Susan sat down next to Edmund with a sigh. A glance at Dores silently asked for privacy, and the noblewoman quietly complied, closing the door behind her. Silently, Susan reclasped the necklace onto her neck as Edmund read the parchments, noting that the script was in neither Susan nor Dores' hand.
"Don't stay so silent, Edmund." Susan half-pleaded as she leaned her head back to look at the ceiling. "I can stand anyone's silence but yours."
Edmund set the parchment on his lap, considering what he saw. Naturally as a judge, he attempted to keep a neutral mind on all matters. But the matter of the spirit in their castle was an affair that warranted one verdict: fallacy. That is, until he saw a woman in a mirror when there was clearly only Susan and Dores in the room. The woman's appearance was not as gruesome as the fox Lucy claimed she saw but was still enough to have his brave words against the haunting falter.
He cast a look at Susan whose face was pale due to the situation. He sensed fear steeped into her every motion and could not help but wonder if it was from the lady in the mirror or the prospect of Edmund broadcasting that she was doing something she oughtn't have been doing.
At length, Edmund looked up from the parchment on his lap. "Did you-or were my eyes deceiving me-did you…see that woman in the mirror?"
Susan nodded in reply. "Aye, I saw Madame." She paused, noting the cocked eyebrow her brother gave her as she called the apparition by name. "Does this mean you believe, Edmund?"
She hit the question spot on, and her tone seemed to search for a definitive answer. Unfortunately, it was a query Edmund wasn't ready to counter. Did that mean that he believed? He saw the figure with his own eyes and the matter of the disembodied voices he heard the previous night still lingered in his mind. Yet at the same time, he knew how the mind enjoyed trickery. It was not his wish to provoke the other three into a debate on the matter. Nor did he fancy an evening of Susan lobbying her position without ceasing. (She was unbearably stubborn that way.) After some time Edmund spoke feeling far less assured than he sounded, "Suppose so."
If he did not sound genuine in his claim, Susan did not give it regard. She seemed relieved to know Edmund believed in the entity.
"Susan…" Edmund ventured cautiously. Peter had imparted to him earlier that their sister was quite disagreeable that morning and had the potential to snap at him. "What exactly were you and Dores doing as I entered?"
Something Edmund could not define passed over Susan's face as she snatched the papers from his lap without warning. When she spoke, there was an aggravated tone in her voice whose source Edmund could not pin. "Getting answers."
"By means of a séance?" Edmund challenged seizing the papers back from his sister. Try as he might, the Just could not quell the cautionary feeling that began to bubble from his stomach.
"It is a custom in Calmoren." She shot back defensively as Edmund held the parchment to read what the lady had written. At length he cast his sister a pointed glare over the paper.
"It may be passable in Calmoren, but I doubt Aslan would appreciate such goings on."
His words were blunt, and the Gentle bristled at the comment but remained silent otherwise.
The Just set aside the parchment on the table and retained his pointed glare. Silence passed between the two monarchs for several agonizingly long moments. "Does Peter know of this…development?" There it was; the question that had been on the back of Edmund's throat and the front of Susan's mind. It seemed to linger in the air between them like smoke about a closed room.
"No," came the queen's whispered reply. She looked away at the mirror for a moment, appearing to be searching for something Edmund could not define. After a moment, his sister continued to speak. "Nor will he, am I correct?"
The Just cocked an eyebrow and a wolfish grin spread across his features. "Are you plotting to blackmail me, dear sister?" He wondered matching her plumy tones that promised mischief coated with civility.
"Well if you call doubling your offer to Lucy so she shall not permit you to step on her feet and foil your attempt to convince the court that you possess two left feet, blackmail…then aye. I suppose that falls into the realm of blackmail."
The king's mouth formed a straight line across his countenance. In the five years of their reign, Edmund had made a bargain with Lucy. If she endured his purposely stepping on her feet during the ceremonial first waltz the four did for the court, then he owed her some favor or trinket. It was a clever plan for the Narnian matrons and ladies of the court were convinced that the Just could simply not dance and left him be for Peter-whom Edmund was told was a "simply sublime dancer". In reality, years of training in the sword had left Edmund light on his feet and had he not been so opposed to waltzing, he would have been the best partner in the kingdom.
