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THE PEVENSIES quickly get to their feet, a muttered curse falling from Peter's lips as he buckles his sword belt on.
"I was hoping to wait until tomorrow before we started planning a war," Susan says dryly, brushing the dust from her dress as she follows her older brother out of the war room. I step back, allowing the three eldest siblings to exit in front of me before trailing behind with Lucy.
Head tilted, the young queen looks up at me with questioning blue eyes as we descend the carved stone staircase. "Where have you been?" She asks, her voice curious.
"Making arrows," I reply, stretching out my cramped fingers. "After three days of travel, I thought you'd all appreciate a break from me."
"I could've used a few more hours of peace," Edmund jokes over his shoulder.
"Oh, don't listen to him," Lucy declares, waving off her brother's teasing. "We've missed you. Will you be at the meeting?"
"Yes," I laugh. "We have to make sure these boys don't decide on anything too foolish, don't we?"
"Absolutely," Susan agrees, making Lucy giggle.
Peter shoots us all accusatory stares from his place at the front of the group. "Have some faith, would you," he mutters. "I have a plan."
I pray to Aslan and all the stars that Caspian will approve of it.
We reach the main chamber and head straight into the tunnel leading to the Stone Table. Hoofsteps and low voices echo against the stone walls, growing louder the closer we get to the end. I can hear more Narnians entering the tunnel behind us, claws and hooves and boots clopping and clicking against the ground. I grip the hilt of my sword tighter, nervous for the outcome of this meeting. I have a terrible feeling having two, teenage boys unwilling to compromise in the same room will not end well. Peter returned to Narnia expecting everything to be the same — to be the undisputed High King — and Caspian is not the sort of person to step down and take orders from someone else, especially now: fighting for his rightful place on the throne. There's bound to be friction between the two of them. I can only hope and pray that it won't be the cause of our downfall.
When we reach the Stone Table, the chamber is already full of chattering Narnians, waiting to hear whatever reason their prince has gathered them. Most of the faces in here I recognize from my days spent in the woods, learning from my many teachers and friends. One especially is Thrisnon, who's perched atop a large stone pedestal with his wings tucked in and his tail swishing through the air. The gryphon's sharp eyes come to rest on me, ears perking up in interest.
"Arryn," he greets merrily. "I'm glad to see you well."
A wide, excited grin forms on my face. "It's good to have you back, Thris."
