28. Tell of a time one of the Four acted out the adjective attached to their titles—Magnificent, Gentle, Just, or Valiant.

My sister dips a curtsy across the ballroom, taking the hand the ambassador holds out to her. I know I'm frowning—I know she would scold me for it—but he is not known for his gentleness with women, and I do not like my sister dancing with him.

I glance over the ballroom for Lucy, and she's dancing with Mr. Tumnus, and laughing. The frown melts off my face. Edmund is discussing something with a Centaur and a Dwarf—his hands are moving all over the place, emphatic and swift, and I know he's fine. Oreius appears to be having as much fun as he ever does, bowing and dancing with a Daughter of Eve I don't know, and Mr. Beaver is standing by the table with fish, sniffing the air.

Susan does try to make sure it's fresh for him. Judging by the amount he's putting on his plate, he's grateful for it.

Susan creates nights like this. Night when I can see that Narnia is doing well; that my closest family and friends are living well. She takes the Golden Age and makes it real.

We just hadn't counted on the ambassador, and I look back to where he's dancing with my beautiful sister, and I frown. This is meant to be a joyful night for us all, and I will not let Susan's be ruined.

But if I directly offend the ambassador, it will be ruined anyway. This calls for talents a bit other than where my own lie.

I make my way to Edmund. I know he will not mind me interrupting when he hears why. Indeed, he sees me coming when I'm halfway across the ballroom, and dismisses himself from the conversation of his own accord. Seeing I have his attention, I head for the food, where we will have a good excuse to meet without drawing attention.

I have at least learned this much.

"What thunderclouds cause thy face to twist in such a manner on such a joyful occasion?" Edmund murmurs. I nod to where our sister is still dancing. "Ah."

"She is not enjoying her evening."

"No, and such shall be remedied. Excuse me." He turns to leave the table and pauses. "I would not put so many orange slices on thy plate. Thou dost not like them."

I look down at my plate and realise there's a pile of orange slices; I hadn't been paying attention to what food I'd been gathering.

I head to a group of Rabbits—gardeners for the castle gardens, with their litter, attending their first ball—and place the plate beside them. "Good cousins, I notice you have not had time to eat yet. Please enjoy." I nod at the parents and pat the head of the Kit who is delightedly squealing, and head back to my throne. I will enjoy seeing my brother at work.

Sure enough, in just a few minutes a member of the ambassador's entourage slips into the ballroom and weaves his way to his master. I do not know what excuse Edmund created—there may be talks tomorrow about a treaty with his kingdom, moved up a few days, or perhaps Edmund set two of his entourage quarrelling—either way, the ambassador vanishes. Susan sweeps him a curtsy as he does, and then looks up, to be almost instantly claimed for a dance by Oreius. I wait, just a moment more, to make sure Edmund returns to the ballroom and rejoins his friends—it does not take long at all for his hands to be moving again—and sit back, well satisfied. Now this is a very good evening.

The dance ends, and half the dancers make their way to the food tables. Mr. Beaver is in a corner, looking well satisfied with a plate that he didn't have to wait in line for, and Mrs. Beaver bustles up to him, tugging on his paw to bring him out to the dance-floor for the next dance. I can't help smiling; there's so much love there, even in his complaining as he shuffles forward and takes his wife in his arms.

"I would count this evening a success based on thy smile alone," a voice murmurs to my side, and I look over to see Susan settle in her throne.

"A very great success, and all due to thy careful planning."

"Hmmm." Susan lets her gaze sweep over the ballroom, lingering on Lucy, who is now dancing with a Fox. "I was not enjoying it too much at the beginning."

I keep my tone as courteous as possible, but I wonder if I am giving myself away. "Were there problems?"

"Only in the uninvited company. Uninvited company that swiftly vanished. Was thy hand at work in that, my brother?"

I sigh. I hoped it would not spoil her evening. "Both mine and Edmund's. We did not wish to see thy evening spent in ungentle hands."

To my surprise she smiles. "The ambassador took no umbrage, and my own joy was restored." She leans a little bit further over, to say for my ears alone, for she knows it is easier for me to accept that way: "Truly, Peter—the way thou wears kingship is magnificent."

There is little to say to that, for I have seen the Lion's will worked through me, but I also know my own weakness, and what I would be without Him—nothing.

But I am not without Him. So I stand and hold my hand out to my sister. "Wilt dance with me?" And together we go down to our people and rejoice in the joy that Aslan sustains.