The raucous laughter from the other room filtered easily into the kitchen as Aravis sat with her brother and Grethlas. Corin was doing his part with Fesh and Sir Morri, who, being a hired knight, was allowed at the table. They were feasting on what was probably the best the entire town had to offer, drinking to their hearts' content. Even now, she imagined she could hear Corin boasting about his variety of different accomplishments or assets.

Aravis pushed the lumpy stew around in her bowl with the flat bread, not sure what to make of it. It was a dish that she'd never had, beans, a few spices, all tied together in a reddish sauce.

"You should eat," Arrosh said quietly, looking around at the room behind them. There were a few kitchen staff working as they ate. The house they were in was not large, though it was probably the pride and joy of the headman to the village. It had only one guest room and many of the few staff did more than one task. "We need to finish soon so we can help them clean and prepare for the morning." That was the deal, they would eat and have a place to stay, then the 'slaves' and hired help would assist in what was needed.

Aravis glanced at him, he was making quick work of the small bowl and flat bread he had, Grethlas was doing the same. Her stomach twinged in hunger and she started back to eating. While the meal itself was unfamiliar, the spices brought a wave of memories. Being in her one of her childhood homes, the gardens they had there, learning to shoot a bow with her older brother. Rishti, her chest ached at the thought of her older brother. How long had it been? How long since she had last thought of him? She had loved him so much. She still did, in her heart.

Arrosh said something again, quietly looking at her. She shook her head to clear her thoughts, "What was that?"

Again, he said something, but it wasn't the common tongue. She frowned, keeping her voice low, "What are you saying, Arrosh?"

"I asked, 'Have you forgotten the Calormen tongue?'." He answered, she couldn't read what the emotion was on his face, "It seems you have."

Aravis shook her head, "I was never taught." The common tongue was the standard among the elites of the country. It was considered rude and debasing to use the language of the peoples. Only the lowest of the low didn't know the common tongue. "Your nurse must have taught you and mine did not. Father and Mother surely didn't." She bit her lip as she realized her mistake. He'd never truly known Mother. Only their unpleasant step-mother and not for very long at that.

Arrosh frowned a moment before clearing his face, "Well, thankfully, it shouldn't make a difference in many places we go. Most use the common tongue as well."

Again, the laughter flitted in through the walls and into the room. It wouldn't be long now before they would retire to their rooms. Aravis tried not to think about where she would have to be sleeping tonight. It had been a long time since she'd had to sleep in anything other than a comfortable bed. But she'd done it before and she'd do it again.

"When you have finished your food," One of the kitchen staff, a large man with a beard that hung to the middle of his chest, called over to them, "The men will split the wood. Woman, you will do the wash. Just because you are the lady's maid," The way he said it made it seem like a bad thing, or that he did not believe it, "You will still work. The stables must also be cleaned." He gestured to the wash station, a large bin and a bucket of water.

"Yes, master." Arrosh answered, ducking his head towards the man. With one last swipe of the bowl, he finished his meal. Grethlas was not long behind him. Aravis grabbed the bowls and brought them to the wash bucket, her joints complaining at her for having her sit on the ground for her meal. How easily she had become accustomed to tall tables and chairs!

The wash bucket was piled high with the pots from cooking and dishes from the meal in the other room. With a start, Aravis realized that she'd never truly washed so many dishes. The extent of her washing had been when she was running with Hwin, Bree, and Cor, which had only been the one plate from her brother's kit.

"We'll be back, Vissa," Grethlas said, walking to the door, using the name that had been agreed upon for her, "After the wood, we'll have you help us with the stable and to set up the lodgings for the evening." He wasn't one of the ones who had a hard time not treating her like the queen. Spending his life on the decks of a ship meant he only had known one authority. The captain. It was Sir Morri who they had to worry about. He had to stop himself from trying to bow nearly every time she passed despite his injuries. It was probably for the best that when they were taking lodgings that their paths wouldn't cross often.

Eyeing the stacks of dishes, she rolled up her sleeves and started to work. Everything hurt, the lack of sleep weighing on her, but she wasn't one to shirk what needed to be done. By Aslan, though, this was quite the mess that they'd gotten themselves into. She was fortunate to even be alive.

XxX

The daylight had ceased streaming through the windows and the moon had started to rise. Not to mention, he wasn't sure how much longer he could act like some arrogant lord. How did they do it? This was exhausting. Or mayhaps it was because he'd been shipwrecked this morning and had buried his friends this afternoon. That could be part of it.

"Your service has been sufficient," Corin kept his tone just brinking on contempt, a voice he'd heard one of father's uncle's use often towards servants, "Now, show us to our rooms." Blast, he should have said room! No, he had gestured at Fesh and Morri. It should be fine.

There was Fesh to his left right now, playing the part of a mostly silent, timid wife. Wife. Thank Aslan he didn't truly have one yet. Otherwise, it would be deucedly awkward trying to explain that to her when he got home. One day, he may. But as of yet, from what he'd seen with Aravis and Cor, or even a number of his cousins, wives just meant they tried to stop you from having fun under the guise of keeping you alive. He had enough trouble with Cor trying that, he wasn't going to have another source of hindrance just yet.

