The next morning, Enna woke early, plaited her hair, and went to visit Aramir. It was the morning of his last day in the dungeons, and soon he would be released to have his run of the castle, but she was drawn to him, had a strong kinship with that battered young man—both of them had been mistreated by the detestable sea captain and endured much on his ship. Even suffered, perhaps, for a good percentage of their lives.

With her she brought a basket of steaming bacon with a bowl of porridge perched precariously inside. When she stepped into the dank darkness of the dungeon, her throat seemed to swell up and her heart began to race, but she forced herself to continue down into the bowels of the castle. It was colder than she remembered, and she repressed shivers and clutched the warm basket to her chest. This little action soothed her frayed nerves, and she walked with her head higher than the king might've liked, despite all his gracious words the night before. But she forgot everything that had happened to her when she saw Aramir's joyous face peering out from behind the bars.

"Good morning," he called to her with a delighted smile. "I see that you are not too good to visit with a poor sailor such as myself."

"Oh, ta," she replied simply, and knelt down in the corridor outside the cell. "How is your back?"

"It is quite well now, thanks to you," he said, his grin relaxing but by no means disappearing. "It has ceased bleeding altogether…" He trailed off, and his eyes drifted. "Er…is that food there in that basket?"

Enna smiled quietly. "Of course it is. Here." She handed it to him through the bars.

"Thank you, Enna," he said sincerely, and attacked the bacon. "How did you sleep, up there in the castle?" he asked between bites.

Enna hesitated a moment before answering, "Oh…well, thank you."

He looked up curiously. "'Well'?"

She bit her lip, then admitted, "I tried to escape."

Aramir nodded slowly, looking at his bacon. "I see. And how did that go?"

"Not…particularly…well."

"As I can tell," he added, arching an eyebrow at her.

Enna blushed. "I feared that the king would have my head if I didn't."

"Did you think that you had offended Their Majesties in some irreparable way?" Aramir asked.

Miserably, Enna nodded.

"Well, I think that I have an obligation as a seaman to tell you that, of all the countries in this wide world of ours…Narnia is the safest. You picked a very good place to stow away to."

"So I have been told."

"Oh?"

"…Someone reassured me that…that my neck was quite secure, in Narnia..."

Aramir laughed, and it made Enna smile, too. "And who was that?"

"…His Majesty the king."

He nodded. "I have indeed been told that the kings and queens are compassionate and quite unassuming."

Enna silently agreed.

Aramir looked at her. "Your hair has been cleaned, has it not?"

"Aye. I bathed."

He began to eat his porridge. "You look quite different under the dirt, you know. I took you for a Calormen. But you are not dark enough for that. And your hair is lighter, too."

"I'm from the isle of Galma."

"I see. That makes sense."

"My mother had blonde hair," Enna went on, "and my father's was as dark as coffee. I think I am right between them."

Aramir nodded. "At any rate, you look well."

"Really?" Enna heard herself saying. Then she blushed. "I mean, thank you."

"It was very kind of you to bring me such food," he added. "I must admit, I was getting rather lonely. I am used to being around many people at all hours of the day."

Enna felt her lips twitching in a smile. "You're quite welcome."

He looked up and returned the grin. A minute passed in silence before he spoke again. "What was it like, being locked up in the brig?"

His words brought a flood of unwelcome memories into Enna's mind. "It was…dark…"

"As I can well imagine."

"And quite damp. There were a lot of barnacles on the walls. I cut myself several times, I think."

He pointed at her cheek. "That must be where that came from."

"What?" she asked, feeling her skin. A tender line of scabbing met her searching fingers, and she remembered resting that very spot against the barnacled wall to sleep. "Oh, aye. I guess so."

"Enna, I hope you don't mind me saying this," Aramir began, "but you seem very kind, too kind to have done this kind of business your whole life, as I have. And yet you have the look in your face of having seen your fair share of difficulty."

Enna, who had felt her guard tumbling down, suddenly found it around her again. "Hasn't everyone?" she answered, standing.

"Oh, don't go," Aramir protested, standing up, too. "I meant no offense. I am simply curious. Disregard my question, if it makes you so unhappy."

But it was too late, for Enna felt her heart constrict and knew she couldn't go on. "Good day, Aramir," she said. "I will see you later."

And she quickly made her escape

--

Naeomi came later that morning with a lovely blue gown to have Enna try on. At first, Enna stubbornly resisted putting on such finery, but after a good half hour of convincing, she agreed. Of course, it was much too small, and Naeomi ran back to the seamstress to fetch a larger, lavender one. It fit Enna in the bodice, but the sleeves and skirt were too short, and Naeomi was obliged to go to the seamstress one last time for a forest green one that fit Enna nearly well enough to wear in public. Enna stood on a stool for a whole hour while Naeomi let out the bodice so it could be buttoned. In the end, however, a panting, red-faced Naeomi brought Enna over to a mirror and forced her to accept the fact that the gown was a nice cut, and the color seemed to work to reverse the browning of her skin, whereas the blue and lavender ones made her look like an absolute savage.

