Here's chapter three:
Supper was held in a dining room that was smaller than the one she'd seen earlier, but just as grand. This one had an air of comfort and homeliness to it though. Caspian and Edmund were already sitting at the table, and Celia and Lucy took their seats opposite them.
Caspian smiled cheerfully at Celia as she entered, and she returned it. Edmund gave her a half-smile and a nod, his eyes still appraising her in that uncomfortable way. She was very aware of all the attention on her.
"I'm starving. Help yourself," Lucy added as she immediately reached for the dish closest to her and heaped it onto her plate. It was interesting. The Pevensies served themselves and ate privately, and judging by how Lucy was behaving, saved politeness and manners for more formal occasions. That certainly made things easier. She didn't have to worry about how to eat.
As the aroma of whatever they were eating surrounded her, Celia suddenly realized how ravenous she was. She too piled some sort of mystery meat onto her plate, and scooped some gravy into a bowl. She didn't care what she was eating or how – she was devouring it.
She looked up after a while to see Edmund and Caspian too, doing the same. It was a comfortable silence they had between them. She reached for the ladle to start on her seconds, and Lucy said, "I take it you've taken a liking to Narnian food?"
"Oh yes. Whatever it is, I love it,"
The group laughed and the next question was from Caspian.
"What was that…that thing you were holding when you first entered here? You said something about a signal…what was that all about?"
Celia wondered briefly how to explain a smart phone to a man who barely knew what a car was.
"That was a sort of telephone." She looked at Lucy and Edmund for help. "A telephone is a device that you use to talk to people who you can't meet. When it makes a ringing sound, you pick up the receiver and hear their voices. Your telephone also has it's own number and when people dial…well, type that number on their telephones, they'll be calling you and you'll pick up and talk to them. That way people can talk to other people through telephones."
Caspian looked a little confused, but he nodded.
"What I had is a tiny telephone, or a cell phone, that fits in my pocket. I can call people through it and they can call me back. They can also write messages to me and I can write back, and you can listen to music and play games and take pictures too…"
Caspian looked awestruck. Celia couldn't help but smile.
"Maybe I'll show it to you sometime." She said. "That would be amazing!" Caspian said, and Edmund agreed, "I too would like to see this device, it seems most fascinating."
"Could you tell us a little bit about yourself?" asked Edmund. She looked at him and all she could see was curiosity. She guessed, however, that letting her talk about herself would also be a good way to find out if there was anything that could be potentially harmful about her. Plus, it would give him more insight into her character, which he could use to his advantage to pull her strings.
She couldn't say no. That would be rude. But thinking of her life back home still gave her heartache.
"Of course," she said, smiling slightly and bowing her head a little bit (the smile made her look excited and/or flattered, and that, combined with the bowing of the head, showed that she'd be honored, and felt humbled.)
Keeping her expression neutral, Celia began,
"Well, as you know, I'm Celia Longburn. I was born in the United States of America, in New York City. My father works for the American Foreign Service, mainly dealing with countries that the U.S has conflict with, to help find peaceful solutions and relief for the people in those countries damaged by war. My mother was a nurse. (She noticed that Edmund was paying rapt attention to her now, and she knew that he had especially registered the use of the word was. He was probably now profiling that the fact that she was talking about a deceased member of the family could mean that she was opening up – something that she wanted him to think.) My mother died when I was eight years old, in a terrorist attack." She was proud that her voice still remained at the exact tone as before.
"We moved around a lot because of my father's job, due to which I got to see many new cultures. I go to University now, and am in my third year of my Bachelor's degree (Caspian still looked confused, Edmund thoughtful and Lucy attentive). It was in this year that I applied to be an intern at the United Nations."
Seeing Caspian's face, she added: "It's an international organization that works towards world peace and achieving economic, social and political stability everywhere. An intern is a person, usually a student, who just newly joined an organization and isn't entirely part of it yet but is working with it. So anyway, I got the internship, and I've been travelling around a lot to various countries to discuss ways for world peace, to put it simply. I was on the way to one such discussion when my plane crashed and I ended up here."
"Plane?" this was from Caspian. Luckily for Celia, though, Edmund and Lucy filled in about what a plane was. Their version of airplanes seemed so outdated.
"You do have an interesting life," Lucy said.
"I'd ask you to tell me about yours, but it seems like you already told me most of it," she laughed.
Edmund had turned to Caspian, and was addressing him seriously.
"…Darin, a small nation south of even Calormene, has offered us a trade partnership in fine cloth materials and weapons. I'm worried about how they make these materials, though. The offer is great, but it seems…"
"Ed, do stop about work already," Lucy whined. "As if I haven't had enough of it. Must we make it a matter of discussion even at supper?"
"Lucy, this is important – and it's not as if you do any work at all anyway. You run off after court to Beaver's dam and play with the rabbits near the hedge, we all know it."
"I was solving a conflict!" Lucy protested weakly. Edmund scoffed, but in good humor. "Indeed. Because a pair of rabbits can't sort out a conflict by themselves – Queen Lucy the Valiant must appear to solve their problems about who eats how many carrots!" His tone was light, playful. She can tell that he was letting himself go, having fun. She observed him discreetly, trying to find out more about his personality. It may just come in useful someday.
