"One of the loveliest coastlines that I've ever seen!" Thedal exclaimed as we neared the island.

Sir Gwalter shook his head in awe. "I haven't seen it since I was a boy. My father was a tradesman from Archenland and took me on his travels in hopes that I would continue the family business." He winked down at me. "Clearly, that didn't pan out as he planned."

"I've seen better," Sir Terrin muttered grouchily as he peeled an apple.

Gwalter smoothed a scarred hand over his scalp with a chuckle. "But you were the one who said there was nowhere lovelier only a couple years ago?"

"Changed my mind," he groused, crunching into his apple and stomping away.

I had been around them long enough to surmise that Gwalter saw things as glass half full while Terrin was a half empty kind of guy.

"Well, I agree with you two," I breathed, turning to look towards Terenbinthia once again.

Dramatic, sheer cliffs rose up bone white from the frothing waves. They plateaued across swaying fields of gray-green seagrass. As we rounded the western edge of the island, a tower of white stone appeared over the hills leading down to a sprawling castle, hedged by a town of fine stone buildings all cozy in a protected inlet. A busy harbor buzzed with little fishing boats fluttering brightly colored sails. Friendly cottages and herds of sheep dotted the crests of countryside.

"I am sorry that you cannot go ashore, Tabitha," Thedal murmured, eyes still on the island.

I shrugged. King Peter had knocked on my chamber door the previous evening to inform me of the plans for our island trip. He remained at the threshold, hands behind his back, and smile forced. After bobbing a curtsey, I stiffly mirrored his formal manner.

He'd said that he and his brother, along with most of his knights and Thedal, would be going ashore to meet the royal family of the island sovereignty. I was to remain on ship along with Brisa. He did not explain why, but I got the distinct impression that it was to placate King Edmund's concerns. His brother still hadn't acknowledged my presence, though I curtseyed with my head bowed whenever he passed.

I had brushed it off, ignoring the nagging jealousy that King Peter was to meet the princess of Terenbinthia. It didn't matter. None of that had anything to do with me.

But Brisa's golden pocketwatch... that was another story.

The absence of the royals and their knights for the evening was perfect. They wouldn't be returning to the ships still later, after dark. It would give us just enough time.

I was not without my concerns though. The only thing driving me through my fear of the unknown was Brisa's unbounded enthusiasm.

"And you'll be waiting?" She said after eating our midday tea in my chamber.

I swallowed a dry bite of biscuit. "Yes... perhaps we should-"

"You said yourself this was the best way to do it! You aren't getting scared on me, are you?"

I gazed out towards the island. We were moored outside the harbor. Little fishing boats from the city dipped in and out between us. They would be perfect cover if anyone saw us. It would be assumed that our pilfered lifeboat from the Agincourt was just a local fisherman out for an evening sail to sightsee the Narnian fleet. It made sense.

"I'm sorry... of course, it's the best way. I'm just... hesitant."

"Well, stop hesitating," she huffed. "It doesn't matter if you know where the path leads. You hesitate and your life will pass you by."

Sunset painted the cliffs a soft shade of pink. I watched from the windows of my cabin, a step back where I couldn't be spotted, as the kings of Narnia and their men rowed to shore. King Peter's golden head, crowned for the first time since I'd met him, swiveled to look towards my windows. I told myself I was imagining things and dropped back further out of sight.

All got quiet out on deck as night fell. The remaining knights were playing cards down in the hold. A soft knock came at my door. It was Brisa. The time had come.

Hoods pulled over our heads against the cool sea mist, we crept towards the edge of the deck. The sailors had left a lifeboat lowered halfway to the water. Brisa crawled over the railing then climbed down the side. She landed softly in the boat. It swayed, but didn't bang the side of the ship. She lifted a hand, beckoning me down.

Gripping the railing, I nearly hissed at her to get back up on deck. If we were caught, King Edmund might think his suspicions were confirmed. He thought we were thieves or spies. What would I tell him? Could I spin more lies to King Peter? I didn't know if I had the heart to do that again.

"Come. On." Brisa's whisper was hoarse with frustration.

I remembered holding the envelope from my last master's program attempt in my hands. I'd never opened it. For all I knew, it was still sitting there behind the register of the Emporium. This was the same kind of moment, except I was about to launch myself over the side of a ship into the darkness with water sloshing beneath me.

"Stop thinking and just do it," Brisa hissed.

So I did. Swinging my legs up over the railing, I lowered myself down the side towards the lifeboat. Brisa helped guide me down. I dropped down onto her and she gave an audible grunt as I landed on her. We froze as the boat creaked, swinging back and forth.

The muffled voices of the knights playing dice paused. My nervous brain ticked through excuses that we could give if they found us. After a breathless moment, their laughter resumed along with declarations of the dice thrower cheating. Brisa relaxed with a hushed round of hysterical giggles.

