I know, I know, I had to leave you in suspense for a full two chapters, but come on, who didn't want an Aravis chapter? Faucon bleu, I will indeed be writing more Aravis chapters. She plays an active and important role in this story (and I think she's awesome ;). Rey, I agree that it's realistic Aravis might face some difficulties marrying Cor because she's a Calormen, further exacerbated by the fact she has no lands or noble status outside of Calormen. Alsdo thank you Drolittle for your lovely review. I hope you continue to find the story entertaining :)

Anyway, without further ado, we return to Castle Bar.

The Man under the Hood

The horse gave a surprised whinny, hooves rising into the air and Corin backed up as the rider was thrown to the ground. Armour clanked against hard earth. The rider cursed, too loud in the sudden hush that fell over the crowd.

Ren hovered at the front of the masses, eyes wide as though she couldn't decide whether to come over or not, but then the other horses skidded to a halt and circled back round. Four knights, one lord, five swords.

Corin winced. His father had always told him his temper would get him into serious trouble one day.

Sorry father, he thought.

The fallen knight scrambled to his feet and drew his sword. Six swords. Corin rolled up his sleeves. If it was going to get messy, it was going to get messy. But at least he wasn't alone. Two against six was better than one. He glanced towards Ren again, but she had disappeared.

Great, he thought. Six against one.

He'd fought worse odds. The fallen knight advanced.

"Wait," shouted Lord Bar. His dark hair ruffled. He was the only man in the party not wearing an obvious suit of armour, though the size of his chest relative to his face suggested he had chainmail on under his gold-embroidered jacket. "Name yourself stranger."

"Er…"

"Are you dumb man?" he said. "What is your name?"

"I will tell you my name," said Corin. "If your knight apologises for his poor riding skills."

The knight growled, and brandished his sword, but Lord Bar held up a hand.

"You speak like a nobleman," said Lord Bar. "Who are you?"

Corin winced, but his hood obscured his face so they couldn't see his expression. He made a mental note to stop speaking like he'd grown up with a golden spoon in his mouth for the rest of his journey – provided he got out of here. He highly doubted he'd die. If the situation got bad, he'd throw down his hood and declare himself the prince of Archenland. Then they'd have to stop.

There were too many witnesses to kill the prince and get away with it. They'd have to slaughter half the castle, and there were more people arriving by the second, slotting into the gaps in the crowd and peering over heads or between elbows.

Though if Corin revealed who he was, word might get back to Cor and Corin didn't want his brother to know where he was heading.

"The apology first," said Corin.

"You are in no position to be making demands," said Lord Bar. He drew his sword.

"And yet here I am," said Corin.

A small voice in the back of his head told him to back down and just run, but the man the knight had clipped was slumped against another man, clutching his head, the skin of his forehead was red. All he'd done was be in the wrong place at the wrong time. If Corin stood by and did nothing, what kind of an Archenland was he leaving in his father's memory?

Lord Bar trotted his horse up to Corin and circled until he was between Corin and the castle gate. Lord Bar leant down, the point of his sword hovering a metre from Corin's neck. Far enough away that Corin could duck to avoid a sudden swing.

The swing came. A flick of the Lord's wrist. Corin twisted sideways. The blade flicked above his head, narrowly missing his hood – Lord Bar hadn't swung to injure. He'd swung to knock down Corin's hood.

That was not good. Run, said that small voice in his head. Run now. He scanned the pale faces around him. Still no sign of Ren.

"Tell me your identity," said Lord Bar. "Or I will take it as an act of aggression and let my knight have at you."

Corin rolled his shoulders and turned towards the knight, stepping away from Lord Bar and his sword. "Last chance to apologise," said Corin.

Lord Bar nodded to the knight. The man shifted his weight and lunged. Corin jumped to the side, avoiding the sword and caught the man's wrist. He brought his knee up, into the knight's gut. The knight grunted. Corin kicked him to the floor. But the knight rolled and came up to his feet again, sword at the ready.

He slashed at Corin's head. Corin dodged, then spun in. If the enemy had a longer-range weapon, you didn't let them fight you from afar. His knuckles connected with the knight's jaw with a crack and the knight stumbled back, dazed.

Corin kneed him in the gut again, this time ripping the sword from his hand. The knight straightened up, but Corin levelled the blade under his chin.

"Not so big now," said Corin. The knight's throat bobbed.

Three more knights slid from their horses, with a schlink, clink of steel as their armour adjusted to their movements. Every muscle in Corin's body screamed at him to run, but he took a step closer to the first knight.

"Apologise," he said.

The knight glanced between him and the other knights. They were closing in. Ten metres. Nine. The crowd barely moved, breaths held.

"Calculating your chances?" said Corin. He lunged forwards, gripped the man by the front of his shirt and held the edge of the blade right up against his throat. "They won't save you fast enough. Now apologise."

"They'll draw and quarter you for this," said the knight.