The two siblings stopped arguing, and Edmund smiled reluctantly before shoving some food into his mouth. Lucy looked over at Celia and grinned mischievously.
After dinner, Lucy excused herself, saying she had to go do something important ("Yes, like brushing her teeth," Edmund smirked.) so Celia was left alone with Caspian and Edmund. She felt rather awkward standing there with them not knowing what to do, so she said,
"Um…do you know where the library here is? (She'd seen in before but getting there was another story) I'd like to check out the books here, if there are any in English?"
"There are many books in English, since we've had a lot translated when we got here. We can show you to the library, if you'd like."
"Er-actually, I think I still have some work left to finish off. I must go do it and then I'll be off to bed. Goodnight!" Caspian said in a hurry and Celia burst into laughter.
"You don't have any work either, Caspian, since I do it all for you!" Edmund yelled to him. He simply dashed away, but not before playfully scuffing Edmund's ears and giving Celia a wink.
"That man. Goodness knows how he became King. He barely knows how to read!" Edmund said with a grin. It was nice, Celia thought, that the three of them were so close and affectionate with each other. She'd always grown up lonely, surrounded by adults.
"The library's this way." Edmund started walking, and she fell into step beside him. She tried to remember the way, but gave up after the fourth stairwell.
"Don't you ever get lost here?" she asked in exasperation. He laughed. "Not anymore, but when we first started living here, one of us was always late for court because we'd get lost on the way. It was terribly embarrassing."
She smiled. After what seemed to be an age, they reached the library. It was a beautiful room, that seemed to go on forever (like the rest of this freaking place) and the walls and passages were stacked with shelves full of books, from the floor up to the ceiling. She wondered how many years it would take to read all the books in this library.
They passed by comfy looking armchairs and a roaring fireplace. There was a plush sofa set with a table in the middle, surrounded by books all around. Something was glowing on that table…
"Whoa…" Celia breathed.
For on that table was a chess set. But instead of black and white, the usual colours, one side was pure gold and the other was silver. The board looked to be made of marble. It was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.
"You like chess?"
She jumped. For a moment, she'd forgotten that Edmund even existed. He was looking at her keenly, almost amused.
"I love chess." She said softly. She felt a little embarrassed that she got startled like that, so easily. Something about being around this guy made her react, and that was when she was trying extra hard not to. Ugh.
"Me too. I was ecstatic when I first got that chess set. Still am, in fact. Perhaps we should play sometime."
"Yeah"
"Here are the books that are in English. I hope you'll be able to find something to your liking."
"What books would you recommend?"
The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. She still felt kind of smug though. Her question was totally innocent enough, but if there was one thing she'd learnt, it was that there was no better way to judge a person's character than by the books they liked.
He raised an eyebrow. He wasn't falling for it. Damn. But he'd put her on the spot, and she was just returning the favor.
Nevertheless, he walked through the aisles, his hands idly stroking the spines of books as he went. She liked that. She did it too.
What books would he recommend? Something he genuinely liked or something he would use to make a point? What part of his personality would he choose to open to her? And why?
God, this was the curse of growing up with diplomats. Nothing ever looked as straightforward as it seemed. She was trained to look at the implications of every little thing.
"I can't even choose," he admitted after a while. "I love too many books here. However, to begin with, I think that maybe this one would be something you'll find interesting. I thoroughly enjoyed it."
He pulled out a book and handed it to her. She held it delicately, looking at the gold words embossed in the deep purple cover.
Tales of Aslan's Will: A History of Narnia
"I thought it would help you get to know Narnia better, and give you an insight of what you're up against." He stated carefully. Maybe she wasn't so good at keeping her fear and sadness hidden after all. He said what you're up against. He had seen that she found all this strange and challenging. She appreciated his attempt, but felt a need to hit back. She felt like her cover had slipped away just a little bit, and that disturbed her. She didn't like it when people looked beyond what she wanted them to see. It made her feel vulnerable.
"Thank you." She said sincerely. "It looks really interesting."
"You're welcome." Would you like to stay here and read for a while?"
"I think I'll go to my room and do that, if it's okay?"
"Of course it is. Shall I escort you there?"
"No, it's okay-well, actually, I have no clue where to go so yeah, that'd be great." He grinned and again they walked along in silence. She reached her room faster than expected and Edmund said,
"I hope you have everything you need?"
"Yeah, I do – I've practically packed for this."
"Well, then I'll say good night. See you tomorrow,"
"Good night, and thank you. Bye!" He gave her that smile of his once more, and she watched as his tall, lean frame made its way across the passage and out of the room. She wasn't sure whether she liked Edmund Pevensie yet or not, but one thing could certainly be said about him – he was rather intriguing. She was (reluctantly) enjoying this game sort-of thing that they seemed to be playing almost subconsciously. She still didn't know what to make of Narnia, and she had no clue what was real or not, but she realized that she had no choice but to accept what was going on, and that there was no way out of here.
Sighing, she changed into her pajamas and plopped down on the silky, soft bed sheets. Que sera, sera after all. Whatever will be, will be.