"I hope milady will find this gown enough to her liking so as to wear it to supper tonight," Naeomi said.

Enna tried not to stare too much at the beautiful gown. She had worn nice things once, too, but nothing so fine as the one she had on. "Aye, Naeomi. I will."

"Her Majesty the Queen Susan has ordered that your measurements be taken and a selection of gowns be sewn up for you," Naeomi continued. "Apparently, she was quite indignant when His Majesty the High King informed her that you had a lack of proper clothing. She sent immediately for seamstresses."

Enna was quite taken aback. "Oh—was she cross at anyone?"

"Of course not, milady," Naeomi said, folding her unused pins away in a rag. "She and milady are the same age, you see, and she was only upset that you should be forced to wear…tunics and trousers. Queen Susan is very good."

"Aye," Enna breathed, turning to gaze further on the fine cloth that was sweeping about her ankles. If it had not been for her sunburned and freckled cheeks and untidy plait, she might have imagined herself a lady at a palace.

And so, when she went down to supper with her head high, she fancied that the courtiers whispered amongst themselves, wondering who this mysterious foreign noblewoman was and why she had graced them with her presence. In reality, of course, they whispered that the young woman with the tousled plait and escaping curls was the foreign stowaway rescued by their very own high king from the clutches of an evil, fiendish sea captain who was bent on having her life as recompense for a few mouthfuls of water and salt tack.

Enna heard these grossly exaggerated tales and desperately wanted to set them right, but could not do much but listen while she slipped morsels of aromatic beef pie and mouthwatering gooseberry tart into a napkin for Aramir between bites. Every so often, she glanced up over the heads of the feasting Narnians to see the four monarchs at the front of the hall chatting affably with each other: the coal-headed king would grin and say something with his mouth twisted in a smirk, and the high king and the youngest would laugh in response, while the beautiful queen arched an eyebrow and made a teasing reply. This amiable display made Enna's heart warm, for she and her sister had shared many similar light-hearted conversations when they were young.

But what both puzzled and gratified Enna most of all was the frequency and ease with which a faun—that was what those goat-men were called—or a young centaur or a talking hound would approach the dais to address the kings and queens directly. As she watched, the words that the high king had spoken to her only the night before came to her mind: "You face no castigation here. Not in my kingdom."

And she made up her mind right then and there to present herself to Queen Susan and thank her personally for the gowns, and to thank the high king for his kindness. She stood up, but at that same moment, everyone in the room stood as though they possessed one brain and moved to exit the hall. Apparently, supper was over. Her chance had been spent, but Enna felt only a little disappointment. Addressing monarchs was certainly not her favorite pastime! She let herself be carried by the crowd towards the exit.

Suddenly, her name was called, and a warm hand closed on her wrist. Enna turned quickly to see the high king smiling down at her not unkindly.

"I see you have come to join us at sup, Lady Enna."

"You can hardly say that now, as it is concluded," she replied boldly. She flexed her fingers, and he dropped her wrist.

"Quite right, my lady. Then you shall have no qualms about leaving your dinner mates"—glancing at the near-empty table—"to entertain my younger brother for a moment. He is quite excited to hear your impression, and has been for some time."

At this, Enna's heart lurched, leaving her breathless. But the cider she'd drunk had left her blood hot, and she lifted her chin. "Aye, sire. I would be glad to."

"Brilliant," he said, and they went together back towards the dais. Enna's heart beat harder with each step, but she managed to keep her hands folded in front of her and her gaze steady. The coal-headed king stood at her approach.

"Ah, you are Enna," he said, and bowed to her.

Enna's knees bent by themselves, and she curtsied low. "Aye, sire."

"I must say, this is a much nicer introduction than our last one," said the youngest queen. "I prefer these kinds to the others."

"Well said, Lucy," said the high king. "Then let me reintroduce you all to Lady Enna, of Galma."

"Well met, Lady Enna," said the beautiful queen. "I am Susan."

The coal-headed king cleared his throat.

"Oh, all right, Queen Susan, if you absolutely must."

"I'm Lucy," said the youngest. "Oh, Edmund, she already knows I'm queen, why must I say it again? It takes such a dreadful long time to say it all, you know."

"That is my brother, King Edmund," said the high king to Enna.

"Aye, sire, I know you all," Enna replied.

"So," said King Edmund, "Peter here tells us you can give a pretty good imitation of me."

"'Pretty good'?" Queen Lucy echoed. "If I recall correctly, Peter said, quote, 'She sounds more like you than you do, Ed.'"

Enna grinned despite herself, but no one noticed.

"Right then," said King Edmund. "Let us hear it. Please," he added when the high king glared at him.

Enna felt a hot blush rise in her cheeks, but she tucked a stray curl behind her ear and repeated, "Right then. Let us hear it—please."

The high king laughed, but the other three stared at her in amazement for a moment, before bursting out in requests.

"Can you mimic animal sounds?" Queen Susan asked.

"Aye, Your Majesty."

