Author's note: Can't believe I've been away from the internet for five days! That's certainly a record. I'm actually having a two-week exam, just done with the first one. Well, I hope you'll enjoy this chapter. 32 reviews so far, that's another record. :) I love you reviewers. -hugs-

Chapter Three

Aravis had never thought that she needed someone to talk to more in all her life. She had to get this particular woe off her chest; it was sending her over the edge bit by bit. All of the courtship lessons had been leading up to what was going to happen in the next few days, and she was incredibly nervous. Guests would be arriving soon, and she would be expected to greet and entertain them. She knew that every time an unattached man was introduced to her she would be looking them up and down and wondering if they were there to court her. Each polite conversation would be watched for hidden meaning. She would not be able to tell if a man was interested in talking to her or if his attention was somewhat more romantic. It was all about to start. So she paced to and fro in her bedchamber in the middle of the night, wondering who to turn to. The lone burning candle on her bedside table flickered as she continued to pace around, but Aravis gave no hint of stopping.

Scratchy, her pug-faced cat was watching her intently from her bed; a pure interest was gleaming dangerously in his eyes. His green eyes darted from side to side, following Aravis' movement. But, she gave no hint of acknowledging his presence either.

Of course, the first name that came across her mind was her governess, Wilhelmina. But Wilhelmina would not appreciate being woken up in the middle of the night, particularly to talk about something as silly as nerves. She would most probably tell Aravis to forget about it and get her "beauty sleep".

Or worse, Wilhelmina would ignore her after the tantrum of this morning. Well, it was not really her fault … in fact; it was an offence against her. The nerve of Wilhelmina telling her to wear revealing dresses! The sight of the low neck-lined gowns had almost suffocated her, ironically. And the see-through dresses! All the frills and laces and tassels!

Aravis grudgingly crossed out her governess's name on her mental list of midnight confidants.

Next was King Lune. Aravis frowned at her own thought, thinking that King Lune was the most suitable person to consult. But then again, he caused this woe, and surely the King would appreciate a good night sleep as on the morrow, Anvard would be expecting her first guests of that summer.

She crossed out that name too.

The options were narrowed down to two.

The brothers.

Corin was just the perfect person to talk to, but she didn't want to risk her own life, venturing into his bedchamber in the middle of the night like this. She would be probably knocked out by Corin, for he might think she was some thief or a dangerous intruder. Besides, he would probably shrug her off. Like Wilhelmina, he might think that she was just being silly.

The proud and confident Aravis was fretting about what was going to come upon her on the morrow?

Corin would laugh her off, she was sure. So, the choices were narrowed down to one.

Cor.

Why didn't she think of him before?

Knowing that Cor had the frailest self-confidence of anyone she knew, she was sure that he was spending a sleepless night, too. His woe was even worse than hers. There was a hint of hope in Aravis, thinking that Cor might actually understand her worries.

But confiding to Cor was probably the strangest thing she could have ever done, if she ever had the actual courage to go and look for him. True, Aravis had her own alter egos, pride and confidence … but those were the things she wanted everyone around her to believe her to be.

Underneath it all, it was all sham.

Why she worked so hard to show the world the face that they assumed her to be was a secret she wanted to keep to herself. Aravis knew that she was not perfect, she heard her wicked stepmother chant it to her countless times. She remembered how her stepmother stopped at nothing to put her down every day, bossing her around as if she was one of the servants, controlling her life.

That unwanted betrothal was certainly the very, very last straw.

Sometimes pretending to be something she was not was tormenting her slowly on the inside, as she had to put on a masquerade the whole time. But most of the time, she actually enjoyed those moments … especially when the dejected and wounded looks came upon Cor's face.

The more miserable he gets, the happier she would be.

It felt like she was getting the anger and grudge for her past off her chest, gaining satisfaction … knowing that at least here in Anvard, she was a superior to someone. After all, Cor was the perfect person upon which to sharpen her wit, because the nineteen-year-old was still acting like the Shasta she knew, despite his title and status. He always thought she was right, was quite slow to anger and was not assertive of himself … until lately.

