Bah! Ok...I returned to campus and found that I'm going to be busier than expected. So in all likelihood I won't be able to finish the story before classes...that begin Friday...which I feel positively awful about because now you lovely readers will have to suffer through inconsistent updating.
With that said, don't be alarmed if I disappear until the holidays. And please, please don't be angry with me if that happens. I want to finish this just as much as you want to!
Ok, I'll stop wasting your time and get to the next chapter...
That dream with Peter was a heavy burden in my mind in the days that followed. Aslan meant for it to give me peace and closure but all it gave me was a hole so deep in my heart that it rendered me silent. Not even Edmund could bring out more than a few words from me. And Peter...I avoided him like the plague. I just couldn't bear to face him, for more than one reason.
For the time being, I'm not allowed to go on my patrols, Finnick acting as interim General in my stead. Peter says I'm not healed enough to go back out there. I think it's an excuse to keep me around the castle, even if I am ignoring him.
"Every time I get close to something, I find the pages ripped out!" Lucy scoffs, slamming a large leather-bound book shut as she pulls out another one.
"There are so many," Susan breathes. It's meant as in invitation for me to come over and help. But I simply blink my eyes and her and gaze back out the window, where I have a clear view of Peter and Edmund in the thick of a practice duel. Peter is obviously the better swordsman, but it wouldn't surprise me if Edmund surpasses his older brother in a few years.
I really hate being stuck here. I should be out with Finnick, defending Narnia's borders. In Cair Paravel, I'm restless and antsy. This is probably the longest I've been cooped up in the castle. As I mentioned before, I make it a point not to stay in one place too long. What's worse is that I hear reports that the raids are increasing in number and severity but our noble king has yet to take serious action.
"Perhaps the witch had a son?" Susan poses.
The second line of Edmund's kidnapping note is still puzzling to us, making me believe that it's a hint at another way the witch can return. Clearly she's seeking a male but to what purpose? As Lucy already pointed out, anything of value has been ripped out of the Narnian archives. That in itself is profoundly disturbing. It would seem that someone is working against us and from within the walls of Cair Paravel no less.
"I think it's right time for a break," Mr. Tumnus' voice warmly invades the library.
He carries a tray of four mugs in his hands, all containing steaming milk with honey, his signature drink. Lucy and Susan give mild cheers, gratefully accepting the interruption. The faun gives me mine last.
"I put in a little something extra to yours," he winks, and I can smell the sweet liqueur among the likes of the honey.
I offer him a weak smile as thanks, certainly more than I've given anyone else these past few days, and he's encouraged by the gesture. I take a sip of the warm milk, letting the flavors roll over my tongue before I swallow, the liqueur creating a warm fuzzy feeling in my stomach.
"Good evening, girls."
I nearly choke on my drink, wondering when Peter and Edmund left their field of play, as they now show up here, stinking and covered in sweat.
"Ew, Peter, you reek," Susan, pushes the eldest Pevensie away from her as he tries to press a brotherly kiss to her cheek.
"Read anything good in your books?" Ed asks, settling in the chair nearest me.
Peter shoots me a chaste look, as if gauging my mood, before he takes the seat between Mr. Tumnus and Edmund. I remain at my place on the window ledge, listening to the five of them trade stories about daily life in the castle. Part of me wishes I could join in with my own comical stories about Dame Adelaide or Onoffre while the other part of me wants to throw up at the simplicity of it all. The bitter part of me eventually wins out as I rise from my seat, turning out into the hall.
My mindless walking brings me to the infirmary as I decide to seek medical clearance from the Chief Healer Bryon. If Bryon clears me then Peter will have no grounds to keep me locked up in the castle.
"My Lady Evelyn," the aging faun beams at me when I knock on his door, "What can I do for you?"
"I need you to clear me for patrol," I respond, surprising even myself at how strong the words came from my mouth.
"My Lady, I'm not so sure that is wise. Your muscles have not fully healed and the burns on your legs...they could still fester," he hesitantly tells me.
"They won't and I feel fine."
It was a lie.
It hurts to stand for more than a few minutes and I can't even begin to fathom how I'm going to ride a horse with the fresh burns on the inside of my legs.
But I have to get out of here.
"If you want to be cleared you'll have to pass a number of exams," he explains with a doubtful look.
"So be it. Let's do them," I hastily say.
