Chapter 6

The entire party had blinked by in a minute, but the house was dark when Peter got home. He changed for bed silently, courteously, but the moment he pulled the covers up over him, he felt a deep and brooding restlessness. "I can't bear this," he thought, and he got up. His room was too small and too narrow, so he went to pace in the hallway, burying his nervous hands in his hair as he thought of the look on Katie's face. Then he tried to collect himself, square his shoulders and march with more deliberation.

He didn't consider the noise he might be making until Edmund's tousled head poked out of his doorway. "Peter!" he hissed. "It's almost three in the morning! What in blazes are you doing?"

Peter looked at his brother and felt a rush of affection he decided not to express. Edmund hadn't changed. He was still prone to grumpiness, as always. And if he were still prone to a peevish fit, wouldn't he still be wise in counsel? The idea struck Peter like a thunderbolt, and he stammered rather than said, "Ed, can I talk to you?"

Twenty minutes later, Edmund had heard the whole story, and he leaned back against his pillows, rubbing his chin as he considered. "Well, certainly you were right in not er, continuing with Katie, but I don't know that it was exactly kind to brush her off like that. She's probably awfully hurt. So you know what you ought to do. It's the only courtly thing."

"I've got to apologize." Peter squared his shoulders, prepared to take the blame he deserved. "I'll ask Su for her number tomorrow."

"But Peter, that's not the only problem," Edmund said quickly, sensing his brother was about to get up.

"It's not?"

"Of course not. You're not yourself, Peter. Everyone can see it. And I know you wish we were in Narnia, but don't you remember? When you left for the last time, just before Caspian's coronation, you told us you couldn't go back. And when Lucy asked if you could stand it, you said 'I think I can.' I remember, because that's what helped me when I got back from that glorious ride on the Dawn Treader and I knew I myself could never go back. What you said, and the look on your face. So what's happened? Why can't you bear it anymore?"

Peter picked at the crocheted blanket on Edmund's bed. Lucy had done it as her first project, and she had woven, however inexpertly, Narnian stars into the pattern, and Edmund's crest as king. "It was different when I got back. I was still in school. I knew what I had to do. But now…" he looked up, straight into his brother's face. "Where do I go now? Can a king be a short order cook? Or a banker?"

Edmund looked back at his brother, hard. He seemed on the point of replying when Susan burst into the room.

"You idiot!" she cried, picking up a pillow and hurling it at Peter. Both boys flinched. "Can't you do anything right?"

Edmund watched the pair of them shrewdly but remained silent.

"Su, if this is about Katie—" Peter began.

"Of course it's about Katie! You bolt from the party—leave me there—and then she comes up to me in tears. Can't you be normal for once? I thought you two would be perfect for each other. You could be her knight errant. She could be your damsel in distress. It was perfect, it was a way for you to forget all this Narnia business, and you threw it all away! What's the matter, Peter? She's a nice girl."

Susan stared at her brother with her hands on her hips. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were shining with tears of frustration and in truth, she was just as beautiful enraged as she was any other time.

Peter looked away from her and resumed picking at Edmund's blanket. "That's just it, Su," he said quietly, but firmly. "I don't want to forget Narnia."

Susan sighed, and now she did start to cry, a couple of tears sliding elegantly down her cheeks. "Peter, why are you doing this to yourself? All of this only causes you pain. So what if once we were kings and queens? It doesn't matter here, just as our lives here didn't matter there."

"I don't think that's true," Edmund put in.

Susan turned on him now. "And you! You and Lucy! Why do you encourage this? Can't you see what you're doing to him?"

Edmund scowled, his old expression of displeasure. "Do you think you're any better? Throwing girls at him was a fabulous idea. Really did the trick."

"Stop sniping, the pair of you," Peter said in exasperation. He got up and walked out of the room. In the hallway, he passed his own room and stood in front of Lucy's door a moment. He cracked it open, and when he heard the soft sound of her breathing, he slipped inside.

She was lying on her back in the moonlight in the deepest, sweetest sleep you can imagine. Her face was full of peace, and there was a hint of a smile on her lips. Peter saw in that face all the confidence of her childhood, her unshakeable faith in Aslan, in Narnia, and even still, in him.

He knelt at the side of her bed, as if keeping vigil over his sister. "Lu," he whispered. "Give me just a little bit of your strength and your courage. I just need enough faith to get by."