Chapter 3

For the second time that day, Melanie's heart leapt into her throat. At first she could not speak for shock, and it was with great difficulty that she finally found her voice.

"Me? The Lady of Nast? But, Sir! I am only a young girl! And you do not know me! I am not a citizen of this country."

Fausberg smiled, "On the contrary, I know you better than you think.

"When you first came into Beren Wood, Melanie, I was there. I saw you and knew by your manner that you were unlike any Telmarine, Narnian, Archenlander, or Calormene I had ever met. I knew you were special, and I wanted to find out more about you. I enlisted this man to help."

Melanie found her shock compounded when Fausberg pointed at Taurin, the one she had assumed to take personal interest in her. "You!" she gasped at Taurin, "You were spying on me?"

Taurin's brow creased with concern. "Melanie, I truly was interested in you as a friend. I wanted to know you even before Lord Fausberg approached me. Please believe me."

His eyes pleaded, but Melanie's confidence had suffered a terrible blow. Just how much did this stranger know? Could she ever trust Taurin with personal information again? And now there was the matter of becoming the Lady of Nast. Melanie reminded her self that Lucy Pevensie had been queen at a much younger age, but Melanie knew that Lucy's history—not to mention her social standing—was vastly higher than her own. For this reason, Melanie felt compelled to tell Lord Fausberg, "Sir, please know that I hold you in the highest respect, and I truly wish Nast to be successful. It is because of this I feel it necessary to refuse your most generous gift. Taurin, as a citizen of your province, and well acquainted with your customs and laws, would I think be better suited for such a position." Melanie nearly choked on the lump forming in her throat as she finished, "I am not worthy to lead Nast."

Fausberg stared at her, very confused. He glanced at Taurin, who immediately took Melanie by the elbow. "I will speak with her privately, Milord," he said. He led Melanie back out to the hall.

The poor girl was tortured by her own memories as the mention of her unworthiness brought visions of Them before her mind's eye. Go away! she thought, Leave me alone!

But They would not leave, and remained, sneering at her, accusing her, putting her in her place where she belonged.

Suddenly, among Their leering faces, Melanie saw Taurin's kind face. The other faces dissipated like darkness around a candle. "Melanie," he pleaded, "what are you doing? Why do you refuse His Lordship?"

"I'm not w-worthy!" The words unleashed the sobs Melanie had vainly attempted to swallow. She sobbed to Taurin, "You are more worthy than I! You ought to be Lord of Nast!"

"Melanie, I cannot be Lord! I have the school to tend. There is none to teach it if I do not. It has been closed these last few months as I have been here."

"Taurin, I am not worthy!"

"You are, Melanie! You are worthy because you saved Lord Fausberg's life!"

Melanie looked at him with wide, tearful, bewildered eyes. "But you were there too!"

"Yet every witness could only identify one person: you. Think Melanie: they identified you as my father's daughter. When they discovered you were gone, I—as the next of kin—was made heir apparent and forced to live here! I don't want to be here, Melanie! I want to go back to my school. You must accept this, if only to prevent Gatling from becoming the next Lord of Nast!"

The awfulness of such a day nearly convinced Melanie to accept, if only to prevent such a terrible, conniving man from achieving his diabolical end, but They returned, spurning Melanie in her mind's eye.

"No!" Melanie cried, standing away from Taurin, "I'm not worthy!"

Taurin grabbed her arms, "Melanie, you are worthy for us," he said gently.

Melanie shook her head as tears poured down her face. "No," she sobbed, "not with what I am."

The poor girl broke from Taurin's grasp and ran, as it turned out, out into the large castle gardens.

Sobbing brokenly, running blindly, she staggered unseeing through the garden until she collapsed to her knees at the foot of a tall tree. Their faces scowled at her in her mind's eye, and she accepted Their verdict. "I'm not worthy, I'm not worthy!"

"Child."

Even in her mind's eye, Melanie saw the Lion, whose resplendent glory silenced all accusations and dispelled every last visage. Melanie opened her tear-filled eyes and raised her head.

Aslan stood before her, his magnificent face full of pity. "Why do you weep, Child?" he asked.

"Aslan," Melanie choked, "they want me to rule Nast, and be a Lady, but I cannot!"

"Why can you not, Child?"

"I . . . I—I'm n-not wo-worthy!" she wept.

"They do not seem to think so, Child. What is it that makes you so unworthy?"

Something within Melanie did not want to admit her deplorable condition to one so powerful, so pure, and so noble; yet something else convinced her that these very qualities were reason enough to tell him.

"I . . . I am . . . I—I'm cu-cu-cursed! If I rule this land, I will bring my curse upon them!"

Deep in her heart-of-hearts, Melanie realized how uncommonly insensible such logic was, but They had taught her such things since the day she was born. Why should she believe differently now?

"Melanie." Something in his tone compelled her to look at him.

"Let me tell you a tale: there was once a traitor so consumed with his own desires that he was willing to cheat and deceive his own brother and sisters to attain them. Such betrayal required his death as penalty. This death sentence was as a curse upon him. However, another man, a perfectly innocent one, whose every deed was righteous, stepped in and offered his life in place of the traitor. He died the accursed death, that by the righteous man's death, the law that once condemned the traitor would be fulfilled, and the curse would become a blessing instead."

Such a longing welled up within Melanie that she burst out, "Would that such a righteous one remove my curse!"

Aslan gazed piercingly at Melanie. "One has done so already. I am that Righteous One, the one who died once, but for all: for the traitor, for his family . . . and for you. I died the accursed death, that you might be blessed. This is why I called you to Telmar, Melanie: because I desire to bless Telmar, and I desire specifically to bless it through you. Do you believe this to be true?"

Melanie's head spun. It was unbelievable enough that this Righteous Lion could die and come back to life, but even more fantastic was the notion that he did it all with Melanie in mind! Yet—somehow—Melanie found it within herself to hesitatingly say, "Yes, I believe."

"Will you accept the blessing I give you in exchange for your curse?"

Still more hesitant: "Yes . . . I will."

"And do you willingly submit to me, following my direction and allowing me to guide your decisions and to rule your life?"

This was a tall order! But Melanie had by now made up her mind: if she intended to believe in Aslan and accept his blessing, she was going to have to be willing to do whatever he said or asked.

"Yes, I do."

The Lion breathed on her, and it seemed, as Melanie inhaled the heavy, cloying aroma, a great weight lifted off her chest. She breathed deeper than she ever thought she could breathe. She closed her eyes, dwelling fully in that single, glorious moment. When she finally opened them, Aslan was gone, but the world looked brighter.

"I'm free!" she cried.