A/N: Wow, another quick update! I guess I must really appreciate you guys, or something. :) In other news, though, I just found out today that my SAT is not on March 30, like I thought, but rather on March 14! That's a lot closer than I expected! So I'll have to start taking free time to study for it, as well as the ACT on April 4. :( I should be able to update regularly anyway, but I doubt I'll be able to manage such quick ones. Sorreh, guys, but I guess that's what happens when one's a junior in high school…

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Thus, the army moved southward. Scouts, steadfast old hounds and sharp-eyed eagles, brought back word that the fleeing Galmanian army had apparently rejected their intention to capture Beruna and were now on the Plains, much to Peter and Edmund's relief. The River, Narnia's most precious possession, was yet theirs.

They once again crossed the wide waterway, the water considerably less icy than it had been those two weeks ago when first they had forded it. The landscape began to change once they were west of it; what had once been soaring ridges and sharp-faced cliffs now smoothed out into grassy plains and the occasional lazy hill. Enna, from her place on Peter's tall horse, could see for miles when the creature came to the top of one of these green hummocks, and it looked to her as a great waving ocean, broken only at times by mossy boulders and a few deer.

March had come in like a lion, but it went out as a lamb, and as April quickly approached, the plains burst forth in a myriad of wildflowers. Enna admired the cheery little things, and never once was in want of one, for Peter made sure she was always well supplied with the freshest and brightest blossoms that he could find. The Narnian army rejoiced greatly at the coming of spring and the renewal of their king's courtship, and the elation carried them through another two weeks of mundane wandering.

Night was falling on the fifteenth day after the battle at Lithil Downs when a scout, a griffin with wings as long as Enna was tall, circled overhead and alighted on a boulder, rasping for the attention of Narnia's leaders.

"My lords and ladies! I bring news of Galma."

Orieus held up a commanding hand and the army came to a clattering halt behind them.

"Speak, good sir Anastus," Peter called out, his arms tightening around Enna's waist as he reined his horse in to a halt.

The griffin's wings stretched and fluttered as they caught a gust of wind, but the creature remained earthbound for the time being. "I have come across their camp, sire, about fifteen minutes' flight from here. Fires were springing up as I circled above, and I believe that they are intending to sojourn there for the night."

"Were you seen?" King Edmund asked.

"Nay, sire, I do not think."

"Excellent. Tell me, Anastus, of the land."

Anastus' tail swept the boulder impatiently, but he replied, "They are settled in a lowland, sire, as Galmanians are wont to do—Galthera Glen, I have heard it called. They think that they will not be seen. But," he added proudly, "they did not figure on myself."

"Well done, good sir," Queen Lucy put in.

Peter nodded. "Aye, very well done. Do you think, Anastus, that we will be able to engage them in the morning?"

"Aye, sire, if you are not seen."

"Then we must strategize carefully. Thank you, sir, for your eyes and your wings—you are free to do as you wish. Goodnight."

Anastus bowed low. "I bid Your Majesties and Excellencies a very good sleep. May the Lion always breathe mercifully upon you."

"Goodnight, Anastus," Lucy called cheerfully as the griffin spread its wings and took to the air.

"What does Your Majesty desire?" asked Lord Lorendo, nudging his horse up beside Peter's.

"What does Your Excellency suggest?"

Enna, who had been listening quietly up to this point, turned slightly around to catch Peter in her glimpse as well as Lorendo. "Might I propose an idea?"

She heard Peter's hesitancy in his reply: "I suppose it couldn't hurt."

"I suggest," she said slowly, the idea still coming together in her mind as she spoke, "that we, instead of descending upon the enemy ourselves, bait the enemy to descend upon us."

"I don't understand," Queen Lucy said. Peter and Edmund shushed her.

"What I mean is, if we initiate the attack," Enna replied, "we must fight wherever the enemy is. If they are somehow enticed into attacking us, we may choose the location."

"I follow," said Lorendo.

"Therefore, we position ourselves on our ideal battleground, such as…such as on the high ground, and then sting Galma into attacking us. Rather than vice versa. That way, we get our fight and the advantage."

"I see," said King Edmund. "I do believe it wise, brother. Anastus said that Galma is at Galthera—there is a flat-topped hill there, if I recall correctly. Could we not camp there for the night, and then, in the morning, let ourselves be 'accidentally' discovered by their scouts?"

"Hmm," Peter replied, his breath brushing Enna's ear. "You're right. It shall be as you say. Oreius, kindly command the army to proceed with all caution and as much silence as can be managed—we do not want our tactic uncovered prematurely."

Lucy kicked her tired horse to Peter's side, her long brown hair bouncing gleefully as the army began to move forward again. "Oh, Peter—you will let me fight this time, won't you?"

"Most certainly not, Lucy!"

"Well, then," retorted the young queen, "I'll do it without your consent."

"You'll do no such thing."

