There has been no proposal.

No one knows why. Not us, not Susan. We thought for ages Peridan was waiting until he came of age, but now he's of age. I did feel a bit sad for him: his birthday came and went without much of a celebration. I came of age a few months before and the festivities were so grand they gave me a headache. Susan had a cake for Peridan and a tea party and that was it. I don't think he has anyone to celebrate with, really.

But that was all a month ago, and still no proposal. Every time Peridan is at court, everyone tenses anytime he gets near Peter, thinking he might ask for a private audience and make his suit official. He doesn't. Susan is on tenterhooks, but I find myself less expectant. I think I will be more surprised if he does speak, and I can't say why.

Sometimes I feel sorry for Susan. When she thinks no one is looking, she is very still and sad. Until she starts snapping at us. She imagines a hundred faults in us which are the source of Peridan's hesitation and she's doing her best nagging to correct them. I mostly try to stay out of the mix. There wouldn't be any sport in teasing her, and I can sense a proper row brewing if she keeps on. I don't much like myself in rows. Susan, however, seems to be spoiling for one and quarrelling with Lucy is rather difficult if she isn't in the mood, so that leaves Peter as the final candidate.

The tension reached a boiling point this morning over breakfast. Peter sat down to his meal after a morning of training, so of course he started shovelling as much food as he could into his mouth as noisily as possible. I vacillated between disgust and fascination at his private table manners, but Susan snapped at him as he started to talk through the day with his cheek bulging with sausage.

'Peter! Honestly! You're supposed to be High King and look at you! You're a disgrace!' Susan snapped.

Peter levelled a gaze at her, chewing the remainder of his mouthful, and swallowed.

Susan saw her mistake at once. Her face went slack and she looked down at her plate.

'I'm putting a stop to this,' Peter said. 'It's enough. I'm sorry Peridan hasn't spoken to me. He would have had my blessing. But this is not my fault, nor Edmund's, nor Lucy's. Stop needling us, Susan. We're on your side.'

Susan's lower lip trembled. 'Yes, of course, Peter. I'm sorry,' she whispered. Then she rose from the table and hurried from the room.

I left her to herself for awhile. I know sometimes I need some time to lick my wounds before I'm ready to talk to anyone. So I went to my morning meeting, which ironically, involved Lord Peridan as we were discussing roads into and out of Lionshaim—where they should be, who was paying for them, etc. On the surface it probably seems like the dullest subject imaginable, but I rather revel in these details of logistics and infrastructure, and then wrapping up the problem with a neat little bow. Peridan helped move things along immensely. He is quite keen to do things for the crown first off, so he doesn't raise objections about cost and expenditure. Additionally, he brought a fair amount of capital into the project—Lionshaim is booming. Above all, he has a keen eye for seeing through a problem and finding a resolution. We wrapped up a full half hour earlier than scheduled, which was a good hour and a half earlier than I had banked on.

As we were putting papers in dossiers and signing and sealing documents, I watched him. He did not make much small talk with the ministers. He was very precise about placing his signet ring in the sealing wax and his signature has a beautiful flourish to it. Mine is just a scrawl.

I tried to divine why he hadn't proposed. Surely his strategic mind saw the myriad advantages. He doesn't seem the cruel sort, either, and even if he is he hasn't played that card very well—at least, he seems to derive no satisfaction from the current state of affairs. I'm certain he hasn't bedded Susan. She wouldn't be so righteous about sex if she had experienced it.

I must have become too fixated in my study, for he glanced up and caught me watching him. He blushed (I have never seen a grown man blush quite like that) and looked away. A second later he glanced back and offered me the smallest of smiles. I found myself returning it quite against my will. I ought to be mad at him, given all the frustration he's caused me. This struck me as the behaviour of someone who is shy and lonely. I wanted to collar him and ask why he was being such an idiot, because he could be happy, have a doting wife and a whole family. I wouldn't mind having someone else to talk to.

The meeting dispersed, and I found myself walking out beside Peridan. A strange impulse to ask him to lunch rose up in me from almost nowhere. Or maybe it had to do with the loneliness I imagined I saw in him. At any rate, before I opened my mouth I remembered Susan and decided against the plan. We went our separate ways.

Given that I had a bit of free time I went to see how Susan was faring. She had probably cried off the worst of things. I'm terrible with people in a storm of tears. I never know what to do besides patting them awkwardly on the shoulder and getting them a cup of tea. Once they've calmed down a bit I'm more in my element.

Susan was sitting in her window seat with her arms wrapped around her knees, looking out the southern windows. I dropped into the other end of the seat.

She turned her head to look at me. Dried tears stained her cheeks—as expected. We would go to lunch in a bit and she would polish herself up to regal beauty, but for now she was just a sad girl.

I sighed through my nose and gave her half a rueful smile.

She wiped her cheeks with her fingers. 'I'm sorry, Ed. I've been horrible to all of you.'

I shrugged. 'You know that doesn't bother me. I'm usually the prickly one. You're entitled to have a turn sometimes.'

