Chapter Eight: Lucy's Anger

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Lucy huffed in annoyance.

"I will not let you fight, Peter!" she yelled at the door. It had been three weeks from the day the envoy arrived, and the next day was the duel. Her brothers and Corin had been trying to make her let one of them fight, to no avail. She had finally locked herself in her room, she was so angry with them.

"It's not Peter, Lucy." Susan's soft voice was muffled through the thick oaken doors. Lucy hesitated for a moment, and then slumped in defeat.

"Alright, I'll let you in, Susan." She huffed, quickly unlocking the door and opening it a crack. Susan stood there with a tray of food. Lucy's mouth watered—she'd forbidden her maids from entering, so she was quite hungry. Susan quickly slipped in and handed her the tray. Sitting down, Lucy began to devour the food. Susan hesitantly asked,

"Why do you not want them to fight, Lucy? It is not a woman's job to fight." That was the boiling point for Lucy. She exploded.

"NOT A WOMAN'S JOB? I WILL NOT SEE MY FAMILY HURT UNDER THE ASSUMPTION THAT I CANNOT DEFEND MYSELF, I CARE FAR TOO MUCH ABOUT ALL OF YOU TO SEE YOU HURT BECAUSE OF ME!" she shrieked, furious. Susan gulped—Lucy rarely got angry, but when she did—by the Lion, it was frightening. Before she could reply, Peter was at the door, which although Lucy had locked back, was then unlocked by Susan when she wasn't looking.

"By the Lion, Lucy, I think they can hear you in Archenland." He chuckled. He then quailed as she turned her furious gaze on him.

"Not now, Peter." She hissed. Peter gulped—now was usually the time when daggers found themselves flying through the air at her skilled hands. He shuddered. The last time she'd done that was when she had been irritated by a particularly…thick suitor. It had taken the work of multiple men to unpin his clothing, stuck on the doors of the throne room, from the daggers.

The poor Lone Islander had slunk back off to Avra and the Islands had been exceptionally quiet since then.

Then it hit him—he was the High King, was he not?

"Queen Lucy, as High King of Narnia, I forbid you from fighting the Duke." He said triumphantly.

That triumph quickly vanished when her venomous gold-flecked green gaze turned to him again.

"I cannot believe you, Peter." Lucy seethed. "Rest assured you will see just how…unpleased I am later."

Peter gulped as she stormed from the room.

"Good job, Peter." Susan remarked sarcastically as she began to chase Lucy.

I'm going to die. He thought morbidly, wondering how much of a chance he had if he ran for it once the duel was over and the Duke gone.