It has been a strange few weeks as we prepare for the Calormene state visit. Truth be told we haven't had a formal state visit in awhile. The Archenlanders come fairly often and that counts in a very technical sense, but in practicality we are all far too familiar with each other for formalities. Even Galma and Terebinthia conduct more relaxed visits now.

Calormen, however, is another matter entirely. I have sat in meeting after briefing after report to try to gain more information about them, and I am cursing myself for my lackadaisical approach to them before now. Obviously I knew of Calormen, but my knowledge was vague at best. I knew that it was large, but have found out it is ten times our size and they are constantly seeking expansion. They retain such a large territory through the absolute, unquestionable power of the Tisroc, and any time his title is mentioned, one must immediately follow it with 'May he live forever.' If they are constantly paying lip service to the eternal life of their ruler, you can imagine where he stands on such matters as freedom of speech. Or freedom of any kind.

Calormene society is well regulated and ordered, and based on a strict caste system. Their god, Tash, is called the 'inexorable.' Their military might comes more through sheer numbers than strategy, and they have recently put down rebellions in the East while expanding their holdings in the South at the same time.

As I say, I was dimly aware of all these things, but didn't think them important. After our coronation the Tisroc sent us a gift of a gold vase and plate absolutely encrusted with jewels so flawless they look liquid. As I studied diplomacy, one of the first things I learned was this gift was no act of generosity but a show of power and might. I disregarded this as though it was meaningless. More fool I. For we are about to become embroiled with Calormen far beyond an officious show of splendour and some trading with the Lone Islands which has minimal impact on the overall Narnian economy.

Susan has no idea. She is so far into her ideas of love and romance that she will not take diplomacy into account. I tried to raise it with her the other day and tell her about the strength of Calormen, but she waved this away and said, 'Oh, Edmund, what do I care about all that? You know I've not a head for tactics. Do you think Prince Rabadash is as handsome as his portrait?'

But my private fear is that Calormen seeks a diplomatic marriage to expand their holdings to the north as well as the south. Not only would Narnia become entangled with Calormen, but Archenland, sandwiched in between, could not hold out as independent for long. I play through the scenarios often and they make me sick with worry. So many possibilities which involve not a single arrow fired, just sheer diplomatic coercion.

I shared this with Lucy. I hadn't intended to, but she was giggling about the may-he-live-forever nonsense.

'Can you imagine someone grovelling like that to Peter? He wouldn't know what to do!' She did a fair imitation of his bemused expression. 'Although I imagine you'd quite like that level of adoration—'

'I wouldn't,' I cut across her. 'Lu, this is serious.' And then it all came spill out, all my fears about how to negotiate the situation, the marriage, the threats to Narnian and Archen sovereignty.

To her credit, Lucy listened, and grew grave. 'What can we do?'

'Hope Rabadash is a git,' I said, shrugging my shoulders. 'That would be enormously helpful.'

'It would be if Susan saw him for what he was,' she said. Lucy can be very astute indeed.

'Eyes and ears open then,' I said, 'When they are here, gather as much information as you can, and as much about Susan's position as you can. We'll debrief at the end of each day.'

At least I found out one cheering piece of information: the Narnian Navy is as big as the Calormene one. Slightly encouraging as any war waged would needs be by sea, as we have the Great Desert between Archenland and Calormen.

I have debated writing to Lune, but am holding off. No need to cause undue alarm in others. I have debated discussing this with Peter, but he has been preoccupied with giant aggression on our Northern border. That needs his full attention. But I have this feeling that we are caught between pincers and I don't know how we are going to get out.

We were having a quiet evening, tucked away in the little parlour Susan had set up for us at the beginning of our reign. She had shown it to us with such pride, beaming about our new 'front room.' We still called it that, although the term had lost all meaning beyond that parlour the four of us shared. I have the feeling it came from Spare Oom, and that was where Susan got the idea for it, but I can't remember any specifics.