Truth to be told, she did feel slightly intimidated by his unusually sharp stare. What happened to the Cor she knew, she wondered. Their latest fights were getting really offhand, and it seemed to her that she couldn't stop herself from throwing any barbs she could possibly think of. And often, she would be the one who was going to leave Cor looking like a dolt.

Just yesterday they were arguing about their seating at the long table during the welcoming banquet.

Consulting Cor, the crown prince of Archenland was certainly the last thing she would ever do. Why she would want to lower down her guards and wear her feelings on her sleeves now? She was already used to resolving her problems and keeping her fears to herself, why open up now? Aravis truly believed that she could trust no one other than herself, and she trusted that nothing could ever change her thinking.

She didn't need anyone. She would deal with whatever the world threw at her on her own.

The moon was shining annoyingly bright that night, and there was not a single cloud in the sky. A heavy rain would have been far more appreciated, as the cold and the rumbles of the thunders could actually help her to fall asleep. Aravis could only sigh in disappointment as she turned her gaze away from the window.

Maybe a long walk through the winding corridors down to the kitchen would do her good. After giving Scratchy a quick stroke on his stomach (the cat was sleeping on his back with his legs flopping in every direction), Aravis slipped out of her bedchamber.

---

Left, right, up and down. If he couldn't master the latest skill shown by his mentor this morning, he would be as good as dead in his very first serious tournament. Owls hooted as rodents scampered for their burrows, and every now and then the unusual nippy wind of summer blew quite unpleasantly into Cor's face.

His sword was getting heavier with each second, but he didn't dare to stop. He was nailing this skill, at last. Cor could not give in to the tiredness he felt, not just yet. Night was becoming even brighter, and Cor could only thank the moon for shining so bright.

Sweat seeped through his tunic and breeches, and Cor kept on wiping the trickles of sweat with the back of his free hand to keep them from getting into his eyes. His hair was getting annoyingly long but the prince had no time to trim it for the sake of their incoming guests. His father and his twin had nicely reminded him that some of the lady-guests might expect to have an audience with him, perhaps with some home of getting into a more serious relationship with him.

He just couldn't understand why he was expected to court someone this summer. Why couldn't they just leave him alone to concentrate on the oncoming tournaments? He had his own pride and dignity to take care of. The last thing he would ever want to do was make a fool of himself in front of the lady of the court.

Aravis. He saw her throwing her tantrum this morning. It was highly unusual, as the tantrum was quite open and it was thrown at her governess. It was a little nice change when he thought about it. Cor didn't know what the fit was all about, but somehow he could tell that it was about her dresses … two Dryads (both were famous for their handiworks in dressmaking) were summoned to have an audience with her right after the fit.

After a while, Cor stopped swinging his sword, panting heavily. The midnight breeze felt cold against his exposed skin, and he gave a shudder, thinking that now it was time for him to return back inside. His stomach was groaning for food and drink due to the long hours of practice.

Putting his sword back into its sheath, he started to drag his feet with the remaining energy he had in him.

When he reached the long corridor heading towards the kitchen, he didn't expect to see anyone else but the guards and the torches on the wall.

Aravis was certainly the unlikeliest person to wander in the middle of the night, but yet there she was, only a few feet ahead of him in her dressing gown and fluffy night slippers. He knew it was her, because of her dark-coloured hair. Most of the lady-attendants in the castle were fair-haired due to the Northern blood in them. He was a fair-haired himself, and so were his father, twin and most of the members of the court.

She had probably heard him, because the next thing he knew she halted, and whirled around.

"What?" was the reflexive word that slipped from Cor's mouth, stopping into a halt as well.

"Who's there?" she responded, and he saw her narrowing her eyes. Perhaps realising it was only him, she added, "Oh, it's you."

"What are you doing here?" he asked, feeling slightly awkward at this unexpected encounter. The last time he saw Aravis in her dressing gown was when they were about fourteen or so.

