Aravis was in the northernmost fields training her falcon. She had not sensed Cor's approach yet, her back being to him. Cor thanked the Lion and tread carefully. How exactly was he to broach the subject?

One chance out of a thousand she'll actually go for it.

Suddenly, the hawk which had been wheeling about overhead, went into a dive. Cor looked to see the bird's talons making a beeline for his face. He only had time to duck his head down. The falcon made off with slightly less than a clump of his hair. The beast then fluttered down onto Aravis' outstretched arm.

"Good girl, Aderyn."

"Aravis! Did you tell that bird to attack me?" Cor burst out, incredulous.

"Don't be ridiculous," Aravis said over her shoulder. "She probably mistook you for a rabbit. It is your unkempt hair, I'm sure."

"Very funny," Cor mumbled mirthlessly.

"I thought so."

Cor decided he did not to need move any closer to her for this conversation.

"Aravis, I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

"You know what. If I list them you'll get angry all over again . . . and I don't want you angry, not with that accursed bird on your arm."

"You will have to learn how to use your own 'accursed bird', you know. I do not want my gift wasted."

"I know."

Aravis strode past him, making her way toward the Mews. Cor followed silently alongside her. His brain worked furiously over imaginary dialogue and different ways to open his idea, his plan.

"It is all muscle," Aravis said quietly, breaking in unexpectantly on his train of thought.

"What?"

". . . And I try to be more feminine in the Archenladish sense, but it is hard. Especially since I was not very good at it in Calormene sense, either."

Aravis stepped into the Mews before Cor had a chance to say anything.

It finally dawned on Cor what Aravis had been muttering about. He never ceased to be startled by her random flashes of vulnerability. Cor cautiously stepped inside the Mews.

It was dim, light only filtering in from a small slit of a window. Apparently, falcons felt safest in dark corners.

It was a small enclosure. Cor did not have to step far in to reach Aravis. He moved slowly so as not to startle the birds. He wrinkled his nose at the stench of their droppings and almost turned tail.

Almost.

He had to bring up his idea as quickly and as secretively as he could . . . before he lost any more of his already depleted nerves (the suspicious falcon attack had seen to that).

"I didn't mean anything by what I said earlier," Cor began.

He was close enough behind her to stir the wisps of hair that had come free of Aravis' braid with his whisper.

Aravis shivered involuntarily, or so she thought.

"You could have fooled me."

"You know I can never fool you."

"True." Aravis turned to face Cor. The space was so small he had to step back to accommodate her slight movement. "And that is why I took it seriously."

"Again, I am sorry."

Aravis just stared at him. Cor then realized what she was waiting for.

". . . And I don't think you're fat."

A slow smile tilted the corner of her mouth. "Oh, very well then, you're forgiven."

Cor stared down at her. He always liked that particular smile of hers. It was a sweet mixture of good humor and mischievousness.

"So . . . is there something else you wanted to discuss with me or must I have your permission to leave the mews?"

"Oh!" Cor had almost completely forgotten. How could he forget?

"I have a solid plan that will keep Lady Amberjill, and any other husband hunter there, away from me."

"How?"

"You will beat them to it."

Aravis blinked at him for a moment . . . then burst out in a peal of laughter so loud it distressed the falcons and they had to leave.