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CASPIAN ARRANGES a breakfast for the six of us on the morning of Aslan's ceremony, even though we're all going down to the river later for lunch. I don't think anyone minds the extra time spent together. It feels like the first time we've been able to relax in days, and on such a beautiful morning, no less. Unfortunately, we're all in a bit of a hurry to eat and return to our rooms, as we all managed to sleep in far later than expected.
Last night's party kept everyone up long into the night, dancing and talking and the likes. A number of Narnians returned to the camp outside the village after the fireworks, but some stayed and kept the festivities going. As promised, Edmund and I danced many more times together before retiring to our rooms. So it's no surprise when the six of us turn up for breakfast sluggish and yawning.
I immediately make myself a cup of quiras, grabbing the attention of Edmund, who sits beside me. He watches me pour the dark liquid like it's some sort of poison.
"Is that coffee?" He asks.
I narrow my eyes at him, setting the pot back in the middle of the table. "What is that?"
Lucy giggles as she sips her tea, listening to our conversation while Caspian and Peter chat about Cair Paravel's reconstruction.
"It's a drink made from roasted coffee beans," Edmund explains. "It's just something we have in London."
"Yes, but it's dreadful," Susan adds with a look of disdain, prompting her sister to nod in agreement.
I smile and mix in steamed milk. "Well, this is called quiras; it's from Telmar. I have no idea how similar it is to coffee." All I know is that the strong, slightly bitter taste of it helps to wake me up, the scalding temperature warming my fingers and toes in the winter season.
"It smells almost the same," Edmund notes.
I try not to laugh at the siblings' obvious disgust. "You can try it," I offer.
He shakes his head, leaning forward to grab a slice of toasted bread. "Thanks, but I'm alright with tea."
Shrugging, I take a careful sip of my steaming drink. I usually don't have it often, but today I'm desperate for the extra energy. If I start falling asleep during the ceremony, I'll be mortified with myself.
Conversation switches to the picnic Lucy and I have planned — what sort of food we're packing and how in the world we're going to get everything down the cliff to the river. To my surprise, Peter seems to be the one most excited about it. Without the war, the High King is turning out to be almost an entirely different person.
Edmund ends up giving in to his curiosity and tries some of my quiras, which he immediately hates, and reports that it is, in fact, very different from coffee in London.
