A/N: Wow! It's been months since I last updated this piece, so sorry to have kept you waiting! I've been super busy at work and super busy at home painting the walls. That's my excuse. But, I'm back now! My apologies if the last few pages seem less . . . cohesive than the first two or three. I started at 10pm-ish and now it's 1:48am. Brain. Shutting. Down.

. . . .

Hiding

. . . .

Aravis was lounging in the library, curled up on a window seat with the curtains drawn. She had been spending a lot of time there since Lady Amberjill arrived.

It used to be Cor's favorite place. Even during his first month at the palace when he could hardly read. He enjoyed studying the beautiful illustrations.

Cor still had the habit of immediately turning to the picture plates every time he opened an illustrated text.

Now the prince hardly frequented the beloved room.

He was too busy accompanying Lady Amberjill on strolls through the gardens, on pleasure cruises, horseback riding, flower picking and anything else she desired to do. She never expressed a wish to visit the library.

Aravis was not surprised. The lady was too flighty.

The Tarkheena shook her head to clear the reverie and returned her focus to the page she had been staring at for half an hour. With a sigh she closed the tome.

She had been secreting away her jealousy in the library every afternoon for a week and she had been on the same page for the last three days.

"I beg your pardon, Lady Aravis."

The lady in question started, the book spilling from her lap.

The servant was immediately apologetic for surprising her then announced: "The Lady Amberjill's governess, who normally chaperones her has been overcome by a headache and cannot accompany her and his highness on their stroll through the gardens . . ."

"And in what way does that concern me?" Aravis almost winced herself at the bite in her voice. The servant had no such restraint.

"She asks—that is—if it is not an inconvenience— if you would not mind . . . taking her place. She would be 'ever so obliged to you.'"

Aravis raised an eyebrow. "Those were her exact words, I imagine."

"More or less . . . yes."

"I . . . I have a headache as well, unfortunately. I've been reading too long."

"My sympathies, my lady. I will relay the message to her ladyship. Shall I send for the court physician?"

"No! No. I will be well soon. All I need is a bit of rest."

"My lady." The servant bowed his head and left the room.

Aslan, please forgive me for lying . . . I had to! You don't understand what I'm going through!

Aravis curled back up on the window seat and picked up same book again.

. . . . .

Lady Amberjill glowed in the bright garden. The rows of forsythia flowering behind her framed her face, reminding Cor of the sun.

"So, Prince Cor. I heard you enjoy hawking."

I don't.

"I do. It's such . . . jolly good fun."

"I simply adore watching people hawk. I must see you hawk some time."

" . . . I'd be delighted . . ."

Suddenly, a stinging sensation came on the back of the head. Like someone was hitting him with . . . something. Little annoyances always seemed to happen each time he and Amberjill were together. Like, suddenly tripping on something he sure was not there a second ago, their horses throwing their shoes, their boat springing a leak . . .

"And I adore these gardens and the air is so fresh. I abhor the smell of sea air." Amberjill's comment brought him back to the present.

I've always rather liked the sea air . . .

Even though most of Cor's memories associated with the sea were negative, he found the smell of it comforting and refreshing.

The stinging sensation came again. Cor looked around.

"Is something wrong?"

"Huh? Oh! No . . . no."

"I heard there's a tournament coming up in my honor. It is so sweet of your father. I simply adore tournaments! Will you be participating?"

"As the crown prince, my participation is not encouraged."

And, really, I think it's all rather stupid—risking life and limb for sport. Aslan gave us our lives, it should not be used so cheaply. I think a man should only jeopardize his life for something that matters . . . or someone . . .

Cor's thoughts turned to the adventure of his boyhood: Hwin and Bree racing for their lives, a lion closing in . . .

Cor suddenly realized that he had not seen Aravis for a while. Did not the servant say she had a headache?

I should check up on her . . .

A sigh startled him out of his thoughts. Cor looked at Lady Amberjill. His heart sank when he saw disappointment on her face.

"It is a shame that you will not be participating, Prince Cor. I was so hoping you would ride in my honor. I was planning to give you my scarf." Cue dazzling smile.

All convictions and thoughts: out the window.

"I will speak to my father about it."

Amberjill clapped her hands. "Yay!"

Oh, Aslan, what am I getting myself into?

"You are not seriously considering entering the tournament, are you, Clumsy Cor?"

Cor whipped around to see his twin standing behind him and Lady Amberjill, a cocky smirk on his face and in his stance.

Cor's face burned at the use of the despised nickname in front of Lady Amberjill.

LadyAmberjill did not laugh, but wore a strained smile. She curtsied. "Your highness."

"I was wondering when you'd show up," Cor said with a scowl. "You been following us around all week."

"I was not!"

"You were!" The retort did not come from Cor, but Lady Amberjill.

Corin looked startled for a second by the sudden outburst but quickly came back with a brilliant contradiction: "Was not!"

"Were too!"

"Was not!"

"Were too!"

"Was not! I just happened to coincidentally be everywhere you were, too. The palace is not that big."

Lady Amberjill stamped her delicate foot. "You haven't changed at all, Corin! You're still that little boy who enjoyed nothing more than to torment me during my entire stay! I bet it was you throwing those acorns at us all this time!"

" . . . Was not. It was probably squirrels. Maybe there's a nest nearby." Corin leaned against a row of boxwoods and, with his hands behind his back, released the remaining acorns inside the foliage.

Cor took a confrontational step toward his brother. Corin, his own confrontational spirit stirring up, mirrored him, with even more eagerness.

"What are you going to do, Clumsy Cor? Knock me down?"

"Maybe I will."

"Your highnesses!" Lady Amberjill's silver voice cut through the tension. "Why not settle this argument on the jousting field?"

There was a pause before Corin said, "I'm game, if you are, brother."

"Oh, I'm game, all right."

. . . .