Lost and Found
I dip into the dance's ending curtsey, rising with a flurry of my blue and white skirts. I smiled at my partner—a too-talkative Archenlander four times my age—and let myself melt into the clapping dancers, missing my siblings fiercely.
I slipped between them with smiles, nods, little laughs in response to their flourishes. I ducked around, went forward, spun, ducked under, curtsied, and then, there—I had made it off the floor. I lifted a curtain over the large, floor-to-ceiling window, and stepped through the opening onto a balcony.
We were celebrating, celebrating a successful treaty; I had mediated it between Galma and Telmar. They were finally ceasing their war, and we celebrated it. A noisy, laughing festival, where my dancing heels hid my aching heart.
I needed Peter's firm strength, Edmund's steady gaze and sharp mind, Lucy's valiant faith. I needed them to light the darkness that all this greed had brought, as men, men, foolish men, wrangled over gold, land, and ships like they were worth more than a life.
I was not at home. I was not with family.
I was exhausted by the dark.
Light illuminated the railing in front of me, pouring past me into the dark, for a brief second as the curtain lifted. Before I could turn, two arms hugged me from behind.
"Edmund and Peter sent me to find you." Lucy's voice, calm, lilting, a child strong enough to lead—I had missed this. "They thought you might need us."
I turned, holding her in my arms, laying my head on hers in the way Narnia had taught us. "More than you know. I'm lost without you all."