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I'VE NEVER been more grateful for the demands of chaos than I am the day of Caspian's coronation. It clears my mind, giving my hands and my body something to do and my thoughts something else to concern themselves with. All morning, I busy myself with helping decorate the hall for tonight's festivities and prepare food in the kitchens.
It's soothing to slip back into my role as a servant, despite all the shouting and the hurrying. It makes me feel like everything has gone back to the way it was — just for a while. It's also the perfect way to avoid Edmund. Until Susan finds me in the stables.
The queen hurries toward me, her skirt held high so it doesn't get soiled with dirt or horsehair. "What are you doing here?" She demands. And by the perfect curls of her brown hair and the rouge on her cheeks, I know she's just finished with her cosmetics.
"Helping with the horses," I respond, running a comb through Destrier's tangled mane.
"Well yes, I can see that." Susan looks me up and down. "When were you planning on getting yourself ready?"
I pause, my hands stilling against the stallion's neck. I can't tell her how I wish I didn't have to attend the ceremony. How I want nothing more than to stay at the palace and continue with the mindless tasks of organizing the feast and preparing dishes in the kitchens. I can't tell her that the moment I stop working all I can think of is how nothing I know feels real anymore — that I'm so terrified of seeing Edmund and telling him the truth that I can barely look at him. So I say to her, "Soon."
But she hears everything in that one word.
"Arryn." Her voice is soft as she releases her skirt, lifting her hands to grasp mine tightly. "Come on," she urges, drawing me away from grooming Caspian's horse.
Swallowing hard, I nod and drop the comb into Destrier's grooming box before following her out of the stables. I know arguing with the older girl is pointless; she always wins, somehow. Peter and Edmund swear up and down that she's some sort of diplomatic witch, but I attest it to her being the second oldest of four siblings to mediate.
The castle corridors are busier than ever with less than an hour until the ceremony, but we manage to reach Susan's room in record time. The tigers sitting guard outside her chamber stand up when we approach them, dipping into bows.
"Your highness," one of them begins. "King Caspian came to see you while you were gone."
Susan looks surprised. "He did?"
The tiger nods. "He asked we convey to you his sincerest regrets for being unable to stay and await your return."
"He also left a gift for you inside," the other one adds, smiling at the queen's fluster. "Your highness has quite the admirer."
