PROLOGUE
The coronation had been an affair of much celebration, heralded by the customary dances. In her dress of ruby red, Rose felt awkward and insecure as she watched the others dancing and laughing. She was only fourteen years old, yet there was so much the Narnians expected of her. She felt as though she bore the weight of the world on her shoulders, while others were content to let themselves go. It didn't matter for the Pevensies. They were Kings and Queens of Narnia. Their job to fulfill the prophecy was over – but Rose's was only just beginning.
There was another who was not interested in dancing, apparently observing the décor. The Just King stood to the side, the shadow of a smile crossing his lips as he watched his brother and sisters, caught up in the jubilant air of the celebrations, enthralled by the dancing. He caught Rose's eye, and crossed the room to stand beside her.
"You don't seem to be enjoying yourself," she pointed out, a little accusingly.
Edmund shook his head as Lucy twirled past them with Mr Tumnus, laughing freely as if she didn't have a care in the world. While the others loosened up, Edmund was all seriousness. Rose had almost forgotten that aspect of his personality.
"Come out to the balcony with me," Edmund stated, "The music is quite loud and I need a bit of fresh air."
Fresh air? Coming from Edmund? He'd been the one to tell Susan that it wasn't like there wasn't air inside. However, Rose didn't want to ruin the light mood of the party, and so she accompanied Edmund out to the balcony. No one stood there except them, and as the stars twinkled over the oceans of Cair Paravel, they stood there in silence.
Rose snuck a glance at her friend, and was astonished at how…well, lonely he looked. This was a time of celebration. The White Witch had been destroyed, and he was now officially a King of Narnia. Wasn't this what he had wanted? She hated seeing him so melancholy, and so she rested a hand on his shoulder. He turned to glance sharply at her.
"What's wrong?" she inquired, her hazel eyes begging to know, "I don't want to press you, but…you seem unhappy. Is there anything I can do to help?"
Edmund turned away, refusing to look at her. "No."
His one-syllable answer wasn't good enough for Rose. What was that supposed to mean? No, he wasn't unhappy; or no, she couldn't do anything to help him? She continued to gaze at him in askance, wishing with all her might that he would just look at her. She wanted to rage at him, but she knew how immature that would look. Immaturity wasn't something she could afford to have if she was supposed to be the Protector of the Kings and Queens.
"No, what?" she persisted.
Edmund sighed, and finally – thankfully – his dark eyes locked with her hazel ones. He had matured much since he had learned the truth about the White Witch, and Rose guessed that he had become a stronger person because of it.
"Look, don't worry about it, Rose. It's not something I can't sort out in my own time."
She had been brushed away, and she felt hurt and rejected. She was supposed to be his best friend, yet he wouldn't let her help him. She felt so helpless, just standing there unable to do anything to ease his inner sadness. If he wouldn't let her in, then what did he expect from her?
"You don't like to dance," Edmund changed the subject abruptly, "You watch the others, but you won't join in."
"Neither will you," retorted Rose defensively, but she wasn't in the mood to get into an argument with Edmund, "And in my defense, I'm tired and I don't really feel like dancing."
This made the Just King fall silent again, and retreat back into the recesses of his thoughts. It annoyed Rose to no end when he did this, when he failed to pay attention to what was real and right in front of him, and instead insisted on reminiscing on the past…or perhaps the future.
"Peter's been hanging out all night to ask you to dance," Edmund said bleakly, glancing over at his older brother who was currently dancing jovially with Susan, who was half-laughing, half-protesting.
Rose didn't look like she believed him. She raised an eyebrow as she too observed Peter, however she had a smile on her face when she did.
"Really? Then why hasn't he?"
Edmund shrugged, although he knew the answer all too well. Rose knew it, too – but sometimes love made people blind, and perhaps she didn't see the answer that was right in front of her. Peter would ask any girl in the room to dance, except for Rose.
"You intimidate him, I suppose."
"Come off it," laughed Rose, turning back to face Edmund, "Me, intimidate Peter? He hardly seems the type who would daunted by a fourteen-year-old girl. He's probably worried I would step on his feet, or the other way around."
Edmund shook his head. "Think what you like. I can tell he wanted to dance with you."
There was silence between them, and Edmund forced himself to keep his gaze away from Rose as she glanced at Peter with rapture. He felt a pang of jealousy, and ignored it. He deserved this. He had betrayed Rose and the others, and so he had come to realise that Peter deserved Rose more than Edmund ever did.
"Well, why don't we?"
Rose looked surprised, and she glanced at him as if he'd just suggested he had seen the White Witch skipping along the sand in a tutu.
"Come again?"
Edmund flushed, and was glad that the dim light wouldn't enable Rose to see the colour in his freckled face. He shrugged his shoulders awkwardly.
"Why don't we dance?"
Comprehension dawned on Rose's face, and she offered Edmund a shy smile.
"Oh…well, that seems to be a nice idea, Edmund. The best you've had all night, as a matter of fact."
Edmund felt awkward and clumsy as he moved closer to Rose, and he allowed himself to revel in the feeling as he put one arm around the girl's waist, and the other clasped her hand. He took her in: her smell, like sea salt…her flushed cheeks…he was close enough to see the glitter that coated her eyelashes…
No. He was a King of Narnia, and he would not surrender to his emotions, despite the fact that it was killing him inside. Rose was in love with Peter, who loved her back. They were happy together, and he would not jeopardize this. Not when he had nearly cost them all so much.
Rose visibly relaxed, resting her head on Edmund's shoulder. It was because she was tired, he told himself – but secretly he was hoping it meant so much more. He hated himself for wanting her, when he knew she belonged to Peter.
This dance meant nothing, but to Edmund it meant the world. He didn't usually dance, and he didn't think he would have if not for Rose. She had closed her eyes and now her head was nestled comfortably on his shoulder as they moved slowly back and forth. Edmund felt like he was flying.
Only one person saw them on the balcony, dancing amidst the glittering stars. Lucy might have been young and naïve, but even she was old enough to know what she saw. Edmund held Rose in his arms, looking more content than she had ever seen him. Rose's eyes were closed and if Lucy hadn't known any better, she would have guessed Rose might have drifted off to sleep. They were dancing, and Lucy watched them for a moment.
What she saw somehow troubled her. Edmund was in love with Rose. That much was obvious. However, Rose and Peter were now in a relationship, one made all the more difficult because of their three-year age gap and Rose's tender age.
It was only a dance, though. Edmund and Rose were best friends, just like Rose was best friends with her and Susan. They had known each other since they were young. Of course it was just a dance.
But Lucy had no idea of the events yet to come. She didn't know that the Golden Age wouldn't be nearly so brilliant as its name suggested. For during this time, Narnia had to be protected not by the Kings and Queens, but from them.
