A/N: And so the plot thickens...just a quick note so you won't be turned off by this chapter. There is NOT going to be a romance between Ed and Fio. Just friendship, thanks. ;) I considered doing differently, but Edmund would've run me through himself if I'd done an OC romance. I mean, honestly... Enjoy. Please review!! :)
--Chapter 9: The Ball: Part 3--
Susan and Col both gasped, and Lord Ther looked surprised. I turned to look at my friend with an air of astonished indignation.
"You're what?!"
Jacques the Minstrel was renowned as the most famous of ballad writers in all of Narnia, Archenland, Calormen, and the Islands. He had composed and sung dozens of musical works, including "The Lay of Fair Olvin and Pire" and "Gale and the Dragon", the most popular of any ballads at the court of Cair Paravel.
And to learn that Fio was his daughter…I was stunned—and a little in awe. Jacques had been the King of Bards…that made Fio a sort of…well, Bard Princess, if there was such a position.
Fio gave me a look that shut me up before another word escaped my gaping mouth. I recovered as she continued.
"My father, most regrettably, has passed beyond this world. Therefore, I have come to the court where my father once sang to perform in his honor."
"You would be most welcome to do so," Susan replied, her eyes wide and the look on her face still one of amazement, though it was rapidly disappearing as she, too, recovered from the surprise. "Our memories of Jacques are fond, and we are most grieved to learn of his death."
A shadow passed over Fio's face, and she bent her head in sadness.
"'Twas a bloody business. Mayhap I will sing the tale of his fate, if it please you, Majesty."
"Whenever you feel the time has come, do not hesitate in beginning," Susan replied eagerly. "Tell the musicians who you are. They will do your bidding without a moment's hesitation."
"My thanks, Majesty," Fio finished, bowing low.
Susan turned my way and gave me a significant glance.
"At last you've found a suitable companion, eh, Ed? Has he asked you for a dance?" she asked, this last part directed to Fio.
I choked on my laughter at the absurd idea of asking Fio to dance, and coughed to cover it up, turning rather red in the attempt. That would be like…like asking Corin to dance!
"Su—"
"Not as of yet, Majesty," Fio said smoothly, mischief glinting in her eyes when she turned to glance at me. "But we have not long been in company."
"Well then ask her, Ed! Lion knows the ball is half over already." Susan added with a giggle, noticing my discomfort, "Yes, I've seen you lurking in your corner. It's high time you found a pretty girl to befriend. Now dance, brother, or I'll find Lady Claudia again!"
In view of that threat, I turned and marched toward the dance floor with Fio in tow, my face flushed quite red, no doubt. When the music began, I took Fio's hand in mine, but refused to look at her. I was sure she was laughing, and at last, when I could bear it no longer, I glanced down and saw that I was quite right.
"Is this your revenge for earlier today, when I wouldn't juggle with three balls?" I asked, finally voicing my thoughts.
Fio snorted—not giggled, praise the Lion!
"I suppose you could call it that. One dance should cause enough embarrassment for you. After that, we can go sit down somewhere and talk about juggling, or ballads, or that strange Lord Ther and what he's really up to."
I halted in surprise, but then continued in the dance when I saw how awkward it would be to just stand there with everyone dancing around us.
"Do you know something about Lord Ther?" I murmured, loud enough so that only she could hear it.
"I know he's quite suspicious looking. I don't know why your sister enjoys being surrounded by such men. I mean, Lord Col is one thing, but Ther…" Fio's dark eyes glanced back toward my sister and her companions, and a tremor passed through her lithe body, "somehow, Ther frightens me."
"I'm not certain he's enough to be frightened of," I said, glancing that way too, "but I somehow doubt he'll be going anywhere with my sister. See?"
I gestured toward Peter, who was also on the dance floor with Iliea in his arms. He was watching Susan as she laughed at one of Lord Ther's jests with a cautious look in his eyes. Fio followed my gaze, and a smile lit up her face.
"Now I understand. Your sister is lucky to have two brothers to guard her honor."
As I watched Fio's face, Susan's parting comment echoed through my mind: "It's high time you found a pretty girl to befriend." Fio's eyes gleamed like shadows, and her face, though tanned by sun and the briny wind, was flushed prettily. Her dress, which I had failed to notice before, was a dark crimson, which made her skin look more exotic than before.
Her hair, which had been in braids earlier that day, was now pinned back so that it fell in simple curls down her back. She truly was, I realized, a pretty girl.
But the more I studied her face, the more I knew that I would never like her in that way. She was a friend; nothing more, nothing less. Things were so much simpler that way.
