On another afternoon, Queen Lucy led Queen Susan and Peridan down to the beach. "I've started a seashell collection for Peter," she had explained, "and now it's just warm enough to hunt for more. Come on, it will be lovely to kick off our shoes for the first time and bury our toes in the wet sand." Peridan had laughed, because he couldn't imagine her stately sister doing any such thing.

They had been down by the water for some time, and Queen Lucy was playing like a happy child, digging industrious holes in the sand and dodging the foamy waves that washed up on the beach. Every so often she would lift up a shell, inspect it carefully, and rinse it in the water before slipping it into a pouch slung at her side. When she washed her shells she had no fear of the water, and as a result her dress was soaked from the knees down despite all her running from the waves.

As Queen Susan watched her sister skitter away from the water in another futile attempt to stay dry, she laughed. "It does me good to watch her."

"She makes the sand look so inviting. When I lived in the Lone Islands I would play on the sand like that," Peridan commented casually. A memory washed over him, some vague shadow of what his parents must have been like. He saw only little scraps: a man with a soft brown beard, a woman with a warm laugh. Then like a wave, the images were pulled under.

He felt a touch on his arm. "Lord Peridan?" Queen Susan was peering at him carefully, her brows knitted together in concern.

"I'm so sorry, your Majesty. I've lost the thread of our conversation." He accompanied his apology with a bow.

"No, please don't apologize," she said gently, stepping a bit closer, "Tell me what you were thinking of."

"Just a memory I was trying to hold on to. My parents," he glanced at her.

Her eyes grew bright and she took his hand in both of his. "I know what that's like."From the sympathy in her eyes, he had no doubt she did. "But you never had brothers, sisters, cousins?"

He shrugged. "My mother was an only child, and my father had but one brother. Uncle Kieran and Aunt Minna could never have children." He tried not to look at her; he was perilously close to committing the gross impropriety of embracing his Queen and laying his head down on her shoulder. She squeezed his hand.

Just as Peridan was looking up into her eyes, Queen Lucy shrieked with laughter and surprise and waded halfway into the water to have a conversation with a mermaid. This made Peridan and Queen Susan laugh together, the sorrow of a moment before blown away by the March wind.

"Come," Peridan said, bending to tug off his boots, "Let us follow your sister's example and forget troubles for awhile." Before she could protest, he indicated that she should lean back against a tree so he could remove her shoes for her.

"You're so chivalrous," she commented, smiling at this performance.

"Nothing but good manners," he returned, laying her shoes together neatly next to his. Then he straightened up and drew her forward by the hand. They crossed the warm, smooth sand that coated their feet in a fine layer to the stickier wet sand that made puddles where they walked and a delicious squelching, sucking sort of sound whenever they lifted their feet. The act of walking through such sand and dodging the cold waves was so engrossing that neither of them spoke, and it was a long while before they noticed how far down the beach they had come.

"We've come round the bend," Queen Susan remarked, looking up as the water receded. "You can hardly see the castle."

Peridan looked up too. "I had no idea we'd come so far," he commented. "Do you think we should turn back?"

She shook her head. "No. Not just yet. I don't…I don't really want to go back, with Ed cross as he is. I hate it when he gets in these moods. I can't seem to do anything right."

Peridan saw the distress in her face and guided her over to a flat rock where she could sit for a moment. He spread his cloak beneath her, and she gave him a thin smile of gratitude. "I shouldn't have said. You must not want to hear about family quarrels."

"I'd like to help you, if I can," Peridan said, and he found that he had been waiting to say those words for a long time, though he was thinking more about that sketch he had made of Lord Darnan than of her brother.

She shook her head. "He said that Peter needed something, and that I wasn't there—in so many words. He says I don't notice any of them anymore."

"My Queen, that is the furthest thing possible from the truth. I've never seen anyone so attentive to their family—in truth, it makes me quite jealous that I do not have a sister like you," Peridan said warmly.

She looked at him, her lips just slightly parted. Finally she laid her hand on Peridan's knee. "I may not be your sister, but I can be your friend."

