I have an oath

My dear, brave Marian,

This was made for me on my coronation day, as a reminder to never lose hope.  I pass it to you.

Remember that there is a Lion, and that he loves you. When he returns, there will be great good again. Remember that.

And that nothing you love is ever, ever lost.

Be well, my dear friend.

Caspian

Enclosed are two items: a leatherbound book with the careful, handwritten title: Being a Record of the Journey of Caspian the Seafarer to the East, and a heavy object she has seen before, on his hand; a large ring made of gold on which a lion roars.

 It's a rather lovely day in Ambergeldar.  Perhaps a bit hot, and the flowers he wanders past in the garden a bit dry, but the sky is a sunny bowl of blue and the wind is cool against his face, and he is so pleased to be here that he puts his hands in his pockets and whistles a bit as he walks.

It hadn't been hard to convince Marta to let him take Merry out for playtime; he'd pointed out, truthfully, that he hasn't yet had enough time with the boy to make up for the years missed, so he'd spent a delightful morning talking with his nephew and building unrefined but surprisingly sturdy fortresses out of blocks, and going to the orchard to see if any apples were ripe (they weren't, but that didn't stop them looking).

But he'd taken Merry back to the nursery a few moments ago, smiling at the weight of a sleepy head on his shoulder and at the way his nephew curled into himself when he was laid carefully down in bed.  Now, there isn't anything for him to do, in particular, until Amy is free, and he'd assured her he can take care of himself.  

Perhaps if he had a three-volume novel, he might sit for a while and read; as it is, he finds himself wandering through the gardens, looking with faint interest at the blooming flowers.  They're quite pretty, though hardly anything he knows anything about.