Chapter 5: Feast the Eyes

Not so very late into the evening, a tall, slender figure could be seen descending the grand stair at Cair Paravel. Aravis' appearance, like the Narnian Continent, was richness, beauty, and danger at once. Her face and bare arms were the color of nutmeg, her eyes the darkest midnight, and her lips like the fire flowers from beyond the world's end. Her long, silken, chestnut hair was gathered elegantly at the top of her head and fell like the Great Waterfall down her back. Her heart beat was thick and fast as she took the steps downward, feeling uncertain of her footing, but willing herself not to do something embarrassing.

At first, no one in the busy hall noticed her. There were fauns and centaurs, and animals and nymphs—it was a sight that would have shocked Aravis years ago, but now she was as comfortable as could be, though admittedly it was odd to be one of only seven humans in the room. Somehow she knew suddenly, as one often does, that someone's eyes were on her. She scanned the room and saw Prince Cor, standing by a grand fireplace, a crystal goblet in one hand and the other behind his back. He was as splendidly dressed as she, wearing a blue tunic sewn with the Green Pine and Crescent Moon of Archenland, leather breeches, and a sword belt and sword. It was his Court clothes, and they somehow suited him perfectly in this atmosphere, though Aravis normally would prefer to see him barefoot and wearing earthy greens and browns.

On his golden head he wore a thin silver circlet and… it was his eyes that were watching Aravis as she walked down the stair. His appearance spoke of the north, a compliment to Aravis' southern spice—each completing the other. Now Aravis felt doubly nervous, for the way he watched her was so very… different from any way he'd watched her before. Unblinking he stared, and she noticed, even from across the room, the white in his knuckles from holding his goblet so tightly. His mouth opened, and she saw him mouth the words, "By the Lion…" though he did not speak. His eyes were somehow darker, but they shone in the firelight with a glassy luster. Their lids were half-shut, in a gaze that Aravis had seen once before, though not directed toward her. Once, before her brother had gone to war, she'd caught him in the stables with a servant girl. Nothing so very scandalous was there in a chaste embrace and kiss, but Aravis had seen that same look in her brother's eyes when gazing on the servant girl… it spoke of some secret knowledge that she, as a small child, could not comprehend. But when she saw it in Cor's eyes—directed at her, Aravis, she could hardly bring herself to believe what she… thought it meant. Whether from drink or from staring at her so long, the prince momentarily lost balance, and staggered. He righted himself, looked around, and smiled at Aravis.

But now others were noticing her as well, for she had finally reached the bottom stair, and Lucy approached her, flanked by large talking squirrels, a leopard, and a bear. "You remember Aravis Tarkheena, don't you?" The animals all nodded and shook Aravis' hand in greeting.

"Lovely to see you all," said Aravis. She was ushered through a throng of people—some she knew, like Mr. and Mrs. Beaver, and some she did not, like Balins, a merry, black haired faun who greeted her warmly. Also were her old friends, the horses Bree and Hwin, with whom she and Cor had escaped Calormen four years ago. "Hwin!" said Aravis, approaching the mare and stroking her velvet nose. "Bree!" She patted the stallion on the neck. "How are you? I didn't know you'd be here!"

"Aravis," said Hwin softly, nuzzling her old mistress.

"Good evening, Tarkheena," said Bree with a merry whinny.

"How long have you been here?" asked Aravis.

"Not long," said Bree. "The Queen Lucy invited us in—we are housed in the lovely Castle stables, you know."

In Archenland, where there were almost no talking animals, it would have been strange to see all these animals—especially horses—inside a castle for a feast. But it was as natural as anything at Cair Paravel, for Narnia belonged to the Talking Beasts.

Gradually, with much encouragement from Lucy, Aravis was able to make her way to the head table which sat on a dais at the end of the room. She sat—everyone was beginning to sit now—beside Lucy on her left. No one sat on her right, because she was at the end of the table. The fireplace where she'd seen Cor was to the right of her, but when she glanced over there, she didn't see him anymore. She searched the room for him, though with Lucy talking to her it was hard to concentrate, but she never caught sight of him again throughout the evening. She knew he must be there somewhere, but she was busied first with conversation, then with an excellent feast of which she felt she'd eaten too much.

At last the feast was over, and all retired for the night. Aravis was disappointed that she'd not seen more of Cor that night, especially since she'd been so splendidly dressed, but she went to bed with a full belly, and was very warm in her covers.

In the second watch of the night, Aravis woke from troubled dreams—the same ones she'd had since she came to these northern lands, of being chased by the Lion. Only… this time it was different. After a moment, it changed. It was no longer the Lion who pursued her, but her father, Kidrash Tarkaan. She raced, hand in hand with Cor

They were on a field of green, standing side by side. Above them was a sky of steel, gigantic menacing clouds moved above them, and pockets of lightning struck in the gray expanse. Before tem was a steep hill. Aravis looked at Cor—he was staring at her. His eyes were an intense blue; they seemed to shine with light from inside. "You are ready?" he asked her.

She nodded: she was ready. They both drew from their sides long, curved Calormine scimitars, in both hands, and they began to run. The grass was wet—so slippery that they had to let go of their swords with one hand and helped and hindered one another, pressing onward all the time. The hill became steeper and steeper, but still they ran. "Almost there," Cor kept saying, breathing harder and harder. "We'll make it—we will. Aravis was running as fast as she could, but she was progressing so very slowly. No matter how hard she ran, Cor always seemed to be a step ahead, but then, holding her hand, he pulled her along until, panting and stopping, they reached the top of the hill and looked out. Before them was the wide ocean. Behind—for now they looked behind them—was the Tisroc's Army, led by Aravis' father. All of the soldiers had menacing faces—they were all murderous, and hungry for Aravis' blood.

