"Ettinsmoor? Is that what we're calling it now?" Imira asked.
"Better than 'the northern lands the Ettins inhabit' don't you think?" Peter asked in return.
"I suppose it's catchy," she agreed. "So what do we do now?"
Peter looked around the room...
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IMIRA
"Eternally grateful, my arse," I mutter under my breath. Had Danielle really been eternally grateful, she wouldn't have meddled with my cousin's mind. That vindictive little-
"What's that?" Peter asks, pulling me back to reality.
I shake my head trying to rid it of the bitterness. "I was just thinking about that day I saved her," I sigh at the memory. "I should've just let her drown,"
"That wouldn't have been right," he says putting on his crown before the mirror.
"Would have saved us from a great deal of trouble," I point out. "Dean said he wished I'd never saved her,"
"Your cousin Dean is a little extreme," he turns to face me.
Yes, he is sometimes. A smile spreads across my face. "He really got on Susan's nerves, didn't he?"
"You think?" he laughs. "I'd never seen her get that upset at someone,"
"I didn't even know she could get that upset,"
We share a laugh but his smile fades before he speaks again.
"What about you? Are you upset?"
I shake my head just enough to get my point across. Shaking one's head vehemently when wearing a crown is not advised.
"I just want to get this over with," I stand up tiredly. "There's nothing more tedious than a trial,"
"Oh, I have a feeling this trial will be anything but tedious. Speaking of the trial, you can't afford to lose control of your-"
Emotions. I know. It's not like it's the first time I've heard it. Edmund said it yesterday, Susan said it, even James (the little traitor) said it. As if I didn't already know. "I know, I know. I'll keep it simple and stick to the facts,"
The places a hand on my shoulder. "All the evidence is against her. It will be over soon enough,"
"Can't wait,"
He smirks at my comment, but before he can say anything, someone knocks at our door. One of our servants goes to open as we straighten ourselves up. Henry walks is.
"It is time, Your Majesties," he announces very seriously, first looking at Peter and then setting his sight on me.
I nod, Peter thanks him, and he leaves with a small bow.
"Are you ready?" Peter asks facing me once more.
"How do I look?" I ask, brushing imaginary dust off my skirt.
"Perfect," he says with a heartmelting smile. "As always,"
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