Unabashed, she replied, "Going to get a snack before turning in. What are you doing out here in the middle of the night?"

She moved closer, and Cor reflexively took a step backward.

"You're sweating," Aravis remarked, wrinkling her nose. Cor hoped he didn't smell that bad. Then, he saw her gaze fell on the sheathed sword he was holding. He quickly hid it from her view.

"There is no need to hide it from me," she said with one of her familiar smirks, "Out for a practice, aren't you?"

"That's very sharp of you to pick that one up," replied Cor, little specks of annoyance due to her smirk were emerging rapidly. She just smiled significantly at him before she turned around and started for the kitchen. There was a hint of flowery smell in the air when she spun around, and it felt really strange that during the night, the smell was quite overwhelming.

But then, Cor had another matter to think of other than his over-attentive male senses.

He was torn between following her lead and finding some food, and returning to his bedchamber. But his stomach gave another turn, and he had no other choice to follow her. One apple and a glass of drink, and I'm out of there, he thought to himself.

He and Aravis went their separate ways in the enormous kitchen … one was heading to the fruit baskets and one was heading to the bread baskets. Cor didn't trust himself to start talking to her, realising that they had nothing nice to talk about. Well, except for the seating problem they hadn't solved, but the last thing he needed was another fight with Aravis at midnight.

When he turned around to look for a clean goblet from the long table, their eyes met. It felt strange, because for one moment he thought she looked almost concerned.

"Are you nervous?" Aravis asked from across the table, returning to her usual expressionless mode again.

He frowned at her. Aravis was asking him something as nice as that? He must have died, and gone to Aslan's country.

"Why do you ask?"

Correction, his brain told him, why do you care?

"I'm just trying to be nice to you," she answered, rolling her eyes. It was obvious that she was getting annoyed. Sighing, she added, "No, really. Are you?"

He was not sure whether it was safe to confide in Aravis. In the end, he thought it would be better for him to keep his fears to himself.

"It would be a lie if I say no, but then again, it's really none of your business," he told her, avoiding her gaze.

"None of my business, eh?" he heard her say, "I'm the lady of the Archenland court, my lord, and you are the crown prince. You must be aware that your defeat would be my defeat too."

Cor snorted softly at this, feeling that perhaps it was time for him to remind her that she was of the Southern blood, and she was a pure Calormene. But pointing this out might cause all prejudice to break loose, and the last thing he needed was a war of prejudice in this castle. Instead, Cor put on a brave face.

"It's a little too early to say that, don't you think, my lady?" he told her, getting into the civility mode she had prompted earlier. "I would appreciate to hear the words of encouragement from the lady of the court now, before it's too late."

He hoped that she had caught the sarcasm in his tone.

"You might not need it," Aravis replied coldly, "Your rivals would probably let you win anyway, as your home is the host of these tournaments. Defeating a lord in his own country is as cruel as killing him, so I bet with my whole life that they will let you win … just to be polite."

"Are you trying to patronise me?" Cor said, outraged. "Telling me that I'm no skilful swordsman? That I can't win a battle without someone throwing a fight!"

She put on an impassive look.

"Oh, I'm not belittling you, Your Majesty. It is just you who feels that way."

Now she was telling him that he was just being paranoid!

"Aravis, I'm warning you … the last thing I need is this. Stop putting me down or you're going to regret it."

He wasn't sure whether it was the effect from holding his sword or seeing her in her pastel blue dressing gown, but he was starting to see her as real woman … and that he was, after all, a man. Aravis should know better than wounding a man's pride.

---

She was doing it again.

She couldn't believe her own nerves! Coming from a man, the insult she had just given the Crown Prince would have been enough to have her challenged to a fight. Whatever she should do? Aravis thought that she would rather die than saying that she was sorry. If she looked away, he would think she was shrinking away, scared. But truth to be told, she was getting a bit scared. Trust her to be alone with a man in the middle of the night. Cor could do anything to her, and considering what she had said, not many would have blamed him.