"I'm afraid I need some time to prepare. We can begin tomorrow morning," he rounds to the other side of his desk, pulling out a few leaves of parchment, "Let's see...endurance, strength, coordination, balance, mental capacity...I think what I'll have you do as far as coordination, strength, and endurance is enter a duel. I'll also need you to ride a horse for me to see how the burns hold up...and the others I'll have to come up with tonight. If you pass all your tests I'll clear you for duty. Sound fair?"
"What choice do I have?" I offer him a sardonic smile before turning on my heel.
It's odd how different life is in the castle compared to life on patrol. Things are lighter here, more festive with a catastrophe being defined as the choice drink to pair with the night's supper. People eat, drink, and play at their own leisure with nothing of merit to worry their petty little heads. Sometimes I feel that's how it is with the Kings and Queens. People's homes are being razed to the ground and they're here pretending to battle and regaling each other with tales of fancy. It reminds me all too much like home...or rather New York. It's that same dull, monotonous life that I escaped and wound up in Narnia.
Of course...even that is a lie.
I know where my bitterness comes from.
I'm not an idiot.
It's coming from Peter and the way he looks at me with that same sappy look on his face. It comes from the fact that I really do enjoy life at Cair Paravel but can never keep it because of my duty. It comes from that cursed dream I had, reminding me that I can never have Peter the way I did.
It's because of all this that I'm practically jumping out of my skin and my teeth are constantly on edge. I have to get away. Being constantly reminded of everything I can't have is going to drive me up the wall.
Somehow I end up in the gardens amidst all my thoughts. I'm not really a flower kind of girl since my allergies are exacerbated by the pollen but in Narnia, that seems not to happen. The flowers here are different. They're more radiant, brightly colored, and smell so much better than they do back on earth. My favorites just in this garden are the blue ones that look like calla lilies. At night they have a soft glow to them and burn dark but in the day they are so pale and flecked with silver. And they remind me of Peter. With a sigh, I spread out on the springy grass, interestedly looking at all the flora around me.
Can't say I've ever really stopped to look before.
"This is the last place I'd ever expect to find you in," Peter's voice interrupts my solitude and for a second, I'm angry with him for it. But then I look at him and I realize how much I miss him and all is forgiven.
We haven't even so much as breathed a word to one another about the dream. I can't even believe all of that happened. Of course I find Peter attractive and of course I long to kiss him and have him hold me but to that great extent? It hasn't crossed my mind all that much.
But...now that it has...it's hard to forget.
"It's quiet," I softly reply, watching as he lies in the grass next to me.
"Like you've been the past couple of days," he comments and I turn my eyes away from him from embarrassment as the dream sears through my memory.
But then I feel his fingers on my cheek and they turn my head so that I'm forced to look at him.
"Don't look away," he gently pleads, cocking his head a little to the side to observe my face.
God, how the tiniest things he does gets my heart racing.
My eyes close as I try to rid my mind of certain images of Peter and a furious blush darkens my cheeks as I wonder if all that I saw of him in my dream is real. When I open my eyes, I see Peter amusedly smiling at me, a blush of his own fading. I've never felt so embarrassed before. Those thoughts are so private and I would never reveal them to anyone but here's Peter, knowing every fickle little detail of what occurred. It's like you know that kind stuff happens and you're happy to casually talk about it, but when it concerns you it becomes private. At least, that's how I feel.
Peter breathes a sigh, rolling onto his back while his hands are stretched over his head, fingers sliding through the dewy blades of grass, "Makes you wonder if it would really feel that way."
Holy crap he's talking about it!
And I can't help the next blush that I think consumes my entire face. Thankfully Peter doesn't see it as he eyes are turned upward to the shining stars in the sea of blue nothing. At my silence he turns his head to look at me.
"Still silent, eh?" he asks, "Not because of the dream I hope?"
"I'm silent because there's nothing to say," I snap, surprising him with my outburst.
"Nothing to say? You could say anything you wanted because it never happened," he points out.
"That's the point! It never will happen, Peter!" my voice rises as my thoughts from earlier form into words, "It was nothing but hollow thoughts! A false hope intending to give us peace but only gives us hell!"
"But it did bring some peace," he frowns, clearly the dream giving him more than it ever gave me.