"You offered Lucy a week's afternoons tea with her and Mr. Tumnus for years." Susan explained as if she were simply gossiping, "Yet I have in my hands a favor that makes what you promise parallel cleaning the stables." She stood up and placed a hand on Edmund's shoulder before she elaborated more. "Just think; every courtly matron in Narnian society will be so impressed that their Liege can dance that they'll not give you a moments rest. And of course, if you should tell Peter of this little incident, you'll be sure I'll one up your every offer to Lucy when ever any ball should come up. Imagine, dancing with Lady Whatsit and speaking of nothing but the weather, the roads, her rheumatism…every ball…for the rest of your life." She paused and allowed the possibility settle like a road stretching out over the horizon.
She knew how Edmund had always detested balls and dressing in grand finery. In Finchley, she had tried to goad him into playing 'Cinderella's ball'. His resistance was so adamant that a lamp was broken in the process. The idea of having to deal with what the High King had to deal with every ball for one night was daunting and the notion of it being permanent was overwhelming.
"Do I have your silence?" Susan whispered into the king's ear, bending down to do so.
"You, dear sister, possess a dark and twisted mind," came the Just's playful reply. He hoped that the joking tone would help ease the bite of resolve evident in Susan's voice.
"Oh, I say Lady Whatsit, 'tis a marvelous bunion on thy foot." The Gentle queen imitating her brother in an attempt to show him the mundane path before him, should he snitch. Switching to a high pitched voice that belonged to the fictional Lady Whatsit, the eldest queen continued, "Why, my liege! How scandalous you speak. I daresay my foot trouble cannot hold a candle to my lumbago that troubles me so…"
"Will you stop?" came the slightly annoyed interjection on Edmund's part.
"Do I have your silence?" Susan countered his question with hers, hinting that her teasing would cease if he vowed to hold his tongue.
"You're awful, darling sister." The king informed his sister his way of conceding to keep his mouth shut.
The Gentle answered pleased with his decision, "I knew you'd see reason." A teasing smile spread across the Gentle's lips and a small chortle escaped her lips. Susan pinched her baby brother's cheeks in jest and shot back before turning to leave. "Best commence preparing for the ball. Dusk is only a few hours away."
XXXXXXX
The Valiant painstakingly pinned a white orchid to her chignon and sat back to take in the effect. Beside her the yellow canary handmaiden chirped her approval. "You grow lovelier by the day, Queen Lucy." She informed the queen whose blush clashed with the red of her hair.
"You are too kind, Honeygleam." The teenaged monarch returned through her blush. She could see the reflection of four of her Great Dane handmaidens bustling about to retrieve their queen's ensemble for the evening. A nymph stood by, ready to lend a literal hand should it be needed. Indeed the chignon was the nymph's handiwork.
The ball was to commence at sunset, and as the afternoon began to wane, it seemed the excitement was gradually building and would erupt among her subjects in unrestricted laughter from the hardest warriors and school girl giggling from the staunchest matrons. Even the young queen-who much preferred quiet teas to all the pomp and circumstance of a grand ball-found herself eagerly counting the minutes to the traditional opening dance the four had to perform.
Her attention was pulled away from her visage as Susan entered the dressing room. Five years ago while the Pevensie children prepared to be crowned kings and queens of Narnia, Susan had sought Lucy out to ease the child's apprehensions. (Although Lucy often thought that it was an excuse to cover for her sister's own apprehensions.) Lucy had attended countless balls in the Cair in the half decade of their reign and it wasn't long before Susan's pre-ball visits became tradition. The two would sit for about an hour, speaking of whatever came to mind and allowing themselves to hang up the visage of stateswomen briefly to simply be two teenaged girls who anxiously anticipated a ball.