The castle staff were initially baffled by our front room. For starters, it was not actually at the front of the castle. Also, no room had any record of such use. There was a King's parlour and the Queen's Parlour, and even a First Duke's Parlour and a Lord of Lionshaim's Parlour, but they couldn't imagine why we would want to squirrel ourselves away from the court and the people.

Yet sometimes we want to do just that, relax and be Peter and Susan and Edmund and Lucy, not Kings and Queens with fancy titles and regalia. We spend many evenings in the quiet and comfort, and we did in the week leading up to Rabadash's arrival.

Peter and Lucy sat at the table playing a truly atrocious game of chess. Somehow they had managed to turn it into a bloodsport and were currently waging a ridiculous pitched battle with my chess set. I had absolved myself of the whole affair and was lounging at one end of the couch leafing through a book while Susan sat at the other end with her patient embroidery.

Lucy started to tease Peter by setting up an elaborate tableau with his captured pieces and speaking the dialogue. Peter started to protest, but after Lucy ignored this and continued with her story about a queen who was rallying her troops to save her people and her beloved king, Peter interposed with his knight, deepening his voice and declaring, 'Your efforts will be in vain, and we shall win the day!' And proceeded to have all his pawns cheer.

I snorted a laugh and shook my head, keeping my eyes on the book but an ear out for developments in the saga. Susan glanced over at me, and we shared a small smile.

And it hit me that I didn't know when we would be like this again, that perhaps soon there would be an impossible wedding to plan and always a Calormene prince in our midst, that everything could change and that I didn't want it to. I laid a pillow next to Susan and stretched out on the couch with my head on the pillow, holding the book above my head and pretending to read. After a minute she snipped her thread and looked down at me. She brushed the hair off my forehead with her fingertips and said, 'Your hair's getting in your eyes. I'll have to arrange a trim soon.'

Rabadash arrived a few days later.

We stood on the pier with the full court behind us in full regalia: crowns on our heads, capes pinned over our shoulders, brooches of knighthood, etc etc. I thought we were putting on quite the show, until Rabadash disembarked. A servant walked backwards down the gangway (I admired his balance) unrolling a carpet, and then a girl came down, strewing flower petals. I wished Lucy was next to me, because I was certain she would have shared a conspiratorial roll of the eyes. As it was, I stood next to Peter, who didn't move except for clenching and unclenching his jaw. He would not look at me, of course, because he was too focused.

At last Rabadash himself appeared, ornamented in every possible way. His turban was set with jewels, his cloak woven with gold thread, and his clothes both bejewelled and embroidered with gold thread. It was a lot. And he absolutely reeked of perfume. All that sandalwood and musk gave me a headache in about thirty seconds. The entire Narnian court seemed to have difficulty restraining their amusement—all, except Peridan. He watched Rabadash with a cool and keen eye, but showed no outward emotion.

At the welcome ball, I was not the only one watching Rabadash and Peridan. They did have an interaction—Rabadash mocked Peridan when he thought we weren't watching. I couldn't hear what he said, but I know a cruel smile when I see one. Probably he had news that Peridan was something of a rival and decided to put him down. This set my teeth on edge. For his part, Peridan took it all with a cool detachment, and I was impressed by how detached he could remain. My temper was already up just witnessing the exchange.

Unfortunately, all of this escaped Susan's notice. Everything but Rabadash escaped Susan's notice. I finally understand what the word smitten means now, seeing them together. She drapes herself in his arms like she's made of liquid, and he preens at this. They're so different from Susan and Peridan, who were beautiful and correct. Watching Susan and Rabadash makes me uncomfortable. I can't help but remember that first bacchanal, when the maenads draped themselves over me but I was chasing something else. Maybe Susan and Peridan both wanted that something else and couldn't give it to each other. I have to wonder, though, whether it's worth all of this. I gave up…well, whatever I had with those women, and I haven't really missed it. Not enough to upend the world, even if I am a bit lonely sometimes.