"No. It didn't! Because you know why?" I start scrambling to my feet, "Because actually having sex is more real. So many more feelings and emotions than you could ever hope to imagine!"
It was a pretty low blow, outing Peter's virginity when he had disclosed that fact to me in the confidence that I wouldn't laugh or judge. In truth, the dream is just about as close as it gets to the real thing. But I'm just so frustrated by his complacent attitude about it... while I'm left with a gaping hole.
The things I said to Peter last night, weigh heavily on my shoulders the next morning as I go through Healer Bryon's fitness tests. The tests set forth for balance and mental awareness were a breeze, despite the fact I was slightly distracted by the pang of guilt in my gut. Horse-riding wasn't nearly as easy and was downright painful but I put on a passive face and the bandages held up.
We are currently headed down to the practice field where Bryon arranged a duel to test my endurance and strength. This would prove to be a challenge with the way my legs twinge with pain if I do more than run. Matters only become worse when I see that Peter is the one I'm fighting.
My face pales and a flurry of curses run through my mind as I see the way he's irritably glaring at me. I had hoped to get cleared for duty without Peter finding out about it and there's no doubt in my mind that he's infuriated that I went behind his back to do so. That...and the fact that I wounded his pride last night.
"I don't have to win to pass...do I?" I frantically ask, knowing that there's no way I'm going to beat Peter. Bouts against Peter are difficult as it is...now I'm ailing and he pissed at me.
"No. I'm only observing the way you move, the way your muscles react, and how well you can maintain extended physical activity. The result of the fight is irrelevant to your health," he promptly replies, nose buried in his notes.
We are to fight with blunted swords, adding to the laundry list of advantages Peter holds over me and I feel my confidence deflate as he wordlessly hands me a blade, the tip dropping to the ground as I adjust to the heavy metal. Bryon settles himself on a nearby fence.
"Take it easy at first and work your way up from there!" he calls to us, giving Peter a nod to begin.
His face is hard and calculating as we circle around each other, the first move yet to be made. I bounce from foot to foot, preparing my aggravated muscles for what is to come. Peter makes the first lunge, one that I avoid with a dodge roll off to the side. I'm a bit slow to my feet and my face contorts from pain as I wince, something that goes unnoticed by Bryon but not to Peter.
"Why are you doing this to yourself?" he grunts, taking another swing at me, one that is only parried.
"Because," I heave his blade off mine, taking a few swipes of my own, "I have a duty."
"Come off it," he chides, parrying my quick blows, and dealing one to my side with the flat of the blade, "Just admit you're trying to get away from me."
My chest heaves up and down as I hold my side while the pain throbs away before I prepare my next plan of attack.
"Fine," my word emphasized by my heavy strike, "I don't want to be here with you."
He parries my counterattack and hits his mark again, this time my shoulder. I let out a small yell of pain, my breath ragged as the fight takes more of my energy than it does Peter's. But I refuse to stop.
"You know what? That's fine. I can accept that...understand it even," he flips his sword deftly in his hand, waiting for me to resume, "But that fact that you didn't have the guts—" he swing his sword above his head and down at me, "—The decency, to tell me the truth is what pisses me right off."
More and more Peter is getting blows in but I still block my fair share and still refuse to back down despite the agony in my legs.
"No. Instead you go behind my back—" his swings become more harsh, carrying almost full weight now, "—And I have to find out from Bryon what you were planning. You couldn't have just told me last night?"
"I'm sorry!" I finally cry out, my throat dry from listening to him and from the exhaustion of our heated exchange.
"So sorry that you had to blow up in my face? After you've said nothing to me the past few days! Do you really hate being around me that much?"
It's a real duel now—at least the intensity of a real duel—and tears burn the corners of my eyes from the exhaustion, if not from Peter's harsh words. And I can't bring myself to answer him nor to continue to fight. All it takes is one well-placed swing and my sword is ripped from my hands, my knees sinking into the ground as my body trembles with each exhale.
"Fine," Peter spits, voice in a low and seething, "Go then," and he throws the sword down in front of me and storms back up to the castle.
I close my eyes, willing the pain—emotional and physical—to just go away. Upon hearing someone else approaching, I open my eyes and stand to meet Bryon.
"You lasted much longer than I expected, General Wood. I see no reason to keep you under supervision any longer," he tells me.
The only good thing to come of this day.