Suddenly, the dance ended, and Fio dropped a step back and stretched her arms.
"'Twas a pleasure to dance with you, King Edmund," she said with a smile. "I hope it did not cause you too much embarrassment."
"None at all, for the moment," I retorted. "Though I'm sure tongues will be wagging tomorrow about it."
"That's part of the revenge, of course," Fio replied with a mischievous look. "Meanwhile, I believe the time has come for a ballad."
She undid the waist of her skirt, and revealed, underneath, a minstrel's skirt colored crimson and purple. Then she removed the first layer of her bodice to reveal a tunic of the same color.
"Find yourself a good seat," she said with a grin. "Tonight's show will be like no other since my father attended this court seven years ago. 'Twill be a show to die for."
And with that, she slipped through the crowd toward the musicians. Little did she know the prophetic depth of her words. I watched her for a second, and then began the return journey to my corner and the chair I had left there.
When I reached my seat, however, it was occupied. Princess Iliea was stoking her crystal goblet and gazing across the ballroom as if she was looking for someone. Peter had found two other chairs from somewhere, and was sitting in the one next to Iliea. I was about to turn and find somewhere else to sit, but when Peter glimpsed me, his face lit up so that I knew there was no escape.
"Edmund! I've hardly seen you all evening!"
"Indeed, brother," I replied with a grin. "You seem to have been somewhat…engaged."
Peter winced ever so slightly at the pun, and my grin must've doubled in size. He hated the whole 'fair princess' business more than I hated to dance. He was a brick, going through with it to keep a diplomatic incident as far away as possible. I leaned against the wall next to his chair, sighing and staring out across the crowd of bright colors with weary eyes.
"Good evening, King Edmund," Princess Iliea said, bestowing upon me a dazzling smile.
Her eyes were exactly the same color as sapphires, though a hint of gold sparkled in them, and her gleaming golden hair was pinned up in a complicated mess of braids and curls. Diamond earrings hung from her ears. She wore a dress of light red—closer to pink than red, though. I shuddered.
It was fascinating, really, that a young lady so perfect could be in love with my brother. Peter wasn't exactly Prince Charming (or King Charming, whichever you prefer), not that any of the young ladies noticed. But honestly, Iliea was almost too perfect; too beautiful to be any good at anything. She would look good on a throne next to Peter of course, but try getting her to go hunting or talk to an ambassador, and she'd probably give a blank stare, or faint, or something of that sort.
No, I found myself thinking, give me a girl who'd follow me into battle and could defeat me in an argument. That's the sort of girl I'd not mind dancing with.
"Are you enjoying the evening, Edmund?" Peter asked, taking a sip from his goblet. I counted to five, watching him carefully, and then, satisfied that he was not about to slump over, poisoned, shrugged carelessly.
"As much as it can be enjoyed, I suppose," I told him. He caught the meaning in my voice at once and— in spite of his own trials with Iliea—had the grace to grin compassionately.
"Su made you wear that suit after all, didn't she?"
I glared and then looked away while Peter struggled to keep from laughing. Lord Irwin approached us from the dance floor. His face was stern, as it had been the previous time I saw him, and he, too, carried a crystal goblet.
"Milady," he said, bowing to Iliea, and then greeting Peter and me as well. "Might I join you? I believe some festivities are about to begin."
"Yes," I said, suddenly standing straight up as Irwin sank down into the chair on the other side of Peter. "Fio…er, a minstrel's daughter is going to sing a ballad. There…she's just spoken to the musicians."
Peter craned his neck, and then groaned.
"Bother. Su is signaling anxiously for me to join her. Has something that can't wait another second, like as not." He handed me his goblet without so much as giving me a second glance, and then kissed Iliea's hand gallantly. "I shall return, milady."
As Peter strode away, I sat down in his char, staring at the goblet he had left me with a dull hatred of the Princess Iliea growing in my heart. What if she did marry Peter? I couldn't bear to have her around the Cair forever. Perhaps Lucy and I could come up with some scheme to get rid of her, like we sometimes had with Susan's suitors.
"Psst."
I started, almost spilling Peter's wine as a sharp sound came from behind me. I turned and caught sight of a hand waving frantically from behind a curtain. I stood carefully, being in between Iliea and Irwin, and set Peter's goblet down on my chair.
"Excuse me for a moment, Princess; Chancellor."
Then, as quickly as I could manage, I slid behind the curtain from whence the fingers had waved. While my eyes were still adjusting to the darkness, a hand reached out and grabbed my arm. I jumped back, but then the curtain parted just enough to reveal my attacker's face.