He nodded, and his throat was tight with emotion when he said "I should like that very much." Without being aware of what he was doing, he let his hand cover Queen Susan's, his fingers sliding across the back of her hand before he held it tight. She turned her face to him, and her eyes were wide and the deepest blue. He could see her body stiffen with expectation.

He could so easily lean in and kiss her. He knew instinctively this was the sort of moment where such a thing happened. He knew he wanted to. No one had ever made him feel like Queen Susan did, not even Juliette. He realized he must have been very cold before coming here. And then here, away from the castle, she was no longer the Queen of Narnia, but his friend Susan. His warm, beautiful friend.

But he didn't kiss her. Some invisible wall seemed to be between the two of them, something he couldn't penetrate, even if her face was turned up to his, her lower lip just caught under her teeth. He couldn't understand it, and he found he was scared to explore this moment any further. He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss on her silky skin. The kiss was more than courtly and less than romantic, and he remained bent over her hand, waiting for the moment to pass. He didn't know or understand any of this.

Some simple sound broke the spell. It was perhaps the call of a bird or a distant shout of Queen Lucy's laughter, something gay and unfettered enough to let him lift his head and smile at her. Then he helped her off the rock and they walked back to her sister. Neither said anything more. But that night in bed, the memory of that moment came back to Peridan unbidden. He tossed under the covers and fluffed his pillow with a punch, but his violent movements could not dispel the memory or the sick, burning fluttering in his lower esophagus. It was something like shame. "Why didn't you kiss her?" a voice demanded. "Don't you want her? Don't you love her? Don't you like dark hair with fair skin? Isn't that attractive?"

Peridan pulled the pillow over his head and squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't want to think about this anymore. He didn't want to know the answers to those questions. He waited for his body to relax and sleep to take over, but it didn't. That memory and those questions just kept tossing in his head until he could bear it no longer. He sat upright. The room was too quiet, so his thoughts were too loud. He needed to occupy his mind with something else. He thought of going to his studio, but he was worried he might paint something in his head. Instead he threw on his dressing gown and went to the library, burying himself in book after book until the dawn started to seep under the heavy drawn drapes. Only then did his eyelids finally flutter shut and he found some rest.

He awoke sometime later by the sound of voices outside the library. Though he could not see the door, tucked as he was in a corner, he heard King Edmund's voice come clearer as he opened the door. "Honestly, Lu, do I look like I care that you can't find Peridan? There are a lot more important things to worry about than that today."

"But Ed, I only—"

"You only what? Haven't you done enough lately? You've practically thrown Susan in front of Peridan. Is that what you want him for? So you can play these games?"

"She likes him, Ed. He makes her happy. I would think that you'd want your own sister to be happy," Queen Lucy returned, speaking sharper than Peridan had ever heard her.

King Edmund sighed in a very adult way, as though he were a man far older than his years trying to handle an over-exuberant girl far younger than the Queen. "Lucy, honestly. You're just a child—what do you know about such things? Wouldn't it be best to leave this sort of things to the grownups?"

Peridan heard Queen Lucy make a noise of frustration, and then he heard her storm from the room with very heavy steps for a girl so small. She banged the door shut behind her.

He sank lower in his chair. Was it true, what Queen Lucy had said? He shook his head. He didn't really know what Queen Lucy had said; such speculation was useless, wasn't it? It would only cause problems. He buried himself behind his book and tried to read again when he heard a pointed cough. He looked up over the top of his book and saw King Edmund there, glaring down at him from under black brows.

"They're looking for you," he said tersely. "Don't want to be late."

Peridan raised his eyebrows, and the King glowered in response. Peridan could remember the night he sprawled over this chair. Such relaxation seemed impossible now; every muscle in King Edmund's body was tightly wound. He wasn't sure what he had done to anger the King so much, and he was afraid of the look in his eyes, as if King Edmund could see something deep inside him that he could not. "I'll go then," he murmured, pushing himself out of the chair. King Edmund stood in his way, but he did not move to let Peridan past, just stared at him, into him, with his hard black eyes.