She leaned forward and squeezed my hand. Then she let it drop and returned to staring out the windows. 'I just wish I understood.' I didn't say anything; I sensed she was in the mood for a monologue. 'Everything seems to be going so perfectly, but nothing changes. He's so correct, but…' she paused and bit her lip, 'I don't want him to be correct. I want him to be real. I want him to want me.' Another silence. 'Everything is backwards. The men who I can't abide don't care about manners or what I want, and the one I want won't stop standing on ceremony.' She sucked in a breath. 'I don't know if he wants me. But I want him.'

Something about this felt like a punch to the gut. I've been trying to piece it together, and I think it comes down to this: if Susan, reportedly the most beautiful woman in the world and certainly one of the warmest hearted, can feel so broken and rejected what hope do the rest of us have? What chance do I have, when I'm prickly and finicky and don't even know what I want?

This is getting hard to watch. I thought Susan had a realisation, but if she did that hasn't resulted in her backing off. Rather, she still hangs off Peridan every chance she gets. The more I watch, the more I can see he's not interested, not in the way she is. I'm sure he likes her well enough: people like her generally and also he does seem more than cordial. But she wants him. He does not want her.

I wish Peridan and I were proper friends. I could give him a real talking to then, say 'Mate, what are you playing at? People are going to get hurt here.' He needs to hear that. But also I want to ask why. There is no reason for him to step back from this and yet he does. Maybe he understands what it's like to feel cold inside, that he'll need be able to properly love someone. Maybe he understands those feelings come from somewhere. I would like to know.

No time for more musing at the present. Nels has reminded me I have to go down to the orchard dedication. In a way I'm glad to be distracted.

I thought I wouldn't take up this journal so soon; after all, the record keepers will have written down all the notable events of the morning: the dedication by the moles and the blessing of Pomona (though I doubt they will note that she threw Peter a look of pure seduction, no other way to put it). They'll even likely note the arrival of the messengers. It's handy to have record keepers; they are far more fastidious than I.

However, they are very factual and often missing quite a lot of the personal context. Although Peridan has been a major point of discussion amongst us four of late, I doubt he will be much more than a footnote in their books. But for us, the whole saga has taken quite the turn.

After the dedication we got interrupted by a horn as we started to file inside. The horn signalled messengers who announced the emissaries of Calormen, an awful lot of ceremony if you ask me. Peter granted them an audience, and we all spent much of the day in speculation as to what message the emissaries would deliver. I could not think of a trade proposal or treaty which warranted the sending of ambassadors when the Tisroc has not done so before now. Nothing seemed to add up until Peter drew me into his bureau before dinner.

Once we were both in, he shut the door quite securely. Then he looked at me, sighed, opened his mouth and shut it again. Then he started to pace.

'Right,' I said, 'What are you feeling so guilty about?'

He stopped and pressed his lips together, heaving a sigh through his nose. 'I think I know what the Calormene visit is about,' he said.

'You do? What?'

He went over to his desk and picked up a letter. I could already tell from the script and the seals it was Calormene. 'I got this a few weeks ago.'

I snapped it from his hand and scanned it. As I did, my eyes widened. The letter proposed a courtship between Susan and their Crown Prince, Rabadash. 'Why didn't you tell Susan?'

Peter twisted his mouth. 'I don't know. The whole letter gave me a funny feeling, and she was so caught up with Peridan. I didn't even answer them.'

'You can't leave diplomatic letters unanswered!' I cried. 'They're not invitations to a tea party! Do you know how much stronger Calormen is than us?' He started to draw himself up but I cut across him. 'Don't you start about the might of Narnia. Your courage is all well and good on the battlefield, but my job is preventing us from even getting there. Diplomatic slights do not help that. Aslan's mane, Peter! They've been happily ignoring us apart from trading with the Lone Islands, but we can't go ignoring them—especially if she's going to reject them.' But saying those words aloud gave me a flash of fear because I lacked certainty.

'I know, alright? I know,' Peter said, taking the letter back and leaning on his desk to examine it. He rubbed his mouth.

'I suppose the arrival of the emissaries means they're not feeling too slighted,' I conceded. 'But on the other hand, we know what they're after.'

'And as you say, the situation is a lot more delicate now that it's Calormen.'

'Yes. But…you're still going to give Susan the freedom to choose, aren't you?'

He frowned. 'Of course I am. Why would you even say that?'

'Well, you're here talking to me instead of Susan, aren't you? If you're really invested in the whole choosing for ourselves thing, then what I think doesn't really matter.'

'Thanks, Ed,' Peter said, clapping me on the shoulder. 'That's exactly what I needed to hear.' I had to roll my eyes at him. Dragging me through all that.

And later I did see him talking to Susan and she was looking very grave, so I thought that was the matter closed. Susan had never really entertained suitors before, and she was still hung up on Peridan.

Only this morning when the emissaries opened the suit and said that their prince wanted to visit to 'examine her beauty with his own eyes to test her incomparability', Susan did not shut them down. She said 'Let him come.' I wonder if she hoped Peridan would muscle his way to the front and propose to her there and then. He did not. The Calormenes and their Prince are coming.