WE EXCUSE ourselves from the company of the centaur brothers and they bid a quick farewell in return, Suncloud sending me a suggestive smirk that makes me wish I had something to hurl at him.

Edmund squeezes my hand and leans down to murmur in my ear. "You look beautiful."

Cheeks flushed, I lean into his side. "Thank you. You look nice, too. Brown goes well with your eyes."

The outfit he's wearing is much better than the one he interrupted our fitting with. Instead of white and burnt orange, it's warm brown and tan. His jerkin is an intricate brocade with a dark belt wrapped around his waist, and a tan undershirt with a standing collar and full, cuffed sleeves.

The floor has been vacated of the wild dancing that once claimed it, the Old Narnian songs traded for Telmarine. I notice Caspian and Susan among the partners gliding across the space, and only then do I realize one very important detail I've missed.

I glance up at Edmund. "You can dance, right?"

He scoffs, sliding his arm around my waist and pulling me close to him as we step onto the dance floor. "Of course I can."

His self-assuredness makes me roll my eyes. "Of course you can," I muse sarcastically. "What ever was I thinking?"

The king laughs, propelling us along with the rest of the dancers. I've never been one for the close-contact dance of atar, having to surrender what little control I have to my partner. The village children I practiced with used to get mad at me for always trying to lead the dance. But I just couldn't help it; I felt like a trained dog letting someone else tell me what to do with myself. But for once, with Edmund, it feels like dancing. Perhaps because I know him like I know myself and trust him to guide me, or because taking his hand feels like my choice instead of a woman's duty. Or maybe it's that I've finally learned to let go — that I don't always need the reins of control grasped tightly in my hands — and let someone else be my compass.

"You're driving me mad what that look," Edmund says, shaking his head the slightest bit as he searches my eyes. "What in the world are you thinking?"

I stick my chin up, taking in the way his dark hair falls across his forehead and his eyes reflect the light of the torches and candles filling the hall, his skin shining a pale gold and turning his freckles dark. "I'm thinking I don't mind dancing with you," I declare, making him grin. "Even though you're horrible at it."

His expression turns into a mischievous smirk. "Horrible?" He repeats, raising an amused eyebrow at me. "Really?"

"I believe that's the word I used, yes."

He seems to consider this for a moment before nodding. "Alright." And before I can draw in the breath to form a response, his grip on my hand tightens and he shifts his arm around my waist, all but flinging me outward in a dazzling spin. I hold my breath in shock, his hand finding mine again and halting my rotations, then pulling me back to him. I think it's over but then he raises our connected hands overhead and twists me around so, with his arm wrapped around me, he pulls me back against his chest, still swaying in time with the music.

Ed lowers his mouth to my ear, and though his voice is low, I can feel the vibrations in his chest as he speaks. "Why have you been avoiding me since yesterday?"

I bite my tongue, still in a daze and trying to avoid all the watching eyes of the Narnians and Telmarines who have never seen such a spin used in atar before. Damn you, Edmund Pevensie.

He squeezes my hip before giving a gentle nudge and spinning me back around to face him. I'm nervous to see his reaction, but he doesn't look angry or annoyed — just worried.

"You've been trying to close yourself off from it," he murmurs, slipping his hand back into place around my waist.

In the back of my mind, on that tether between us I've been trying so hard to ignore, I feel a little prod from him for emphasis.

I swallow thickly, searching for my voice and the heart to explain everything. "It was too much," I admit softly. "I couldn't handle feeling everything all the time. I just...needed a break."

His eyebrows pull together and I can almost see the pieces fitting together in his mind. "You spoke to Aslan?"

I nod my head, fiddling with the material of his jerkin where my hand rests on his shoulder — the same hand that bears the mark. "Do you know why you never knew chimæras existed in Narnia?"

Edmund shakes his head, partially focused on keeping us from colliding with other dancers.

"They left when the Witch was freed from the north so she couldn't use them in her army — hiding, just like they are now." I inhale a deep breath, closing my eyes momentarily as I build up the strength to speak the words I've been so haunted by since they were first uttered. "Edmund, I'm not a Narnian. I'm not even from this world. Aslan didn't create chimæras when he sang everything into being."

The king's eyebrows pull together, his mouth drawn into a confused frown from the flood of information. "What do you mean?"