"Oh, I shall!"

"If I have to clap you in chains, I will, Lucy!"

"Then I shall bite through them," Lucy replied stubbornly. "I'll gnaw off my hands and feet to fight for Narnia, if it comes to that."

"You are one bloody-minded little girl."

"I'm not little, Peter! Need I remind you that King Lune approached you for my hand in marriage to his son Corin last summer?"

"Aye. And Corin was scarcely eight years old at the time—hardly a measure of your worldly experience."

Enna hid a grin.

Queen Lucy huffed indignantly, lifting her nose into the air. "I demand that you agree to let me fight for my country."

Peter looked to King Edmund for support, but the young king simply shrugged helplessly. "Lucy…"

"Enna knows how well I can fight!" Queen Lucy insisted, pointing to her. "Tell him, Enna."

"Well," Enna wavered—the girl did know her way around a battlefield, that much was sure. "Aye, Peter, I think she makes a reasonable request. At least give her your consent, so that she might be properly prepared and outfitted. You know she will make her way onto the field, either way."

Peter sighed and put his forehead on her shoulder briefly. "I cannot refuse both of you. Very well, Lucy, you may have your wish."

Lucy beamed happily. "Oh, thank you, Peter, thank you, Enna!"

"But if you are hurt or killed," Peter called after her as she turned her horse to go and tell the Nymrunians the good news, "I shall personally tie your hands to your feet and have you carried the rest of the way!"

Queen Lucy's unfazed laughter echoed out over the plains, and Peter sighed in Enna's ear. "I'll regret this."

"Aye, but she is happy now."

They rode along in silence for a few minutes before Peter spoke again. "Enna, I wish that you wouldn't be as foolish as she, and stay behind while the trained soldiers wage battle."

Enna gasped and turned so fast to look at him in the saddle that her elbow collided with his stomach. "Peter, I'm a knight! I refuse to be cast aside."

Groaning, Peter rubbed at the ache she'd left. "Fine. It was worth an attempt."

"Hardly. You know I would have refused."

"Perhaps. But at least now I can say I tried. Now go on, turn around, I can't see where we're going."

Enna snorted and obeyed, and one of his arms wrapped tightly around her in response. (It didn't make her feel half as snug as usual, for he was well armored and his chain mail sleeves were hard and unforgiving.)

At long last, the glint of campfires over the ridge caught everyone's attention, and the army proceeded with a silence that startled Enna.

"This is where we shall camp," King Edmund whispered to someone, and the horses came to a soft, jingling stop. Spread out in the glen below were hundreds of campfires, flickering softly in the night air, dark forms huddled around them.

Peter released Enna and dismounted softly, holding out his arms and lifting her gently to the ground. "Sleep well, love," he whispered against her cheek, kissing the scar left by his pauldron those many weeks before. "I shall not see you again tonight, I think—they are already setting up your tent. But we shall wake early to engage the enemy. Make sure my sister retires on time."

"Aye, Peter."

He bent his head to hers and kissed her goodnight, then squeezed her hand once and led the frothy horse off, doubtless to open the battle maps and pore over them until the late hours of the night, planning every detail of the next morning's assault.

"I hear you made the king's strategy for him again," came Aramir's voice from behind her.

Enna turned, smiling at the sight of him. "Aye. He and King Edmund say I have a head for strategy."

"I'm glad for you. They allowed you to fight tomorrow, I assume?"

"Aye."

Aramir's horse tossed its head, and he stroked its nose. "You ought to be careful."

"I will, I promise." Enna watched him for another moment, observing the tired lines under his eyes. "You look exhausted. Is something bothering you?"

"No."

"There is. What is it? You're not ill, are you?"

"No, I'm not ill. And nothing's wrong."

"You seem unsettled."

Aramir blew an impatient breath, much like his horse. "Enna…ever since you told me that vow you made, I…I have been troubled."

Enna frowned, pushing her plait off of her shoulder. "Why, whatever for? You told me it was a good vow to make."

"Yes, but…" Aramir sighed with frustration. "I cannot help but think…that you have made a mistake, falling in with King Peter again."

Immediately, Enna's hackles rose. "How—how dare you!" she sputtered angrily, barely keeping her voice at a whisper.

"Listen, Enna," he pleaded. "There is a difference—a very big difference—between being a peace-monger and a walkover. You are trying to be a peace-monger, but you've become a walkover."

"A walkover!" Enna's temper flared dangerously, but she managed to get it under control just in time. "I am being no such thing, Aramir. I am doing nothing that I do not wish to." It was only a small lie, but it pricked annoyingly at her conscience.

Aramir shook his head. "I thought better of you, Enna…I really did."

With that, he led his horse away quietly, leaving Enna to fume in silence. How dare he say such inappropriate (and painfully accurate) things to her! Why—why—she would show him. Oh, yes, she would.

Now, if only she could banish those bothersome doubts…!