"I apologize, master," The servant bowed, keeping his head low, "We are but a small village, a simple village," Ah, here was the scraping of many of the Calormene people he remembered. The man went on for a time, saying a maxim or two, and complimenting Corin, before finally getting to the crux of the issue, "We have but one room, Lord Niv." Right, he'd given a fake name. It was unlikely that anyone would know the name of himself or Aravis, but it was better to be sure.

The prince did his best to screw up his face in distaste, "Then where is it that you would suggest I put my honored man at arms?" He stressed the word honored, hoping that it would make them suddenly realize they had a second room available. Maybe he could have Fesh stay in there and the men would share a room. It would be the more proper thing to do. But how would he explain that to the servants? Surely, as they believed the two to be wed, it would seem strange for a traveling couple not to share quarters.

"Yes, yes, eh, honored guest, as the proverbs say," Evidently, he had made the man nervous, causing more bowing and scraping.

In the end, it was decided that it would be most improper for a man of Sir Morri's station to sleep in the stables with the slaves, especially with an injury, and that while none of the servants lived at the house, there was a sleeping room for the off duty guards that Morri could take advantage of. There, the village healer could properly dress his wounds. For a small sum, of course.

"So be it then," Corin scoffed, lounging back and towards Fesh, as though he were comfortable being so close to her. For her part, she sat quietly in her seat, looking down. She had done well despite her nerves. Laughing with himself and Morri, smiling as he told stories, but she was always so tense. He couldn't blame her. It wasn't rightly natural to play at what you were not.

"Right this way, master." The servant bobbed a low bow, gesturing through a door. "The guest quarters are right this way." Looking to another servant he said, "Take his honored man at arms to the quarters as soon as they have been made ready. Bring him good drink as he waits."

XxX

"Have you been under your master's service long?" Arrosh leaned against the wall with one of the servants, a young man not much older than himself, as they watched Grethlas split the wood. It wouldn't be long before Arrosh would step in and take a turn. Then it would be Bohantabi, who he was currently talking to. Since he had yet to work his way up the servant ranks, if he ever would, there was a chance that he would deem Arrosh not so far beneath him to warrant not speaking to him. From what Arrosh could tell, it was two different worlds for a slave and a free man. Yet, there was always a place where the two blurred at times.

"I'm nearing two years." Was the short answer, he glanced over at Arrosh, "You?" He was tall, lean as befitted his station, and a nose that looked like he may have ran into several walls as a child.

"Nearing three," Arrosh crossed his arms, chewing the inside of his lip some, "Was traded by a man named Zardashi. He treats his slaves well." He paused as he saw the nod of recognition from the man, "My master has actually come in search for another slave for his wife. I know Zardashi was near Zalindreh at times. Is it known if he is still there?"

The young man shook his head, giving his sparse beard an idle twist, "No. I heard he'd gone to Azro Balda, just outside of Tashbaan. My father had wanted a slave from him to keep house after his wife passed, but the trader had moved on."

"Come here, boy." Grethlas stopped his work, sweat trickling down his forehead. He'd taken his shirt off, saying it was too hot to be working in heat like this, despite it nearing the end of the day. For an older man, his back was corded with muscles he must have earned on the sea. Even the short time he had spent aboard a ship had taught Arrosh that the waters were a cruel mistress.

Arrosh nodded, trying to keep his features flat as he took in the news from the freeman. How close had he been to trying to get the party to go to Zalindreh instead of Tashbaan? Azaroth was smiling upon the venture. He must be.

Arrosh grabbed the ax from Grethlas and began. There wasn't much left to do as they'd already taken a few rotations. It felt good to be working again, an honest sweat sticking his shirt to his back. It was easier not to think. Not to think about what had been, what was, or what may be to come.

Movement caught his eye and he paused to see Aravis coming out of the cooking room. Her posture as stately as ever, hands clasped in front of her. She still seemed a queen in a costume despite her clothes having been dirtied in the wreck and now spotted with water splashes from the dishes. How did she manage it? Mayhaps it was because he knew what she was. The others didn't.

As she passed by the waiting men, moving towards the stables, Bohantabi looked her over with that type of appreciation men gave a beautiful woman before he gave a scoff and muttered something to Grethlas. Grethlas frowned for less than a second before giving a forced smile, seeming to agree with the man. She wasn't going to be popular as they traveled. Many believed slaves should stay to the shadows. Shadows practically shrank away from the queen.

XxX

"Vissa," Arrosh gave Aravis a nod of acknowledgement as she approached, "Have they set you a new task, or has Mistress Fesh called for her evening care?"

"Mistress," Aravis paused, trying to think of the right way to word what to say. It wasn't natural to pretend like this. How did Corin do it so well? Even as she had been washing the dishes, she could hear him acting out his part. He always did have the flare for the dramatic, though. "Mistress is nearing the completion of the meal. When it has finished, I will be assisting her." At her delivery, she could almost feel Arrosh sighing inwardly. Or mayhaps that just what she thought he felt, as she knew her delivery of the lie was a poor one.