I trace the threads of his jerkin with my fingers, hoping to distract myself from the much harder truth I have to tell him eventually. "While she was banished to the Wild Lands of the North, Jadis opened a door and stole us from our world, casting a spell to enslave us to her will and use in her army. It weakened with distance, so they escaped to Narnia. And then when she came here, they ran further."

He looks dumbstruck, realization washing over him. But before he can muster anything to say, he has to release me and fit both his hands around my waist while I place mine on his shoulders. And all at once, with the rise of the stringed rebecs, the dancers crowding the floor lift their partners into the air as they turn.

Doing this lift with the village boys usually ended up in bloody scrapes and tears from falling. As children, we were unbalanced and had bodies only used for running and playing games and climbing trees. Now, after all our training with combat and swordplay, we no longer have to worry about that. In fact, it's almost effortless.

Edmund shows no sign of strain as he sets me back on my feet, taking my hand again for a single, quick spin before settling back into the usual steps.

I'm not surprised to find him still taken aback, his brown eyes with a faraway look in them. Still, the king guides me along through atar without any stumbling or hesitation in his footsteps.

"The spell must have been passed along through generations if she could still control you," he says, his eyes finally seeming to refocus on me. "Dunno how, but...that would explain quite a bit."

I nod numbly, gaze drifting over his shoulder where I see Caspian and Susan dancing together. They wear the largest smiles I've ever seen, the unmistakable glimmer of love in their eyes as they talk. It makes me irrationally angry with myself. I should have told Edmund everything this morning, or even yesterday. I should have told him sooner and let all my emotions out instead of letting them fester and grow and make a mess of a night that should be spent celebrating. I should be enjoying this moment just like they are, not ruining it for the both of us.

"Hey."

A squeeze on my hand.

I look back at him. "Sorry. I don't...I never meant to–"

"It's fine," Edmund insists softly, his hand on my back burning with warmth. "We'll have plenty of opportunities to dance again."

The rebec musicians lighten their bows, the string instruments growing quieter for the recorders and shawms to be heard. And I notice, to my surprise, the Narnian pan flute and drums have been incorporated to join the traditional Telmarine song.

As if knowing exactly what I need, the dark-haired king pulls me closer to him, removing all the distance between us so I can lay my head against his chest and relax into him.

"Don't ever think you're not a Narnian," he tells me. "You fought and gave so much for this country. You have as much right to call Narnia your home as the trees do; where your ancestors are from doesn't determine that."

I manage a laugh, his familiar scent helping to comfort me. "How do you always know what I'm thinking?"

Edmund guides us across the floor, keeping in time with the music. "I can still feel you," he murmurs, referring to the tether. "Even if you can't."

The link between us has been all I could feel the last few days. Whenever I was near him, it was all I could focus on — the constant ebb and flow of emotions between us, like an ocean I have no idea how to tread. My head was slipping under the surface and it was all I could do to stay afloat. I had to distance myself from it, remember what it's like to only worry about whatever I'm feeling. And at first, it felt like losing an eye. I was unbalanced and it seemed as if I could only see half of what I was supposed to. I guess I never considered how much I'd miss it, either.

Because looking up into his dark eyes, I want to know just what he's feeling and how I can help. But I also know if I could feel everything, I would have forgotten how to speak and I might never have made it this far. It's better like this, at least for now until I can manage my own recovery and issues. Just for now.

Right on cue, I step back so Edmund can join the rest of the dancers in genuflecting to their partners.

He stands back up, resuming the dance. "I know that's not the only reason you've been avoiding me," he says. "What's still bothering you?"

I hesitate, biting the inside of my cheek in an incredibly unladylike manner. "Are you sure you want to hear the rest of it now? I've already ruined most of our dance."

He tips his head back and groans dramatically. "Arryn, you haven't ruined it," he declares fiercely. "But you will if you keep thinking that."

"Okay." And with a steadying breath, I start before I can lose my nerve. "Apparently, chimæras can reincarnate sometimes. And that's what happened to me. I was alive in a past life when the Golden Age began and I went to a hermit in Archenland, thinking he could help remove the Witch's spell.

