The majority of the retinue from Terebithia was dispersed among the servants and each led to their rooms for rest and refreshment before meeting with King Lune and the royal family.

The maids and several ladies of the court, including Aravis, stood in the reception hall of the women's wing waiting to receive their special guest. They did not wait long.

The double doors to the circular room burst open.

"The Lady Amberjill," announced the footman.

Aravis drew in a breath, for in stepped the loveliest lady she had ever seen.

Her skin was a creamy white, and seemed to glow like the moon over the ocean. One would not think she lived on a sunny island. Her hair was the color of the white sands found in the oases of Calormen. Her nose delicately snubbed at the end. Her lips like two damask rose petals.

But, the thing that drew the most attention, once she stepped closer, were her eyes. Almond shaped. One would call them blue at first, but on further inspection, around her pupil sea green fanned out from a ring of cerulean.

Lady Amberjill glided right through the group, seemingly knowing, where to go.

"Good afternoon, darlings. I hope I am not late." Her voice was like the tinkling of tiny silver bells . . .

"We were waylaid en-route by the most charming fabric merchant who had the most charming fabrics and I could not continue until I had at least seen all of her wares and of course I ended up buying none of them as usual . . . Oh, are all of you here for just me? How sweet of his majesty, he is always such a dear. It was a long journey, but it was worth it, I love this climate, it agrees with my hair. You should see it at home—ugh! The salt air does not do it any favors, if you know what I mean. Is this a newly constructed wing? It's lovely! I must get the name of your decorator." . . . Ringing incessantly.

Aravis' head spun as she tried to keep up with Amberjill's vocalized stream of thought.

She's a blonde Lasaraleen!

"And you, you are clearly not from around here. Who are you?"

It took a moment for Aravis to realize that the vision was ringing at her.

"I- I am Aravis, daughter of Kidrash Tarkan of Calavar, in Calormen."

"A Tarkheena! How exotic! That means you are a noble lady, too!" Lady Amberjill linked her arm through Aravis'. "We shall be the best of friends!"

Aravis felt dizzy. What just happened?

"How long have you been here? You must tell me your story and then fill me in on all the latest gossip! Which servant does your hair? It is divine!"

If Cor marries this silly girl there will be no living here.

In the other wing of the castle, Cor was in the middle of donning his finest (and heaviest) garments. Corin was there as well, lounging on his brother's bed, doing a fine job of mussing his formal clothes, bouncing a racquet-ball against the wall.

"So, then Bavol said to me 'there's no way you can drink all that.' I said 'watch me,' and almost downed the whole thing before throwing up."

"Hm," was all of Cor's reply.

Cor was staring sullenly at his reflection until his gaze was interrupted by Garret, his manservant pulling the outer tunic down over his head.

"Lighten up, Clumsy Cor. You'll be fine." Corin encouraged his brother. "Just dance and talk and eat. It will be over before you know it—that is, unless she likes you, then she'll be back! Bum-bum-BUM!"

"Stop it! I'm not thinking about that."

Corin stopped bouncing the ball and lifted his head to peer at his twin.

"What is bothering you then? You've been distracted all afternoon."

"I don't know. I . . . Well . . ."

Cor proceeded to tell Corin the events of that morning near the mews and his plan.

"That was a brilliant idea, Cor! Too bad she didn't go for it. It would've been jolly fun! You'll just have to think of something else."

"I don't know why it's bothering me," Cor went on as if his brother had not spoken.

"What?"

"That she said no."

Corin shrugged his shoulders. "You're just taking it personally, as usual. She didn't think the plan was feasible. That's all."

Cor's frown deepend as Garret placed a thin golden circlet on his head.

"Would his highness prefer the silver one?" Garret asked, misinterpreting the prince's expression as displeasure.

"What? Oh. No, this is fine. Thank you, Garret."

Garret made a small bow and left the chamber.

Cor turned from the mirror to his younger brother who was still lounging on his bed.

"Well, how do I look?"

"Like a prince."

For the first time that evening Cor grinned. "Same to you."

"Ready?"

Cor drew in a deep breath then slowly let it out.

"Ready."