"Well met, dear sister!" Susan announced with such formality, Lucy could not help but note a suppressed giggle from her sister. The elder Pevensie girl flopped onto the backless couch and tucked her bare feet underneath the white lace of her dressing gown. During the pre-ball visits, Susan had always put propriety on the top shelf far away from thought or sight. Perhaps the lack of rules and decorum was what made Lucy look forward to those times more so than the actual ball. Her only reservation about her sister's personality was that at times, Susan could get stuffier than the armory during winter. Indeed there were times that Lucy longed for Su to act as carefree as she did while they readied themselves for grand parties.
"I will not pretend to hide my profound preference of the Cair's floors." Susan told her sister as she flipped several loose curls of hair over her shoulder. "These floors are so cold, I can hardly walk on them barefoot without my toes turning blue."
"That is why footwear was invented, Su." Lucy laughed, still facing the mirror. Around the queens, the various handmaidens kept to the perimeter of the room to give their Majesties space.
"You will find out soon enough as you grow more into a woman and young men begin to crowd you for dances that slippers can be danced clean through." The elder lightheartedly lectured all the while wagging a finger at her baby sister. "There is nothing worse than dancing with your pinky toe sticking out of the side of your shoe. I find that the closer to the actual first waltz I can slip them on, the better."
The younger threw back her head and laughed at her sister's logic and with out warning leapt up and launched herself playfully at Susan, fully intending to tickle the daylights out of her. From the perimeter of the room, the nymph cast a knowing look at the Great Danes as one of Susan's slippers went flying in an arc across the room with a triumphant shout of "Ha! Now how do you like them apples?!"
A black and white Great Dane cocked her head. She did not understand some jargon her monarchs used at times. Certainly there were no apples to be had within the rooms. On the couch, Lucy had uncurled her sister's feet from underneath her and was presently tickling in such a way that the Gentle howled in uncontrollable laughter. The nymph noticed the dog's confused countenance and leaned in close to whisper, "A saying from Spare 'Oom."
"Stop it!" Susan requested between giggles so that it sounded more like 'stawit' than 'stop it'.
"Do you concede?" Lucy demanded through her own laughter.
"Aye." Came the answer laced with giggles. At her coincidence, the youngest Pevensie slipped off of the couch and with a crisp reply of "good" walked over to her vanity to check the damage of her hair while Su went off to gather her scattered slippers.
Within moments she joined her sister at the mirror and tended to smoothing her dark curls, not noticing Lucy's calculating glance. Many Narnians whispered that the Pevensie sisters were differing as vastly as an herbivore and carnivore did. Indeed, Lucy took in her big sister's proud countenance that always had looked so certain and that in itself was comforting. There was nothing spontaneous about Susan's looks. Everything was as solid and uniformed yet gorgeous at the same time-almost like a lovely marble statue made by the Great Masters. Her sister's hair, though loosely falling down her back, looked as if it always and still was made to be that way from the moment of Susan's birth.
Sighing a bit, Lucy clasped a string of pearls to rest at the hollow of her throat. About a year ago, she had let slip to Mrs. Beaver that she longed to be just as pretty as Susan when she was older. The aging beaver had shook her head and insisted that Lucy had a beauty all her own. Mrs. Beaver had insisted that it was if the very sun peeked out of Lucy's countenance. The very energy her disposition possessed had bled out onto her expressions and that was what made the Valiant equally beautiful as Su.
"Are pearls appropriate for this time of day?" The younger asked, taking in the effect of the white of the pearls and the white of the orchid.
"Pearls are perfectly fine at any time of day." Susan explained, sounding like a teacher at lecture. "'Tis diamonds that should not be worn until after sunset." Susan paused, noting how engrossed in her own thoughts her sister was and decided that vengeance for the foot tickling was at hand. A comfortable silence fell between the two until Lucy gave a yelp of surprise as Susan's barefoot came into contact with the younger's buttocks.
"How do you like those apples, Lu?" Susan wondered casually with a smirk in place of laughter.
The sisters fell into a comfortable silence as they held up jewels against their skin to analyze the effect. The handmaidens had left briefly to assist one of the menservants tending to the kings, leaving the sisters alone in Lucy's chambers. Quietly Susan held up a brooch of amethyst, tiny opals and pearls and examined the effect of it sitting on the neckline of her chemise. "What do you think?" She inquired of her sister, "Looks rather stunning doesn't it."
