned."

Aravis opened her mouth to protest reflexively, longing to yell at that old damsel to shut up but thought better of it. So the next thing she did was shutting her mouth grudgingly, feeling annoyed to the fullest. She hated to be corrected. And Wilhelmina did that a lot.

Aravis always found herself being insulted when sometimes she was actually correct in certain matters, but people would still argue with her. This, I must say, had always been one of the reasons why she could act so critical and cruel towards everyone – well, not just everyone, towards Cor.

Because she couldn't find any one else … who was inferior to her, that was why.

Seeming to be oblivious to the governess's outburst, King Lune cleared his throat and continued, "My dear, I have to approve and admit that your time is here."

She tilted her head to one side, frowning politely at the King.

"My time is – pardon?" She would have said "what" instead of "pardon", if not weren't for the sharp look Wilhelmina was giving her.

"It is time for you to make your official debut to the society, for you to be courted by your potential suitors."

Aravis might be a bright woman, and she knew she was even smarter than Cor when it came to diplomacy lessons, but this time she found it was hard to figure out the meaning behind the King's words. Suitors? she thought, I have suitors?

"I beg your pardon?"

The King chuckled at her innocence.

"My dear, I know I have promised you all the liberty you wanted, but it is time. The time has come for you to know what a real courtship is like, and to choose a great man among your suitors."

She narrowed her eyes, for the meaning hadn't really sunk into her brain.

"By the lion's mane!" exclaimed her governess (who was a true Narnian), and Aravis winced at the sound of the governess's high-pitched voice, "My lady, it is time for you to seek for a husband!"

Husband … she repeated faintly in her brain. They were telling that her time was here to find a husband! And she thought that this day wouldn't come, especially this soon and when she least expected it!

"But I do not want to get married," she replied briskly, "not this soon!"

"My dear, every courtship doesn't have to end up with a marriage …" said the King patiently, "I am just giving you the chance while you're still young … and at eighteen, I know that you are wise and mature enough to think for yourself. And so, it is time."

Aravis was tongue-tied for the first time of the day, unable to think of anything to reply. She just sat there, gaping at the King.

"The first tournament will be held a week from now. You have just enough time to make a few dresses, learn several lessons … anything you need to know about courting. I trust your governess will take care of that."

Aravis lifted her gaze to look at her governess at once, and found the old damsel was already at the double doors … motioning her to come along with a slight incline of her head. Aravis couldn't help rolling her eyes, sighing inwardly. The last thing she needed was this.

"Do I have to?" asked Aravis dully.

The King smiled, "What do you think?"

Without an ounce of hesitation, she bluntly replied, "I don't think I'm going to enjoy this summer."

King Lune chuckled in return, and Aravis was annoyed to see the twinkles in his eyes. The King was clearly pleased and happy with this matter.

"You will enjoy this summer, my dear, you will."

If 'spending more quality time with Governess Wilhelmina' had been in her to-do list, then yes, she probably would. As it was, the summer looked as forbidding as a prison sentence.