For a moment Peridan looked into his face to see if he would give way, and found that his breath caught. He did not understand why, but he was frozen under that glare, and it was a long moment before he found the wits to skirt around King Edmund and dart out the door.

Peridan was distracted all day. After that night in the library, he thought perhaps he and King Edmund could be friends. He very much hoped that they would. But he knew that he had done something to ruin that chance, and he didn't know what it was. Just as Queen Susan seemed drawn to him—and he couldn't deny this fact—King Edmund seemed to despise him. He tried not to let it bother him, but it was hard. The King's stare was so sharp, and there seemed to be so much more to discover underneath it.

Then there was Queen Susan. How he could be simultaneously intrigued by the sharp edges of King Edmund and her softness, he didn't know. All he knew was that when she appeared during the High King's portrait sitting, he found himself smiling. She made him feel safe and warm, and less alone. And she was beautiful. If Queen Lucy was right, that he made her happy in return…what did that mean?

There was a party. Queen Susan arranged an affair for the unveiling of his portrait of King Peter. She kept it small but festive, and Peridan could hardly believe all of this was in his honor as he walked the length of the finely appointed room. All the gold gleaming on the table, all the delicacies heaping on the plates, all of this was because he had painted a picture, something that was nearly as reflexive as breathing.

True, this portrait had been harder than all his other works because he was so bent on striking the balance between man and noble king. Eventually, though, King Peter had relaxed, coaxed into it by his sisters. Thus Peridan was able to see he was not just another chivalrous knight, but an engaging man with a hearty laugh who was brimming with kindness underneath his regal exterior. In the end, the moment that influenced Peridan's portrayal of the High King's eyes and his smile was no pose. Both his sisters had assailed him at the end of one of his sittings, tickling him until he shouted with laughter. When at last they ceased, he sat up with an arm around each of them and kissed their foreheads. Then he turned to smile at Peridan, and the happiness that shone in his eyes was so honest that Peridan knew this was what he had to capture.

When everyone gathered in the Queen's gallery and she drew the sheet away, the small crowd gasped with surprise. And they applauded. They applauded him, and they raised their glass in a toast. Queen Lucy squealed with delight, and for a moment all the hardness left King Edmund's eyes as he gazed up at the portrait. His eyes sparked merrily, and he gave an impressed frown. Then King Peter stepped forward.

"My good Lord Peridan," he said warmly, "I can only hope this is half my likeness—I fear you flatter me with your talent." He grasped Peridan's forearm and clapped his shoulder.

Peridan could feel everyone's smiles, and he drew closer to Queen Susan. The group filtered away to dinner with many kind compliments, murmuring "That is exactly the look in his eyes," or "Aslan bless! That is the exact likeness of the High King!" When it was just him and Susan alone, he turned to her.

"Is it what you hoped for when you asked me to paint?" he asked tentatively.

She turned to him and took his hands in hers, squeezing them. "It's wonderful, Peridan. Absolutely wonderful. I'm…oh, Peridan, I'm so glad you're here." She leaned forward and kissed him gently on the cheek.

He closed his eyes at the touch of her kiss, and he could feel how soft her lips were on his cheek. Her hair smelled like roses, and he breathed in the scent as she leaned into him. The kiss lasted but a moment before she drew away, and he looked into her eyes, unsure of what to do. He did the only thing he could think of and offered her his arm. "Should we go in? They're waiting."

She nodded and threaded her arm through his, keeping quite close as he lead the way into the Great Hall. When they entered, many faces turned their way, and Peridan could see that they thought there was more to he and Queen Susan than artist and patron. He glanced at her sidewise from under his lashes. Certainly this was true. She was more to him than anyone had ever been.

