A/N: The plot thickens! Bit shorter than previous chapters, but more goings-on. Oh, and keep your eyes peeled for a cheeky reference to something in 'The Horse and His Boy'. There's also a couple of nods to 'Til We Have Faces' (C.S. Lewis's adaptation of the Greek legend of Cupid and Psyche).
Disclaimer: I don't own this. I'm not brilliant like C.S. Lewis was. Now that that has been established...ON WITH THE STORY!
Minutes became hours. Hours became days. Days became weeks. Weeks became months. But still, Corann did not return. And with each passing minute, Anya became more and more worried, until, at last, three months after she last saw her beloved, Anya cried "I cannot take it anymore!" and decided to go in search of him. She appointed Corann's sister, Istra as Regent in her absence, and set off, heading North.
A week later, she found herself staring at the castle of King Lune of Archenland. She was about to tie her horse to the hook in the castle wall, when the castle gates opened, and there stood the King himself, smiling and laughing heartily. "My dear Anya!" he exclaimed, a merry smile on his face. "Hello your Majesty," she replied with a bow. The King chuckled and waved his hand. "Just Lune, please, my dear. You yourself are also royalty, after all." Anya nodded obligingly. "Now," Lune said. "Tie your horse up, and we shall discuss your business here in Archenland." Anya moved to do so. "Oh," she said with surprise. "The ring seems to be missing." The king came over and studied the hook in the wall. "So it is, my dear," Lune agreed. "Well, bring your horse inside, and I'll sort something out. And I must remember to do something about that hook too," he added as an afterthought.
Once inside the castle, Anya told the good King Lune her tale. "Corann?" Lune asked, looking thoughtful. "I'm sorry Anya, but we've not seen him since your last visit." The Princess nodded sadly. "Do try Cair Paravel," Lune said kindly, giving her shoulder a gentle, reassuring squeeze. "He may have gone there first, and I hear they have had some problems with floods lately. There may not have been a safe pass."
And so it was that, a day or two later, Anya found herself walking through the orchard at Cair Paravel. Suddenly, from behind a tree, leapt King Edmund, a book in one hand and a mostly-eaten apple in the other. "Anya!" he exclaimed in surprise. "What brings you to these parts? Oh, apple?" he asked, throwing away his apple core, and reaching for another from the branch above. "Err, no, thanks," Anya replied, somewhat subdued. "Pity," Edmund said, inspecting the apple. "It looks a treat. Oh well." He shrugged, and began to walk into Cair Paravel through a side gate. Anya, meanwhile, was lost in her thoughts, and didn't notice. "Anya," the young King of Narnia said, waving his hand in front of her face. "Are you coming?" Anya was roused from her thoughts, smiled sheepishly, and followed him inside.
A few minutes later, Edmund walked into a parlour, Anya in tow. The High King was pouring over maps at one end of a long table, and at the other end of the room was Queen Susan and Queen Lucy, who seemed in the middle of a discussion. "Hie Ho, Family," declared Edmund good-naturedly as he entered. "We have a guest. Apple?" he asked, tossing the fruit to Peter, who caught it and began polishing it on his shirt. "Anya!" cried Susan and Lucy, rushing over to give the Princess a hug. "Good to see you again, Anya," Peter said, taking a bite of his apple. "What brings you here?" he asked, mouth full. "Manners, brother," Susan scolded with a smile.
Anya told them her tale, and the four sovereigns looked thoughtful. But none of them had seen him. "Have you seen King Lune?" Peter asked. "We've had a bit of flooding recently. He may have got caught trying to cross the Winding Arrow." His siblings all nodded. Anya just nodded slowly, trying to hold back her tears, and made to leave. Lucy gave her another, comforting hug. "I'm sure he's alright," she said, with a reassuring smile. As Anya began to ride south again, she couldn't help thinking how underrated Lucy's beauty was when in comparison with her sister's.
Before she began the long ride home, Anya decided to visit the Stone Table, in the hope that that sacred place could offer her some comfort. But as she dismounted from her horse, she found the place no more comforting than anywhere else she had been. "Aslan!" she cried out, before sinking to the ground in tears. Presently, she heard a warm, gentle, familiar voice say "you called me, daughter?" There, before her, stood the King of Kings, Aslan himself! But all she could do was nod. The great Lion walked towards her, and breathed on her and let her sink her face into his mane and cry. "Come, Anya," Aslan said finally. "You must be strong." "Strong?" Anya asked, confused. "Yes," came the reply. "Things are going to get a little harder, but they will be much better thereafter. Come, ride on my back."
Anya knew better than to disobey him, so she hitched up her skirts and climbed on. "Hold tight," Aslan warned, before turning briskly and galloping away at such a pace that even the fastest steam engine in the world could not have kept up with them. And to Anya it felt as though they were flying, but then, abruptly, they really were flying! "Don't look down," Aslan cautioned, though his voice was playful and his eyes laughed. Finally, he set down on the edges of an annexed Calormene province much further South than Anya had ever thought existed.
Anya slid off the Lion's back and shook herself a little. "Where are we?" she asked. "All in good time," Aslan replied. "Reach into your pockets, child, and pull out what you find in them." And a search of her pockets revealed three small, peculiarly shaped boxes. Anya held one up to her ear and shook it, but she could hear nothing. "What are they, Aslan?" she asked curiously. "Inside are three gifts," Aslan replied. "But use them wisely, Anya. And now, I bid you farewell," but before he had finished speaking, the great Lion had already disappeared from sight.
Anya looked about herself, and saw a village nearby, so she began to make her way towards it. Before she had got very far, however, she heard the sound of horses, walking behind her. She turned around and, for one horrible moment, she thought she was staring at Kuddish! But, as she kept staring at the rider, she saw that it was not a man who rode this horse, but a woman. The woman was, of course, Kuddish's daughter, Tarkheena Redival. She had married the ruler of the province in which Anya now stood, and assumed the throne after the death of her husband ten years ago.
Anya shrank back from the road, lest the Tarkheena should see her, and that was when she noticed that Redival was not alone. A few paces behind her rode a young man. Oh – could it be? "Corann," Anya called out, a little uncertainly. The young man turned to look at her. "Oh! It is you!" Anya exclaimed with joy. "Where have you been? Let's go home!" "I'm sorry," Corann replied, his voice sounding very strange. "You must have mistaken me for someone else." "What are you talking about?" Anya asked, feeling as though she had been slapped. "I don't know you. I'm sorry," Corran replied, sounding as though he was truly sorry, then urged his horse on.