"Do you trust me?" asked Cor, and the time stopped. The pursuing army stopped running, and everything was still, awaiting Aravis' response.

"What?" asked Aravis.

"I can change the world for you…" said Cor, "But only if you trust me."

"I trust you," said Aravis.

Time started again, and the army pursued. Cor clutched Aravis arms, and pulling her toward him, he bent his head down…

Aravis woke with a start—and was immediately irritated that it had been a dream… and that she'd dreamed it at all. She punched her pillow and tried to go back to sleep, but the moon was shining directly in her window, its beams straight in her face, and it was as bright as day.

Exasperated, she threw off her covers and walked to the window to pull the sash closed. But the view of the shore stopped her. Along the water's edge, there walked a solitary figure, his feet bare, the low waves licking his ankles and receding, back and forth, back and forth as he walked north, away from the castle.

It was Cor, she knew, from the way the moon light shone on his wind-blown golden curls. Come to think, it might be Corin, she thought… but she knew better. Corin, though wild and boisterous, would never walk in the dead of night, for he was a heavy sleeper, and didn't even rise early if there was no good cause for it. Besides, there was something in the resolute, though relaxed gate, the way that he seemed to carry himself, as if the world weighed on his shoulders along, that told her it was Cor… her Cor… her beloved prince.

He wore a white, billowed shirt and breeches, rolled to the knee, and nothing else. Had he just left his chamber? Perhaps he could not sleep either. Some restless—or reckless—notion came to Aravis, tempting her to don a dressing gown and run out to him there, on the moonlit shore… but she hesitated by her place at the window. Why should she wish to do this? He was not waiting for her. He would wonder at her presence. She had no pretence on which to address him. He'd gone out for a walk in the sea air, not to be accosted by a woman who could think of nothing but him.

It was with great effort that she remained where she was, contenting herself to simply watch him, walking down and up the shore. When he would walk toward her, she stepped back into the shadows, in case he chanced to look up exactly at her window—she didn't want him to know that she was gazing on him like the hope of eternity. Like a starving prisoner, condemned to death, she watched him—a king's feast, both enticing and mocking, one she could only devour with her eyes, never anything more.

Had she been mistaken about his look earlier in the evening? He'd definitely been staring at her as though a starved man. Had she… affected him? The thought caused her heart to race momentarily, and she took many deep breaths to calm herself.

Unfortunately—or was it the purposeful design of the gods?—she was so lost in her thoughts of the way he'd looked at her that she forgot to hide in the shadows the next time Cor turned to the south to continue his walk. She watched his gaze as it directed toward her window—she could not see his eyes—for both distance and light impaired her vision somewhat, but his face was turned toward her, crowned by his hair, looking like one of the tragic statues of the gods in the Tisroc's palace. He raised a hand and waved to her. Abashed, she raised a hand as well and returned his salute. Feeling completely ashamed, she drew back from the window until she could not see him any longer, and returned to her bed, exhausted, to sleep the rest of the night through.

OoOoOoOoO

The fortnight of visiting with the Narnians was one that remained among Aravis' fonder memories for the rest of her days. Narnia was a happy land, and its sovereigns ruled it justly. There were feasts and hunts, dances and visits, and the inhabitants were truly joyful. Narnia hardly ever had cause to go to war, for they were at peace with everyone, and anyone who tried to start anything soon realized that she was a strong enemy to provoke, with any number of beasts, giants, and divine waters and trees to contend with. Though she presented a formidable foe in battle, that aspect of Narnia slept now for four years since the defeat of Rabadash's army.

Leant Narnia's flagship, the Splendor Hyaline, the court of Anvard were watered and victualed for their three day voyage to Tashbaan, and Aravis found herself saddened a little as she parted from Queen Lucy. "We'll see you again soon," said Lucy, whose eyes filled with tears, as she hugged and kissed her friend. "Do not be sad."

"I am not the one weeping, my dear friend," said Aravis with a kind laugh. She was just as sorry to leave, but did not often make much of a show with her emotions. It was something she admired about Lucy, as impulsive as she could be, she certainly lived life fully.

"Be good," said Lucy, "And try to enjoy yourself…"

"Because you ask it, I shall do my utmost."

The Splendor was rowed past the shallows and beyond Narnia's cliffs, and a sure wind caught her sail, white with a red lion rampant, and brought the party out to sea.

The wind was lovely in Aravis' face as she stood on the poop, looking back at Cair Paravel. The castle was quickly shrinking into the distance, and once they rounded the cliffs of the peninsula upon which it was settled, it would soon be out of sight.

"Why look you to the past, Lady?" It was Cor, and he'd walked up beside her on the deck, leaning on the railing.

"The past, my Lord?" asked Aravis.

"There is open see before us, the castle behind," said Cor.

"It is the wind, my Lord," said Aravis. "I like the way it cools me."

"Indeed," said Cor. "It is pleasant." Aravis glanced at him sidelong, watching his eyes close and his lips part, looking freer and calmer than he had in many weeks. Aravis loved him best like this—just like this, without court duties and the ever-pressing needs things to be learned as the king-to-be.

"You are glad this day, Prince," said Aravis softly.

"I am, my Lady," said Cor, not opening his eyes, but tilting his head toward her. "There is freedom on the seas… Life is as it should be." His golden curls danced wildly around his head, shining in the sun's rays, and a slight smile played on his lips. Neither for the first time… nor for the last, Aravis drank him in, glad, as he was, to be free once more.