"Aye," Lucy agreed, "you can borrow it if you ask."
"You borrowed it from me, Lucy Victoria Pevensie!"
Lucy made a face of disbelief as she placed a pair of simply gilded silver earrings on. "I do not recall such an event."
"You begged me to allow you to borrow it the time we went to Archenland's court last." Susan explained evenly, "And promised to give it back immediately, if I recall correct-" She cut off as the sound of furniture scraping reverberated across the room. Lucy's hand attached to Susan's wrist as if magnetized. Susan looked up from examining a cuff of fine dwarven gold and gasped as she saw through the mirror the large couch pull itself across the room to rest by the window. Then with out warning, a cherry wood table levitated, zipped across the room and stacked itself on top of the sofa.
Outwardly calm, Susan grasped Lucy's hand with her free one. "You know," She began in a voice that belied her calm reaction, "when I am faced with something scary, I make light of it." Lucy nodded although she did not believe such a jest would ease her amounting fear of the entity in the castle. Undaunted, Susan continued with false cheer. "It is obvious the ghost is dissatisfied with the room's décor."
XXXXX
From the other side of the doors to the great hall, Peter could hear the murmur of his subjects awaiting the monarch's entrance. In truth, the low hum of the Narnian court reminded him of the low pitch hum beehives emit. Around him, Edmund pulled at a stray thread from his deep green tunic. The younger brother looked to be bursting from boredom. However, like an excitable child disguised as a lovely young woman, Lucy flitted about the small foyer. She paused and pulled at Edmund to get him excited for the party. The Just gave her a sour face but Lucy just giggled and continued flitting like a blue satin streak about the room. Susan grinned at her sister's jests and with out warning spun her sister into an impromptu waltz with her matching gold and white slippers in one hand.
A laugh from the end of the room caused the girls to stop as Vitus strode the length of the foyer, readjusting the sleeves on his gray-blue tunic. "Looks as though a change has been made for the traditional first waltz." Vitus observed to the four as he made the finishing readjustments to his tunic. "I must confess that it shall be quite a sensational vision to have not only our Regal Queens dancing together but our Noble Kings as well."
Peter made a face that mimicked his brother's as he pursued the unholy itch across his chest that was caused by the gold embroidery on his gray tunic. He spoke over Susan's reprimands. "Aren't you supposed to be in the hall awaiting our grand entrance?"
"A minor set back, m'lord." Vitus laughed before bowing in the direction of the two queens. "I trust both of my Queens will do me the honor of reserving a dance?" His answer came in the slight incline of the oldest queen's head and with a nod, Vitus turned to exit. He paused for a moment and turned with a sly grin spread across his face. "Of course, I would hope my kings would grant me the same favor…"
"You're lucky you have diplomatic immunity, my friend." Peter laughed after Vitus. And with a frown, he commenced scratching at his chest again. His skin felt like it was afire and he could not imagine sitting though the beginning ceremony with out attacking the itch yet alone an evening of forced dancing.
"Peter!" Susan chastised at her brother's itching and taking a step toward him. "I hope this will not be a habit of the night."
"You're not allergic to the tunic's fabric, are you?" Lucy offered with a worried note in voice.
"He's worn the same tunic on other occasions and was not afflicted." Susan reassured Lucy with a flat tone as she bent to slip her shoes onto her feet. Once she did so, she took her place next to the High King with an accusing glare at him as Edmund stood next to Lucy, arm at the ready.
"Oh," Lucy pleaded to her siblings, "please do let us enjoy the evening. After all, an itchy tunic will not breed scandal, and boredom can easily be remedied." At the mention of boredom she cast Edmund a pointed look and placed her hand atop of his waiting arm. Edmund opened his mouth for a retort but the fanfare from the great hall cued the four's entrance.
