Sam was momentarily lost when she woke up. Soft breath spilled across her face not her own, and the sun shone from all the wrong angles. It didn't take her long to identify where she was. Happily, she moved a bit closer to Edmund and went back to sleep.
At breakfast, a messenger came in with an urgent letter for Sam.
"I wonder-oh, it's from my homeland. My father's accountant has written, I wonder why…"
Sam scanned the letter, and the horror grew on her face.
"What is it?" Susan asked, worried for her friend.
"'I write to you of plans your father made upon your birth,'" Sam read, "'plans that involves a treaty with a great and powerful nation. This country very nearly declared was on us, which our country surely could not survive, but your father promised your hand in marriage to the crown prince. This treaty still stands in light of your father's passing, and in 3 weeks' time the prince, now king, will come for you at your current residence. If you refuse, the country will declare war. I write in advance, for I come by horse to your palace to discuss this matter with you. If I may request a meeting with the Majesties and yourself to discuss the technicalities, it would be most appreciable. Yours truly, Marcus Wimbled.'"
Sam looked up to take in their reaction. Lucy, in denial, repeated, "Wimbled? Who has a name like that?"
Susan, like Peter, looked at Edmund, who was very white. His fork clattered to the floor en route to his mouth.
"Engaged?" he croaked, and turned and fled the room.