"Oh, do mimic a Trallian lark," said Queen Lucy.

Enna did so.

"That's bloody brilliant!" King Edmund cried. "…Do a duck."

"Oh, Ed, that is quite an improper thing to ask a lady to do."

But Enna heard herself imitating a duck, of all things, much to the hilarity of the four kings and queens. She hid her face behind her hands, mainly to hide her embarrassment, but also to hide the foolish grin that had spread itself across her face. She hadn't had this much fun since…well, it had been a long time.

Enna even felt a little disappointed when Queen Lucy began to yawn and the high king suggested that they retire for the night. But the two queens and King Edmund went away with the promise that they would all think very hard of people to mimic and they would test her further in the morning. The high king walked out of the hall with her, chuckling to himself and shaking his head.

"I say, Lady Enna, I never expected…"

"What?"

"I mean to say, it was rather surprising to see you so eager to entertain my siblings tonight. Until now, you have been most quiet in my presence." He paused. "I think it is the new dress."

"Oh, do not blame my foolishness on the fine gown your sister commissioned for me," Enna replied. "My sister loves—that is, she liked to hear me mimic, too. I expect I remembered those times."

"You have a sister, as well?" he asked.

"Aye, sire. I did."

His fair brow furrowed a little. "Why do you use the past tense, my lady Enna? If you do not mind the question, of course."

Enna hesitated, but found the answer spilling out. "My sister died when she was but fifteen years, sire. She fell out of her window…"

"How old were you?"

"Seventeen, sire."

He heaved a deep sigh. "You cannot be much older than twenty. You have my pity, Lady Enna, but not my empathy, for I have not yet known the pain of loss."

"I am eighteen, sire."

At this, he very nearly stopped walking. "By the lion! Enna, that was…so soon!"

"I am fully aware, Your Majesty," Enna answered, struggling to keep the misery out of her voice.

He shook his head in disbelief, and they continued in silence. Enna could remember Laeia like she was standing in front of her, with her long, dirty blonde locks and mouth that was slightly too big for her face. Laeia had never been a bright child, having fallen ill with a terrible fever that ravaged her mind and intellect when she was scarcely a fortnight old, the same fever that took their father. But she was Enna's baby sister, and that was what mattered most. Even on the days when her mother hid away in the shadows of her bedroom and Sabsestrin stalked the hallways, Enna cared for Laeia, washed her sweet little face and dressed her in clean and mended dresses every morning. In turn, Laeia was her ever-present shadow, her little admirer, who followed her every move with a finger stuck in her mouth to suck on, gazing adoringly up at her even at the low points when Enna dearly wanted to push Sabsestrin into the glimmering waters and never see him surface.

Before Enna knew it, tears were stinging in her eyes, and her nose was beginning to drip. She gave an annoyed sniff and jabbed at her cheeks with the sleeve of her gown.

The high king glanced over. "What is that you are thinking of, Enna?"

"Simply of…of this gown and how generous you and your royal siblings are," Enna answered, managing to fight the tears back into the cage she kept them in.

"Oh, think nothing of it. It is our duty to serve and help our people, is it not? And never mind that you are not 'our people,' per se. You have been granted sanctuary here, and should we not fulfill it to the full extent of its definition?"

"Aye, sir," she said. "You are very kind."

He actually blushed, and rubbed the back of his neck. "Please, Enna, I hear nothing but false compliments and put-on admirations all day. I think I shall go mad if I hear one more!"

"…Your Majesty is so very modest," Enna couldn't help but say.

He snarled to himself. "Oh, my lady, if only I had not granted you sanctuary!"

Enna grinned, and this time he saw it.

"My lady smiles? Pray tell, what kept you from such a pleasurable pastime previously?"

"Perhaps His Majesty's wit did not entice me to it," Enna replied, cheekily.

The king laughed out loud, looking joyously flabbergasted. "I see. Well, my ladyship, I profusely apologize and shall strive day and night to improve my humor, and I shall make every effort to raise it to my lady's standards."

He made a ridiculously low bow.

"Aye, sire," Enna answered, countering his bow with a curtsy. "In return, I shall practice my polite smile in the mirror so it is ready to be presented upon display of Your Majesty's so-called 'repartee.'"

At this moment, a furry little she-faun came around the corner and bowed upon recognition of the king. "Good evening, sire," she squeaked.

"And to you, Uia," he replied solemnly.

The faun bowed again and scurried away.

"I shall prove to you tomorrow that I am a wit, Enna," the king said to her. "You have my word."

Enna stopped in front of her door. "Aye, sire. I quite look forward to witnessing such a spectacle."

He smirked, and she put her hand on the doorknob. "Good night, Enna."

"Good night, sire." She turned to go in.

"Oh, and Lady Enna?" he asked in a quieter voice. "I…I would like to see you smile more often. You look so happy when you do. I…erm…yes." He turned quickly and went away down the hall.

Enna mulled over this in her mind for a moment, before putting her hand to her mouth and going into her room, smiling experimentally.