The hall that once seemed so large now looked tiny in comparison to Cair Paravel's for the sheer number of Narnians in attendance. Garlands of the fall flowers - mums of deep reds and purples and bright yellow and orange marigolds- were draped across the railing of the landing that hung over the four thrones. Lanterns hung from almost every pillar and closer to the back, tables adorned in white linen and fall flowers were set up so that the Four's smaller subjects could still dance yet not get trampled in the many reels, waltzes, quadrilles, and country dances that would be preformed through out the night.
The four appeared on the landing like shining beacons of order and truth. A hush of awe and reverence fell over the crowd as the elder two descended from the right staircase and the Just and Valiant descended on the opposite side before the siblings met at the four thrones below the landing.. Like a wave, the Narnians bowed in their own ways as the four stood in front of their thrones. It was only when they took their seats, that the crowd rose.
A hush fell over the crowd as Vitus stood at the bottom of the dais, facing his monarchs. Ever since Aslan breathed life in the land, the bards recounted the history of Narnia before any ball or celebration took place. It was King Frank I who instated it as a way of reminder and to incite a feeling of gratefulness for all that the Great Lion had done for the Narnians. Reciting the deep history was quite an honor indeed and was only given to one who apprenticed the bard in charge of the practice. Peter could not help but remember with a grin that in the early days when he was training in the sword, spear and lance, Vitus had to endure hours of standing erect with a heavy tome above his head until he could recite a portion of history with out flaw. The political prisoner's master, an old faun by the name of Sergius, was stricter than Oreius by far and Peter found himself being grateful for his mentor.
Although it was the lad's first time reciting the history solo, he did not look nervous. (Thanks to a well timed glass of port.) At length, Vitus opened his mouth and began reciting on the same sustained note in a booming voice many did not expect he possessed. "At the dawn, when the Great Lion had breathed life into the darkness, King Frank and Queen Helen ruled with faith and justice. In the year 34, King Frank succumbed to death, leaving his son, King Frank II to take over his father's place. By the year 41, Frank II took a wife, the nymph Aramanta and with her by is side established the great dwarven mines of the Southern District…" He continued on the same note for about an hour or so, recounting the great accomplishments of every King and Queen of Narnia until he got to the Four. Although the Narnians took the recitation in with alacrity, feet began to fidget for the want of dancing. At last Vitus finished with the traditional ending, "May this history, council and guide our Kings and Queens, present and future, to be shining beacons of the Lion's example."
Wild applause met the living political treaty as he bowed deep to the Magnificent, Gentle, Just and Valiant and stepped aside. The four stood up and made their way down the dais to stand at the center of the floor. The faun and human musicians began to play a waltz that was said to have been passed down since Frank the First's time. As the song wore on, the only voice to be heard over the flutes and violins was Lucy's purposely loud exclamations of "Ouch!" as Edmund stepped on her feet. When the last trill of the flute announced the end of the waltz, the ball had officially began and Peter found himself assaulted by a gaggle of Narnian noblewomen of every species and age asking him to dance the next one with them.
The music and dances seemed to melt together to create a delicious kaleidoscope of brightly colored tunics, gowns, plumage and fur. Time seemed to have no sway at the assembly; such was the level of merriment. As the birds flitted around in a blur of plumage above the dancers, laughter seemed to cover every corner of the hall and Lucy could not help but banish the disturbing occurrences the castle warranted. A lovely Narnian tune had incited Lucy to join in an English Country Dance, a dance that had reminded her of the Virginia Reel she had seen Vivien Leigh dance in "Gone With the Wind". When the four had found out that the dance was originally introduced-and tweaked- by Queen Helen in the first year of Narnia.
Lucy "balanced back" with her partner, a jolly looking older human. The castle almost felt cheery and homey. She offered her partner her hands to "both hands" down the line and for the fist time in months, the dreams, the occurrences and the vision of the fox was driven from her mind.