She stayed close by him while they ate, having seated him next to her at the foot of the table. He was opposite King Edmund, and on the King's was a girl of about their age that he knew as Lady Alina. She sat very close to the King, and though he frowned at her once when she moved too close, Peridan could otherwise see very little objection in the King's face. Rather, his eyes upon her were dark, and when he turned to hear something Peridan had said, Peridan saw the tail end of this look of…well, it had to be desire, when the King's eyes lighted on his face. He shivered, but the next moment the look was gone, replaced by a scowl as Queen Susan touched Peridan's arm. After expressing his disapprobation wordlessly, King Edmund turned back to Alina, who was leaning into him.

The dancing started, and King Peter took the floor with Queen Susan while Queen Lucy ran over from her place by the High King to claim the hand of her other brother. Peridan smiled at the picture of the four of them on the dance floor, and he felt a little tug when he saw King Edmund laugh with his sister, who was explaining something to him with animation. He looked kind then, full of the same warmth as the rest of his family, and his face did not close off for the rest of the dance. But Lady Alina was not looking at his face. Peridan happened to glance at her and see in one look that she was taking in the King's lithe, graceful body. Peridan was troubled by this look, both lascivious and proprietary. No one in their right mind would think they owned a single hair on King Edmund's head. He was far too untamable. There also seemed something wanton about staring at a man with dark desire while he danced so happily with his sister, but Alina made no move to cover this. Rather, as soon as she could she got up to dance with the King, and as he guided her across the floor she moved with her body very close to his. This in Peridan's opinion made her a poor dancer. He didn't have much time to reflect on her lack of grace or lack of manners, however, for Queen Lucy came to claim his hand.

"I want to show you that I can put your lessons into practice," she said beguilingly, tugging him to his feet.

He got up with a willing laugh and took up the dance with her. She had improved, and even though Peridan had to whisper the steps to her, she was full of lively energy that forced Peridan to smile and forget his thoughts of Lady Alina. He was smiling still when the High King came to claim his youngest sister for a dance. When he turned and found Queen Susan, she was waiting for a partner as he expected. From the corner of his eyes he saw several young lords coming forward to claim her hand, and he felt a sudden jump of anxiety in his chest that they should get there before him. He hastily stepped forward to bow and ask for her hand in the dance, and he could not help but notice that the Queen flushed with pleasure as he did so.

She looked up into his face and smiled warmly, laying her hand on his shoulder as he laid his on her waist. "You are not so shy tonight, my Lord."

"I think you have brought out the best in me, my Queen," he answered. Then he spun her out and watched the graceful whirl of her silk skirts before he pulled her back in close. The smile she wore reached all the way to her eyes now, and the fluttering that she might be lost to him even for a dance was replaced with a glow of pride that he could make her happy.

They danced half the night together. Peridan only relinquished her when her brothers came for a dance, though the High King came far more often than King Edmund. In fact, he only noticed King Edmund step forward one time. He and Lady Alina had been dancing almost too close, and then Peridan lost track of them for awhile. When he saw King Edmund again, Lady Alina was no longer by his side and he was asking Queen Susan for a dance with something almost like contrition in his face.

When Queen Susan was dancing with someone else, he danced with Queen Lucy or not at all. He watched the other lords carefully, making sure to beat them to Queen Susan's side when the dance was over. Somehow, she seemed to move towards him as well, and once he noticed that she refused several gracious bows and proffered hands on her way to him. He did not even think that others would care to dance with him until he tucked himself into a corner while the four monarchs danced together in the old dance of four, the dance they led together at every party. He watched the four heads, two black and two golden, from behind his pillar, and a twitter of voices swelled over the music.

"And his eyes! I don't care what you say, Mari, he may have gorgeous hair, but his eyes."

The girl called Mari gave a despairing sigh. "Well it doesn't matter what he's got. He's talented and gorgeous and he hasn't once looked at anyone but Queen Susan."

"I do wish she'd marry so we could all have a chance at some of the men at court!"

"I know! Do you think this Lord Peridan even has a chance with the Queen?"

Peridan never heard the answer to this as the dance ended and there was a swell of applause. He clapped absently, thinking he could answer himself. The question he couldn't answer was what he himself wanted.