Corin nicked him. Just a small cut. Nothing that wouldn't heal in a day. "Apologise."

"Alright, I'm sorry," breathed the knight. "I'm sorry."

"Good," said Corin. The other men advanced. "Not another step. Or the knight gets it."

"Do it," said Lord Bar. Every eye turned to him. Corin frowned. "Do it. Show me you've got the mettle stranger. Kill him and I'll let you walk out of here a free man."

To illustrate his point, he reared his horse away from the path to the castle gate. Twenty metres to freedom.

"Milord–" said the knight.

"Silence," said Lord Bar. "Well, stranger?"

Corin glanced between the man and the gate. Lord Bar swung himself from his horse, his spurs clinking as he hit the hard earth. The other four knights edged forwards again.

"That's what I thought, stranger." He levelled his blade at the side of Corin's neck. "Now step away, you're under arrest."

"I really don't have time for this," said Corin.

"Apprehend him," said Lord Bar. He motioned his knights forwards. "And pull his hood down. I want to know what kind of a man walks into my castle and threatens my knights."

Corin wanted to reach for his hood, hold it down over his head, but somehow he didn't think that would help. There were knights in every free space. He could duck past, but he'd have to watch for five swords. They were too close. One knight lunged towards him.

An arrow struck the ground between Corin and the knight. The man jumped back. Everyone looked up. A cloaked figure stood on the steps leading up to the castle's outer wall, bow drawn, a new arrow notched.

"Let him go," shouted Ren and tilted the bow down until the point lined up with Lord Bar's chest.

Thank Aslan.

"Who the devil are you?" said Lord Bar, but it was a stalling tactic. His gaze flickered to the towers either side of Ren. Two guards edged along the perimeter wall, one from each tower, heading towards the staircase. Towards Ren.

"Two guards approaching," shouted Corin. "One either side."

Ren spun, loosed an arrow, notched, spun, loosed another. The two guards went down on their knees, arrows sticking out of their thighs. Corin decided he was glad she was his guide and not his enemy. She turned her bow back to Lord Bar.

"The next shot goes through your heart," she said. "Now let him go."

Lord Bar snarled, but dropped the point of his sword. The other knights backed off. Corin grinned, and wandered out of the circle as though he had all the time in the world. The peasants were wide-eyed and gape-mouthed. Then someone grabbed his shoulder and before Corin had time to react or plan, an arm wrapped around his neck. Gold embroidery. Lord Bar.

Corin struggled, but Lord Bar was strong. The point of Ren's arrow wobbled between aims as they struggled, but Corin couldn't break the headlock. Lord Bar elbowed him in the back, then spun Corin's chest to face Ren.

Her muscles loosened, the bow limp in her hands. Corin supposed he should be grateful. Grateful she was still here, grateful she was still on the staircase and not hightailing it into the countryside.

"I'll shoot another of your knights," she said.

Lord Bar laughed without humour, and gripped the back of Corin's hood. Corin redoubled his efforts to free himself. He couldn't let Cor find out where he was. Corin elbowed Lord Bar in the ribs. The other knights moved forwards in a semi-circle.

"Now stranger, let's get a proper look at you," said Lord Bar and tugged the hood off the prince's head.

Everyone gasped. The knights stumbled back and Lord Bar's arm loosened. Corin didn't waste a second of advantage. He ducked out of Lord Bar's hold and ran towards the stairs. The crowd seemed to recover themselves, but nobody knew what to do.

"We need to get out of here," said Corin as he pounded up the stairs. He gripped Ren's arm and dragged her towards the wall.

A moat stretched out below, around the edges of the castle, the surface unfrozen, but the water was probably ice cold. He glanced back at the courtyard. A sea of open mouths and wide eyes peered up at him. One peasant had pulled a coin out his purse and held it up to the sky as though he were trying to check the resemblance.

Corin wasn't sure whether he should be relieved or frustrated that the royal mint portrait artist was so skilled.

"Your majesty," said Lord Bar, stepping towards the staircase. "I must apologise most profusely for your treatment. If you would allow me to escort you back to Anvard, I believe the castle may be looking for you."

Corin's lip wrinkled in disgust. Oh, he was suitably contrite now he knew Corin was a prince.

"What's the plan?" said Ren. She glanced at the portcullis, twenty metres down the path, but there were hoards of peasants in the market and there was no way they were going to get past all six knights without a fight.

"Drop the portcullis," ordered Lord Bar. "Your majesty, please be reasonable."

The wheel of the portcullis began to turn, the links clinking against each other as the metal grid slowly slid down. Even if they could have got through the crowds, the portcullis would be down by the time they reached it. Two more knights appeared along the wall.

"Corin?" said Ren. She levelled her bow at one of the wall knights.

"Do you trust me?" said Corin.

"Not even remotely."

He climbed onto the top of the parapet. "Jump."

Corin being one hundred percent reckless. Hands up, who's not surprised? ;)