Across the room, Edmund was engaged a heated debate over morality with Waylon and Dores, the Elderly Gentleman, a gray haired lady faun who was the sibling's philosophy tutor, and her husband. Despite his general dislike of balls, Lucy saw her brother's eyes alight with alacrity over the subject of whether or not something should be done for the benefit of many or for one. It seemed that he was doing quite well in the argument for although she caught glimpses of Edmund shaking his head in disagreement with his tutor, she also caught the pleased gleam in Indrani's eyes that only a teacher could possess when her students showed prowess in a subject.
With another skip Lucy and her partner did a "figure eight" with the couple right of them and she saw Peter dancing down the line with a spry dogwood dryad. Despite his reluctance to his popularity as a dance partner, Peter was visibly enjoying himself. With a large grin, he accepted the offer of the next dance from his contrary, a young freckled face centaur maiden, as if he was always born to be in the public eye. Lucy could not help but smile at how even when her brother was amid his subjects-an act that not many monarchs did in other countries- he still looked every bit the part of a High King.
A "three hand star" afforded Lucy the luxury to see Susan approaching Vitus-who was recounting tales to the children- to claim the dance she promised him several hours ago. Susan had left her curls hang loosely for the ball and Lucy had begun to see why several dances ago when her orchid began to hang precariously from her chignon. At length, Susan convinced the griot to join her for a traditional Narnian dance innovated by the fauns and dryads. The Valiant could not help let out a laugh at Vitus' face as Susan led him to the dancers to await the end of the English Country Dance. It warmed Lucy's heart to see the other three having such a grand time and that they had heeded her words several hours ago.
The dance ended and the queen curtseyed to her partner and decided to head off to goad Mr. Tumnus into another dance after a glass of mulled cider the castle's cooks had began serving. But the familiar shout of 'yoo-hoo' caused the young queen to look around to see which direction the cry came from. A smile spread across the Valiant's visage as Betsy Peahen fluttered her beetle-green feathers to capture her queen's attention. She stood on one of the tables for the smaller subjects in danger of being trodden during a dance and her husband, Sir Gallus Galewe.
"Betsy! Sir Gallus!" Lucy beamed, setting aside the goblet of barely sipped cider and greeting them with a gracious grin. "Well met! Well met! I hope you are enjoying the ball?"
Betsy clucked her approval loudly, for the laughter, stomps and music made it hard to hear anything without shouting. "Quite well, your Grace. Sir Galewe and I are quite enjoying ourselves. Why, I said to little Regina Bristlesplat that I wager there will never be such a collection of guests as merry as these." She paused and turned to her husband. "Is that not so, Sir Galewe?" Betsy twittered.
"As you say, Lady Galewe." Gallus responded in an unenthusiastic tone. It was common knowledge that the couple truly did love each other, yet it was Gallus' nature to appear perpetually annoyed and uninterested. Susan had constantly compared Gallus to a Mr. Palmer back in Finchley. She had described Mr. Palmer to be married a Charlotte Palmer but Lucy could not remember any neighbors or acquaintances of that name from Finchley. And so the reference was of completely no use to the Valiant.
"Are all your chicks here, Sir and Lady Galewe?" Lucy wondered politely for she had spotted Danilo across the room with a gaggle of fair geese and one of the recent clutch watching the cats near the stairs with a morbid interest. Moving among the crowd, Lucy saw Edmund moving towards them, helping Indrani steady the heavily pregnant Dores work her way around the room. There was no doubt that the overcrowding of the hall warranted air for the heavily pregnant woman.
"Aye that they are, your Highness." Betsy trilled and began pointing out every chick with Peahen blood in their veins. Lucy listened politely as Sir Gallus stood by with a polite disinterest. However there was one name that was not mentioned and Lucy felt compelled to inquire.
"And what of little Ove?" she wondered, craning her neck to look. "I do not see him about."
Betsy fluffed up at the mention of the little chick. No doubt she was still vexed with Ove for his actions against his youngest queen. "He was punished by not being allowed to come to the ball tonight with the rest of the family. Ove is in the coop near the East garden, your Majesty."
"We do express our sincerest apologies for our son's behavior, Queen Lucy." Gallus added sounding slightly less bored than before.