He felt the weight and warmth of someone sitting next to him, and he turned to see the Queen, flushed and joyful from dancing. "You're hiding again," she murmured. Queen Lucy would have made an exuberant tease out of it, but her reproach was softer, teasing but still gentle. Peridan thought her eyes were shining beautifully, a luminous blue deep as the night sky.

"You know me," he murmured, watching her from beneath his lashes.

She stroked his upper arm with the tips of her fingers, her eyes shifting from where her hand lay to his face. "I think I am beginning to."

"Your Majesty…" Peridan began, but he was unsure how to finish. Her fingertips tickled pleasantly, but he found his eyes straying to where King Edmund was by the musicians' post, picking up an instrument experimentally and running his hand over its gleaming carved wood. He smiled to himself, a little unguarded smile as he appreciated the workmanship, ran his fingers over the entire surface of the instrument, exploring it with his fingertips. Peridan could almost feel their questioning tickle. Then King Edmund cradled the little lyre close to him almost tenderly and strummed it with delicate fingers. The sound of it was lost in the bustle of the party. His eyes were downcast, and his dark eyelashes were in sharp relief on his pale cheek. Peridan was more than moved to draw him, he was drawn to him. Somehow the King looked up, as if he knew Peridan was looking at him, and he stared at Peridan for a surprised second before he frowned.

"My lord?" Queen Susan asked inquiringly, twisting to see what he had been looking at.

For some reason, he didn't want her to know what he had been looking at, and he took her gently by the shoulders and turned her back to look at him, smiling into her face. "Let me get you some refreshment, your Majesty. An ice, perhaps? Or some wine?"

She shook her head, and her eyes dilated. "I think I'm a bit tired. All the dancing… Perhaps I'll go to bed."

He knew what she wanted him to do, and he found he wanted to comply. "Would you like for me to escort you?" he asked kindly.

She nodded, and he rose and extended his hand to help her up. She led him over to her brother and sister to bid them goodnight. "Tell Ed for me, won't you? He's in a peculiar mood this evening."

The High King nodded agreement and gave Peridan another smile. "I must thank you again, Lord Peridan. I could not be more pleased."

Queen Lucy squeezed his free hand, beaming. "Yes! The painting was marvelous. We're so lucky to have you."

Peridan bowed his thanks and his goodnight, wondering if he had imagined the other blessing he thought he heard in their words. He decided not to think on it as he led Queen Susan from the room.

As they walked together down the corridors, the noise of the party faded and the castle became silent. There were a thousand thanks Peridan had to make, but neither of them spoke. This did not seem a time for talking.

They reached Queen Susan's door, and there they paused. Peridan looked at her uncertainly. The Queen was beautiful, even more beautiful in the dim light of the corridor. She was so much to him. She laid a hand on his arm, moving closer. Here was the moment. He could either step away and bow and say goodnight and thank you or…he put his hand on her waist. She drew in a sharp breath, and still she said nothing. The shape of her mouth intrigued and invited him, and the fascination was too much. He had to know. He dipped his head to kiss her, and she met his lips halfway.

She had kissed him earlier in the evening, and so he knew her lips were soft and velvety as rose petals. But to touch them with his own…she sighed against his lips, and her breath fluttered against him. She felt every inch as beautiful as she looked, a beauty that made Peridan's heart ache.

The chivalrous thing would be to kiss her and say goodnight. Walk away. He knew his manners. But instead he stammered, "Queen Susan…"

"Yes, Lord Peridan?" her voice was barely above a breath.

"I…What…what comes next?"

She bit her lip, her eyes still trained on his face, and backed away toward the door. She reached behind her and pushed the door open. "Whatever you would like," she said shakily.

He could go. He knew he should go. There was a passion in her eyes, her pupils so wide her eyes were black as her brother's. Her passion is not hard or sharp, he thought. She is so warm and soft and beautiful. He could go, but he would be cold and lonely in his room.

Then she tickled his palm with the tips of her fingers, interlacing their hands. He let this decide for him, and he followed her inside.