"Prince Corin?!'
It was, indeed, the prince. He sneezed in reply to my question, and then asked,
"Don't your servants ever dust back here?"
"Ask Susan sometime. She'd be the one to know. Actually, no one ever comes back here." I gave him a curious look. "What are you doing here?"
"Well," Corin paused, and then sighed. "Father said I couldn't come to the ball because of all the mischief I've been getting into. So I thought that even if I couldn't come to the ball, I could still watch the ball."
"Corin—"
"I saw you dancing with Fio. She's lovely, isn't she? I like her better in her gypsy clothes, though, don't you?"
"Corin—"
"But who was that horrid girl you danced with before? She was awfully ugly. And her dress was so pink—ugh!"
"Corin, if your father doesn't want you here, than you should return to your room," I said quickly so he wouldn't interrupt me again.
A dismayed look crossed the boy's face which was quickly replaced by a baleful glare.
"And here I thought that you were my friend. I don't want to go back—"
I stopped him with a sudden, "Sssh," for the music was starting up again in the ballroom. Corin's eyes lit up, and he gave me a pleading look.
"It's Fio, isn't it? Can I please, please watch just this one song? I'll go back to my room directly afterward —I promise, and I won't get into any trouble for…for as long as I can help it! Please??!!!"
"All right," I relented after a moment's hesitation. "Just don't mention my name when your father asks what you've been up to. And do stay hidden."
With that, I left the curtained-off alcove and found my seat again. I picked up the goblet and sank down into the chair with a weary sigh.
"Whatever is the matter?" Iliea asked, in a voice that betrayed no concern whatsoever.
I glanced her way to answer, and saw, standing behind her, the young man whom my dear sister Susan had been so entranced with: Lord Ther. I gave him a nod of welcome, which he returned casually, almost lazily.
Before I had time to answer Lady Iliea's question, a clear voice rang out in the hall, flowing along with the music. My searching eyes found the slender, purple-and-crimson figure near the musicians, and I forgot completely about answering. Fio's voice rose high and solemn, as she sang the ballad of her father's last voyage.
"In days of yore a minstrel bold
Took up his harp and sang of old
Of kings, and maids, and shields of gold
Oh, sing to me of the sea!
No finer bard of olden day
With harp of wood did somber play.
In peace he went his lonely way.
Oh, sing to me of the sea!
A maiden fair along the way
Beheld his song, and begged him stay
He did, and soon were married they
Oh, sing to me of the sea!
One child was born to Jacques, a son
A daughter, too, 'fore all was done
For happy years the four lived on
Oh, sing to me of the sea!
At last, alas, the minstrel's song
Mishapen from disuse so long
Struck Jacques heart as like a gong
Oh, sing to me of the sea!
His wife and children could not stay
The yearning song his heart did play
He left them one September day
Oh, sing to me of the sea!
Twas fate that brought him to the sea
E'en though a sailing man was he
The waves bore forth his destiny.
Oh, sing to me of the sea!
Twas on the ship called Brigand's Doom
A name both bold and opportune.
It sailed beneath a waning moon.
Oh, sing to me of the sea!
And Brigand's Doom did brigands fetch
From far and wide; they hoped to catch
A purse of gold from some poor wretch.
Oh, sing to me of the sea!
The pirates set upon the boat
And swung aboard, cutlasses out
Our bard dealt many a heavy stroke
Oh, sing to me of the sea!
As courage counts when size does not
And fear is like a sailor's knot
'gainst man and fate the minstrel fought.
Oh, sing to me of the sea!"
Fio's lovely voice soared as she reached the crescendo of her ballad. Casually, I took a drink from Peter's goblet. The musicians had played their best tonight, but this song outdid every other selection. The music lilted along with the sorrowful words with a mournful kind of longing, one that twisted in my heart like an arrow.
But as Fio neared the end of her ballad, the music grew softer, and my senses, which had been on the alert all day, suddenly slowed. I yawned, feeling abruptly quite very tired. After all, it had been an extraordinarily long day, what with preparations for the ball and everything. But then, as Fio finished her song, and I struggled to keep my eyes open, I sensed that something was not quite right.
"And now, perhaps, for a merrier song. Mayhap, 'The King Who Could Not Juggle?"
Fio turned to where I sat with a wicked smile, but her face changed as soon as she saw me.
"King Edmund?"
I did not answer, for her voice and all the world around faded away into the blackness of insensibility, and I slumped, unconscious, to the floor.
TBC….