Judging from his tone, the sharp stare and the way he was holding his sword … Aravis finally realised that she was only a woman and that he was a man. She never really noticed how tall and strong he was. Thank Aslan for the long table that was separating them.

"I'm not putting you down," Aravis said at last, feeling relieved that her voice was not shaking.

"The least you can do is apologise for your bluntness," Cor told her darkly.

"Was I?"

"So, now you're having amnesia?"

Now it was his turn to smirk at her. Aravis chose to ignore this.

"Maybe …"

"You do realise that we're now in the kitchen with no one else around … and what with the fact that we're both of the opposite genders?"

Now she wished she hadn't angered him. The worse deed a woman could do was make a man realise his true colours, and she had done just that.

Brilliant, she thought. She mentally cursed herself for being so bold at the wrong place and at the wrong time.

"And that as a man, Aravis, I am stronger you, literally."

She reflexively took a step back, now she felt really scared. Cor seemed to be enjoying the reaction his threats had on her, for she saw him grinning next.

"I can actually haul you to the North Tower and lock you up there?"

Haul you to the North Tower and lock – what?

For one crazy moment she thought he was going to –

Never mind, Aravis thought, blushing at the thought of it. At the same time, she felt relieved. Just the other day Wilhelmina had warned her about some men and their incorrigible lusts.

It was quite frightening to listen to Wilhelmina's warnings, and was even more frightening listening how a man could be overwhelmed by his lust and enslave any woman to do his bidding. But what was she thinking? This was just Cor, for heaven's sake. He was the last man she needed to worry about inspiring mind-numbing lust in.

She pulled herself together, realising that she was just being silly. But she tightened the silk strap around her waist all the same.

"I can't believe that you've just threatened me, Cor. Do you know that I can scream at the top of my lungs and wake the whole castle up? You may be a man of strength, but you have forgotten that I'm a woman who—"

"Loves to throw an unreasonable fit?" He grinned.

Aravis narrowed her eyes at him.

"— who has a much higher pitch of voice than you do, and I'm not afraid to use it."

"I'll gag you, if that's the last thing I do – oh wait, that will be first thing I'll do."

"You cannot be serious," she said in astonishment, taking a few steps backwards for an extra precaution and added, "You wouldn't dare."

The jeering smile on his face was getting somewhat sinister.

"Try me."

"I'm not apologising if that's what you want!"

"No?"

He stalked closer. Aravis had a feeling that he might as well jump over the table and get her.

"No," she replied stubbornly, keeping her gaze locked with his to indicate that she was not afraid of him, not even the slightest bit. Which was a lie, come to think it ... her heart was actually slamming wildly against her chest!

"You wouldn't like it, Aravis, I'm sweating and probably a bit smelly."

The nerve of him! He was teasing her! It never crossed her mind that Cor could be so – teasing, not even once.

"You're losing it."

"All right, that's it. I'm coming to get you—"

But Aravis had already bolted to the door, knocking down several baskets containing food as she dashed for the exit. Being flocked by her suitors sounded even better than being locked in the North Tower now.

---

Cor had never seen anything as funny as that in his life. Never. He couldn't believe that his little plan had actually worked on Aravis! Despite the dead silence, he started to snigger.

Now he knew what frightened Aravis.

If only he knew about this earlier. He could have actually flexed his muscles at her and send her scampering away. He would never have hurt her in any way, but she didn't know that. On the other hand, she couldn't bother him if she was locked in the North Tower ...

He decided to down a goblet of mead instead of water after that, celebrating his little brush of brilliance.

Author's note: I've forgotten to warn you that this fic will be rated T some time soon, just to warn you kids. –grins-

I have also decided to start a rating system on the quality of the chapters (this is to those who probably have no idea what to tell me in their reviews or too lazy to write a long review). For every chapter, please give a rating from one to ten at the top of your reviews. I'm giving this chapter a 6/10 myself because I can see that this is not my best yet.