Her brother merely nodded; a light sweat beaded around his forehead from his work. Unlike Grethlas and the other man, he had kept his light, long sleeve shirt on, though it was starting to cling to him in places. "That's good. Go to Grethlas, the two of you will start on the stables. I will be there shortly." The order was soft, not worded as a question or even a suggestion, but the way he said it was as if he'd never told another person what to do before in his life.

Aravis turned back to the men at the wall. The sailor had donned his shirt again and had propped himself against the wall, his long hair pulled back in tail. At her approach, he started to dislodge she opened her mouth to tell him about what Arrosh had said, the servant said something. Something that was definitely not a compliment. With effort, the queen controlled herself, holding herself a bit higher, and ignored the young man.

"Come, let us start on the stables." Grethlas gently touched her arm to lead her towards the stables.

As they walked away, the man gave a low whistle, saying something else in the Calormene tongue. Either he was insulting her or insinuating something. Whatever it was must not have been good. As they passed Arrosh, his face had turned to stone, his jaw set as he split the next log with enough force to send one of the halves skittering away.

"Come, just ignore him, highness." The sailor said, barely above a whisper, keeping a hand on her shoulder. "He's nothing."

Aravis let out a breath, taking in another, and continued on with the sailor. She would have to find out what that man had said. If only to learn how to avoid such unpleasant interactions if she could help it.

Here she was, in her country of birth. The land she grew up in! But why did it feel as though she were on an entirely different planet?

XxX

With a breath, Arroshreminded himself he was a slave. Aravis was a slave. She was not Iliz. She was an estranged sister who felt like she owed him a debt. That was all. That was what he had to tell himself.

He couldn't do anything without being punished or hindering their progress. Iliz was more important. What the man said wasn't worth that.

"Do they let you have a piece, boy?" The insufferable creature looked far too pleased with himself. It was the small things that made someone so low feel powerful.

Arrosh shook his head, "No, she's the mistress' maid," He paused, the man wouldn't believe him if he left it at that, "I wouldn't recommend touching her, sir. The master is possessive of his women. She's his." At least they wouldn't be staying here long. At a new town they could say something else. Word may spread fast, but not that fast and small details would be missed anyways.

Bohantabi nodded, thinking what Arrosh had wanted him to, "Ah, that is why she is so high and mighty."

Arrosh finished the last piece, "Yes, she has that problem. Can't beat her, though. The master doesn't like marks." It felt vile lying like this. Twisting this woman who would never do such a thing no matter what station of life she was in. "This is completed. Now I will help with the stables." With a small, shallow bow, he excused himself and headed towards the stables.

XxX

Morri settled back on the cot, gritting his teeth against the searing pain in his leg. Where his leg had been hit hadn't broken anything but weight on it was still dreadful. The break in his arm was no picnic either. If he was being honest, none of this was.

The healer, a wizen old man, back rounded with age, hadn't seemed to do much. He'd shaken some plants over the wounds, said some words in a sing song voice, and left. Not even clean bandages. A small pit wormed in the young man's stomach, he had heard far too many stories about people dying from soiled bandaging or becoming horribly ill.

"Sir?" The small voice of Zeep came from beneath the cot, before she slowly poked her head out.

"Zeep!" Morri whispered with a smile, "I am glad to see you. How is everything?" They were alone in the room, though it housed two other cots. From what he could tell, those that generally spent the evenings here would sleep elsewhere. But one never knew if another was nearby. Whispering would be best.

"I've confirmed all are safe and settled in their sleeping places. No one seems to be making any plans towards the party." That was Zeepijeet, business as usual. "The goods have a watch on them with Arrosh and Grethlas."

"Do you know," Morri started before he felt the heat rise to his face. The mention of sleeping places had set him thinking on his sister. But Prince Corin was an honorable man. It would be a disservice to him to even ask. Instead, he asked, "Have you eaten?"

"Yes, the kitchens are not well guarded."

The mouse seemed to sense his original question, she gave a small smile as only the Narnian mice were able, "The prince has sent word to assure you that all is 'well and above board' as for sleeping arrangements. They called for more blankets and a separate cot has now been made up."

Despite his relief, the young man couldn't help the burn that held his features even so, "Thank you, Zeepijeet."

The mouse gave a small bow, "Yes, sir. I'll be going to bed down nearby, if there is any trouble just shout."

A/N: Hey all! Thank you so much for the reviews and comments. I've adjusted my settings so I'm not getting as much spam so I may continue updating here.

In regards to the quality and style of the writing, I apologize. This isn't beta read and I'm merely an amateur writer doing this for fun. As for spelling, I've honestly only ever listened to the audiobooks on repeat, so I've never truly been sure how to spell any of the names. No parody intended here, as I'm not writing a comedy or spoof. Just a little ditty about a boy who never got to have his story told.

But, alas, instead of excuses, I'll just say I'm a rather lazy creature with terrible editing skills. Thank you to everyone who continues to read despite these short comings and your patience with me. I may try to be better in the future. :)