Waking up was like coming up from the bottom of the swimming pool: it made you feel horrifically sick. Emma could feel all the blood rushing through her ears, and for the first time ever, she was aware of her own heart beating strong and loudly. She'd never even stopped to question her existence before, and now suddenly she could feel every organ in her body working how it was supposed to. Then in a sudden rush, she was conscious.

She opened her eyes and the sun hurt them. She closed them again and rolled over. Her pillows were damp and her hair was knotted and greasy. Her nightshirt stuck to her, like she'd been sweating a lot. And yet even though she felt disgusting and dirty, she somehow felt clean too, as though a weight had been lifted from her. She couldn't think what it was.

She attempted opening her eyes again. She blinked a few times to try and get them into focus. She looked at the figure standing by the window, looking out. He looked very grave and serious, far more so than the last time she'd seen him. He looked older and more world-weary somehow, but more handsome and noble than ever. She decided to test her voice out.

"Edmund?" she said, weakly, but audibly. He turned and looked at her, half in delight, she thought, but a look of fear passed over his face too.

He didn't reply, but instead crossed the room and left, before returning with a servant.

"A bath and a change of clothes," he instructed the girl. "And then some food."

"Yes sire." The girl curtsied and then Edmund was gone. Emma wondered what had happened to make him so afraid of her.

"She seems cured," Susan declared later that day.

"And since when did you become the expert?" Peter asked, with far more nastiness than usual. He was tired, Susan reminded herself, he always got irritable when he was tired.

"I'm just saying, she seems more normal again." Susan remained calm.

"Not that we noticed when she wasn't normal," Peter remarked.

"Well Edmund did." Susan turned to her other brother. "What do you think, Ed?"

Edmund nodded. "She does seem back to her old self." Her eyes, though still that unusual green, were calmer and her pupils smaller. Her movements were more hesitant again, more graceful and less thought out. Even the way she spoke was softer. And she looked exhausted, as though all her energy had been drained.

"But how?" Peter asked. He couldn't get his head around that; she'd just slept and then woken up disenchanted. That was impossible. "How has she become herself again?"

"Maybe we'll never know," Susan suggested. She wanted the whole business sorted out so Emma could leave and go home again. Her arrival had caused too much upset.

"But we need to!" Peter insisted. "If we don't know, how will we ever solve another problem like this?"

"By killing them, probably," Edmund suggested pointedly.

Peter looked at his brother apologetically. "I'm sorry, Ed."

"I know." Edmund nodded. "I've got an idea how Emma's back to her old self again. But I'm going to talk to her first, see what she can tell me. She must have some idea."

Peter nodded reluctantly. "Okay. But remember we don't know if she's well again. So be careful."

Seeing as Edmund had all but avoided her since she woke up after her "illness", Emma was surprised when he suggested they go for a walk on the beach. It was what she'd wanted to do since she'd arrived here, of course, go for a long walk along that beautiful endless expanse of sand. How jealous would Amber be if she could see it! This beat Spain hands down!

Emma walked in the shallows of the sea, enjoying the feeling of the sand squidging between her toes. The bottom of the dress she'd borrowed from Lucy was getting soaked, but that was to be expected on the beach. Emma didn't let it trouble her too much.

Edmund watched her for a while, not saying anything. She looked the picture of health again, pink cheeks and sparkling eyes. Her hair was tumbling over her shoulders as ever, and glinted golden in the sunlight. She really was very pretty.

Emma caught him looking and looked over with a challenging smile. "What's up?" she asked. "Why do you keep looking at me like that?"

"I don't"," Edmund felt his neck begin to burn and he prayed the redness wouldn't spread across his face like it used to when he was younger. "I was just thinking how nice it was to see you looking so well again."

"I feel great." Emma nodded, grinning. She turned away to look out to sea. Obviously no one knew about her betrayal, they just thought she'd been ill. Maybe she could keep it that way… A wave suddenly lapped against her much harder than any of the others. She jumped out of the water instinctively.

"What's wrong?" Edmund frowned.

"Nothing." Emma shook her head firmly. "Just a larger than usual wave."

They continued walking along. Eventually, Emma couldn't resist it any longer and asked the question that had been threatening to spill out since they'd begun this walk.

"Edmund, why have you been avoiding me?"

"I didn't know I had," he lied.

"You have. You've walked out of every room I've walked into since I woke up."

"It's been very busy around the castle," Edmund replied, trying to brush it off. Maybe Emma herself had no idea what had happened to her. Maybe this was a stupid idea.

"Has it?" Emma sounded doubtful. She finally plucked up the courage to say, "Edmund, are you afraid of me?"

"What?" Edmund looked surprised. "Me? I… no."

"You're lying," Emma said softly.

"I'm not!" Edmund protested. "I could have your head chopped off for that you know! Insulting the king! That's tantamount to treason!" He grinned to show he was teasing.

Emma flinched at the word treason and she knew it. Meeting his eyes, she knew she looked guilty as hell. But instead of looking surprised, Edmund instead looked… understanding?

"I know what you did, Emma," he said gently. "We all do."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Emma faked indifference, and threw a stone along the beach.

"It wasn't your fault," Edmund continued. "You can't blame yourself, Emma, you've nothing to feel guilty for."

"I know, I don't." Emma was determined not to drop her act. "I was ill, that was all, I couldn't help that! It's not like I…"

"Was part of a plot to destroy Narnia as we know it?" Edmund interrupted her.

Emma met his eye again and she knew the game was up.

"I know you must hate me," she said quietly. "You all must, especially Peter. I can't believe I'd do something so bad, I wasn't aware I was doing it until afterwards. I mean that's no excuse, I still tried to… to…"

"It's okay," Edmund insisted. "You don't need to feel guilty."

"But I tried to destroy your family!" Emma cried. "I tried to destroy Narnia! Of course I feel guilty! I deserve to die, Edmund, for what I've done! It's treason! I'm a traitor to this country!"

"I know," Edmund agreed. "Emma, believe me, I know exactly how you feel…"

"How?" Emma demanded, "How can you possibly know how guilty and remorseful and disgusted with myself I am? You can't, you can't possibly know!"

"When I first came to Narnia, I betrayed my whole family and nearly destroyed Narnia forever," Edmund said, surprisingly calmly compared to how he felt.

"What?" Emma looked at him incredulously, tears rolling down her cheeks.

Edmund sighed. "I think it's probably time I explained a few things, Emma."