Her room was lit with dozens of candles and full of fragrant white roses. He walked over to a vase full of these and plucked off a petal, rubbing it between his fingers and saying softly, "These remind me of you."

"Oh…the roses? They do?"

He turned to her, nodding. "The petals are soft, and they're so delicate," he murmured as if in a dream. He pressed the petal in his hand to her cheek, watching amazed as she closed her eyes and sighed. Then she turned her lips into his wrist and kissed him there. "Oh, your Majesty," he breathed, bending to kiss her other cheek.

She left off kissing his wrist and turned her face into his so that they were kissing again. She parted her lips against his mouth and touched her tongue to his lips. The ticklish sensation was so pleasant that he opened his mouth and touched his tongue to hers.

He didn't know how long they kissed. It could have been minutes, and it could have been hours. Her softness was so alluring that Peridan didn't want to stop. He didn't want to think.

She drew away and asked "Have you done this before?"

He shook his head no.

"Me either," she whispered, biting her lip. She stroked his chest with her fingertips. "But I want to. Peridan, I—"

"Shh," he murmured. He cupped her chin and brushed his thumb over her lower lip, feeling its velvet softness. She raised her hands to the ribbon lacing at the front of her dress.

He drew in an expectant breath. He wanted to see her. Was her body as beautiful as her face? Was her skin as soft? How graceful was her form? He longed to know. His fascination was such that he didn't even stop to think he should touch her, or kiss her. He only watched her with his keen artist's eye. Her hands trembled ever so slightly, but then she pushed her bodice away, and Peridan nearly gasped. "Oh…your Majesty," he breathed. Without thinking, he reached out a hand to touch her creamy skin. She nodded, and he let his fingers explore her, drawing her close. One hand was on her soft skin and the other he let stroke her inky black hair, thinking feverishly that her skin was like the moon and her curtain of hair like the night. He wanted to be a sculptor to find a way to shape this.

She closed her eyes and titled her head back as he touched her, sighing with desire. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing close to him and kissing his neck, brushing her lips along his skin. But he didn't want her to kiss him. He wanted to see her. He took a step towards the bed and she guided him the rest of the way, then lay herself down and reached up for him, calling him by name.

He stretched out beside her, kissing her softly. Then he dared to finger the ties on her skirt. She looked up at him, stroking his jaw with her fingertips. Trembling, he pulled her skirt away and took in her body.

She was achingly, exquisitely beautiful, and he took her in with a small gasp. "Oh…Queen Susan…I never…" he breathed. She looked down at herself, then up at him, seeking his approval. He kissed her stomach, right at the smooth dip where her belly button was. His kiss was dry and warm. She sighed, though, and she wound her fingers through his hair, moving underneath him. Why that made him uncomfortable…he couldn't move his kisses up or down, so he pressed another kiss to her navel.

She understood something of his hesitation, for she murmured "Shh," and drew his tunic over his head. She swept her eyes over him, and they dilated. She looked into his eyes and bit her lip, and then she started to pull at the lacing of his breeches.

He didn't know what was supposed to happen when she took him in her hand. The physical sensation of it was strange, tantalizing, a tug at something deeper inside him. He closed his eyes and, entirely unbidden he saw King Edmund in his mind's eye, stroking him as he strummed that lyre. Then something jumped alive within him, and he too moved and let out a shaky breath of desire. He didn't know if the picture in his head or Queen Susan's gentle caress was what caused the change, but he banished the former as quickly as he could. This was what he wanted.

She touched his cheek with her other hand. When he opened his eyes, Peridan saw that she had caught her lower lip with her teeth and he liquid blue eyes were searching his face for approval. She breathed deep with desire, but there was also some fragile fear in her face. He wanted to make that go away. He drew her to him and kissed her again, pressing himself close to her. Her arms closed tight around him in something that was not quite a clasp but stronger than an embrace. She stroked his back, and he let his hands run over the smooth landscape of her skin and they kissed for ages, slipping into slumber somewhere in the small hours, still entwined together.