The queen opened her mouth to reply but Dores' greetings as she, Indrani and Edmund came closer stayed the young queen. Ed had a look of slight boredom on his face and Lucy could only surmise that it was because he was not debating about morals, ethics or military strategies. She cast him a teasing grin. "Lady Dores! Have you finally convinced my royal brother to dance?"
Dores laughed as the three came to a stop to speak with Lucy, Betsy and Gallus. "I fear one must see one's feet to dance, your Majesty." She told Lucy with a grin.
"It is a shame you do not dance as well as your elder brother, the High King, my Liege." Betsy told Edmund with a well placed trill. "Is that not a shame, Sir Galewe?"
"Exceedingly." Came the unimpressed reply as the rooster dipped his head in apology to his monarchs before he made his way across the table.
Lucy giggled and cast Edmund a twinkling glance. There was no doubt that she was enjoying the ball. In sooth, he was having a better time than he anticipated. After Susan's threat of exposing his well made plan to not dance at all, he worried that she would go on and one up his offer to Lucy anyway. But Lu held up his plodding like a true sport and though he would never admit it aloud, he was grateful to have a little sister like her.
Ever the voice of reason, Indrani spoke up. "Forgive me, your Grace, but the overcrowded room has left Dores quite uncomfortable. Your royal brother was so kind to offer his aid."
"That is well of him." Betsy commented with a proud cluck, "I must say our Kings and Queens are the paragon of all that is honorable and good in this world."
"You are too kind, Lady Betsy." Edmund responded dutifully as he led Waylon's wife away from his sister and the hen as the quadrille began.
As they wove through the crowd, Edmund could not help but notice Peter dancing with a beaming Mrs. Beaver. For his brother there seemed to be no escaping his destiny to dance with every female in Narnia through the course of the evening and although his silence on the séance did bother him, Edmund decided that it was a far better course than the one that was set before him if he broke his silence.
"Oh, look." Dores whispered to Indrani as they neared the stairs. Edmund followed his philosophy tutor's gaze to where Susan danced with Vitus. "I would have never have thought I would see the day…"
"I'm sure 'tis only a coincidence, Lady Dores." Indrani replied, looking back to observe as they ascended the stairs. Vitus had mentioned something unknown to Susan that made her blush and Edmund's impartiality evolved into a severe dislike.
As they reached the top, Indrani left her companions to open the door for the other two, leaving Edmund to support Waylon's wobbling wife who commented on a chill on the staircase. There was something unsettling about the cold to Edmund- it was almost unnatural. Even when he was imprisoned by the White Witch, he had never felt a cold as penetrating as the one near the top of the flight of stairs.
Not wanting to alarm his companion, Edmund kept his silence as he helped her onto the step before the landing. A laugh, as raw and as quiet as the wind, chortled in the Just's ear and simultaneously, he felt a hand quickly caress his cheek. "Now watch this, Child." A voice suggested with a laugh that the king could only describe as the purest evil. He took one step ahead of Dores to see if Indrani had heard the voice as well. The sudden foot fall of heels Edmund could not place startled him enough to turn around to the direction where they seemed to be heading.
He could almost hear the impact of hands slam against Dores' chest and with unnatural force and speed, the Archenlander wife of Waylon fell backwards down the stairs. Even in the shock of the initial moment, it was clear she did not slip. For no fall could ever produce one to tumble six times down the thirty-sum stairs. In one long drawn out syllable, the beauty and blithe feeling of the evening dissolved like the harsh winter snows did when Aslan stepped onto Narnia's shores five years ago. However the outcome- one of Narnia's own slamming hard onto the stone floor with a sickeningly loud crack of bone breaking-offered no hope and peace that the Son of the Emperor gave. The entity of the castle only offered fear and despair.
A/n: Well, the ball scene is finally done! Hooray! And I am proud to announce that the chap was beta-read by GemEncrustedEarth. On an unrelated note, I challenge you all to pick out the Jane Austen reference imbedded in this chapter. I was watching several film adaptations of Austen's books to get inspired for the ball scene and I was so affected that it just wrote itself in there. Anyway, thanks goes out to all my reviewers and readers as always.