We unreeled the lifeboat the rest of the way and took up the oars, steering in the direction of the Battle of Hastings. Squinting in the reflected moonlight against the waves, I spied an open porthole and waved towards it. Brisa nodded and we stopped under the window.

The seas were calm, enabling me to hitch her up into it. She slid herself through. I tossed up a lead rope tied to our boat after she popped into view. Then I leaped towards the window. I caught the edge after the second attempt and Brisa grabbed my hands. I shimmied in, a less graceful effort than nimble Brisa.

We had thankfully chosen the right porthole into a storage room, packed with pine boxes. The rounded door was closed. I cracked it open and peeked into the corridor.

More knights had been left on the Battle of Hastings, as that was where the captured pirates were being held. Hooves clopped down the shadowy hall and I pulled the door closed as a faun in armor trotted by. Oblivious, he hopped up onto the next deck level by a ladder. From the clatter of hooves and footsteps overhead, I guessed most of the knights were above us.

Crooking a finger to Brisa, I led us out into the ship.

"I think the brig is below us," Brisa whispered.

"There might be a guard on duty."

"What if that faun was the guard?"

I shrugged. "I suppose we'll just have to find out."

We were in too deep now. There was only moving forward. Besides, with the adrenaline rush, I strangely found myself having fun. Biting back a ridiculous smile, I followed Brisa down a ladder into the belly of the ship.

A flickering candle with a plate of crumbs from someone's supper was seated in the dark beside a padlocked cell. Hunched figures moved in the black. I cringed. It looked too much like the night I had spent on the slaver ship.

"Psst!" Brisa stepped forward, undaunted by the fact that it was a cell full of murderous pirates. "Hello?" She knocked against a bar while I fidgeted behind her, keeping an eye on the ladder behind me. "Can any of you talk in there?"

One of the bodies grumbled, rising slowly to his feet. He was tall and broad, the same build as King Peter. As he came into the light, I recognized him as the man that had fought against Sir Terrin. His jaw was still swollen from the hit he'd taken from King Peter. Otherwise, his features were strong and handsome, his eyes dark brown, and thick hair as curly as mine.

Brisa gasped a little where she stood in front of him, separated by the bars. She peered up into his face. His mouth was pulled tight in irritation, but gaze inquisitive.

"What do you want?" he snapped.

"Do you have a tattoo?"

He scoffed. "What?"

"Do you have a tattoo of a bull's head? On your neck?"

Lowering his inky eyebrows, he glared at Brisa. The girl, though she was half his size, didn't move.

"What's it to you?"

She bounced on the balls of her feet. "Just answer the question."

Shifting his gaze to me, I wilted under his stare and looked away. "We just need to ask you some questions. Do you have the tattoo?"

Reluctantly, he lifted his chin. On the side of his muscled throat, right below a pierced ear, was the crude outline of a bull's head. Brisa quickly dug out her necklace and held the watch to the light.

"Are you him?" she demanded. "Is this yours?"

Wetting his lips, his face relaxed into awe. "Where did you get that?"

"A man who visited my mother once in the dead of night brought it with him. He gave it to me. I was really little." Her voice cracked and she stepped forward, gripping the bar. "Are you- are you him?"

"Are you Osanna's girl?"

"Yes, yes. I am." Brisa began to cry. "Are you my father?"

The man wrapped his large hand over her's on the bar, his scruffy jaw dropping. "How is it that you're here?"

"You are my father," she proclaimed. "I knew it."

"Where is your mother?"

"Dead. Fever." Brisa wiped at her damp cheeks. "What's your name?"

"They called me Aban," he stated.

"Aban," I stepped forward, feeling the press for time. "Where did you get that pocketwatch?"

He blinked up at me, his eyes glazed with shocked tears. "The necklace? It... it was found on me when I was a child. I don't remember much, but I think my mother gave it to me. I was very small."

"Your mother?" I said, ushering in a moment of stunned silence. "How old are you?"

"34 years old, I think. I was about three when they found me, but they never knew for sure. I was found on the shores of Avra by the caves."

Before I had the chance to process what he'd just told me, the clatter of hooves overhead made us freeze. The faun on duty was returning. I grabbed Brisa and yanked her with me into the shadows, pressing our backs against the far wall. Aban slunk away.

The faun slid down into the hold. "I thought I told you all to stay silent!Who was talking?" He strode to the bars and banged on them with the blade of a short knife. "Well? Is someone going to speak up now?"

A low, weak chuckle rumbled out of the far corner of the cell. Shoving sloppily past Aban, the pirate that I had wounded came into the weak light. His arm was bandaged, but his face was pasty with fever. I wondered if the wound was infected.

"Oh. It wasn't us, your greatness," he mocked in a gravelly voice. He waved to where Brisa and I were concealed by shadows. "It was them two ladies. One of them slit my arm open. I would be much obliged if you threw them in with us, they was asking curious questions. I do believe they might be Calormen or Telmarine spies."