"He had a pool of water in his garden, and it could show him what was going on anywhere in the world, but only in the present time. I came to him during a rare conjunction of stars in the sky and on the night of a special moon. The alignment let him see a short glimpse of the future, and he said it showed me resurrecting Jadis at the Stone Table. The hermit told me of a spell that might help when the time came and sent me to Pomona."

"Pomona?" Edmund repeats. "The dryad at Cair Paravel?"

I nod. "She was the most powerful magic-user in Narnia and...she was close to you."

He swallows, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as his eyes dart anxiously between mine. They say continue and I don't want to, but I know I can't stop now.

"She agreed to help, and we went to the castle one night and found you. The Hermit thought if I could anchor my mind to something — someone who had faced the Witch and was strong enough to withstand her influence — I might keep enough of my mind from her control to stop myself from resurrecting her."

He shakes his head the tiniest bit, and I can see in his disbelieving eyes that he doesn't know what to think. "Why can't I remember it, then?"

His reaction terrifies me, but I tell myself it's because he's in shock. I remember what Susan told me and keep going despite my worries. "Aslan said it's a side effect of the binding spell. Magic concerning the mind is confusing and complex; it made us forget everything that night. And Pomona thought it would be best to keep it that way, so to hide the scar you got from the ritual, she broke the handle of your teacup at breakfast the next morning. And when the unhealed cuts broke open on it, you all assumed that's where they came from."

Edmund looks past me, reeling at everything I just said. And I honestly can't blame him; I stayed up almost all night thinking about what Aslan told me (and worrying about how Ed would react, of course).

I stay quiet, watching his face and letting him take a minute.

Finally, I think he's going to say something, and he just lets out a long sigh and meets my gaze. "That's a lot," he breathes.

I lift my eyebrows, letting out my own sigh. "Yeah."

The king searches my eyes, and I don't miss the hesitancy in his voice when he speaks. "So what's this spell Pomona cast on us?"

"Aslan called it a binding spell and said it was like building a bridge over a stream, or something." I shrug, trying to remember our conversation from yesterday. "It makes a connection between two minds. There isn't a way to remove it, though. I already asked, and he –"

"Ryn, I don't want to remove it."

I stumble a little, but Edmund is quick to tighten his arm around me and keep me steady. He must feel the flood of relief that rushes through me because there's a smile on his face when I look up at him. I almost can't believe it.

"You don't?"

"Of course not." He grins a teasing, lopsided grin I haven't seen in too long. "How else am I supposed to tell when you're mad at me?"

I roll my eyes, feeling a laugh creep up my throat. "Honestly? You're not lying?"

Edmund shakes his head, pulling me closer. "If we didn't have this, I'd still be trying to figure out your favourite colour."

"What is my favourite colour?"

His smile widens. "Green," he answers, and then he's pulling me through a spin I'm not expecting. I think the music has stopped and the floor has begun to clear, I can't be sure but I also don't care much about the world outside Edmund's arms. Not right now.

"So that's why you've been avoiding me?" He asks. "You thought I'd want to find a way to get rid of the connection?"

"I don't know what I thought would happen," I admit quietly, unwilling to look anywhere except the brown and gold of his irises. "I was worried you'd think everything between us wasn't really real — that the spell was fabricating emotions and feelings. I don't know. I couldn't decide how to tell you everything."

The king fixes me with a fierce look, and I don't need to open myself to the link to know he's both furious and heartbroken that I would think such a thing.

He lifts his hands to my face, cradling my jaw gently. "Arryn, you are the most real thing I've felt in years," he murmurs, stroking a strand of hair behind my ear. "What do I have to do to make you believe that?"

I nod fervently. "That's good." My voice is quiet and shaky from the tears brimming in my eyes. My heart beating like it's going to burst into flames. "That's enough."

Smiling, Edmund wounds his arms around me in a tight hug. "Good."

"You know you make it so hard to stay friends," I joke, doing my best to hold back my tears so they don't stain his clothes.

He chuckles and tightens the embrace. "I know. Where should we go to watch the fireworks?"

"Do we have time to climb one of the towers?"

In answer, a loud bang can be heard just outside. The few Telmarines and Narnians remaining in the hall begin to murmur excitedly and rush to the nearest window to watch the show.

Edmund loosens his arms, allowing me to pull on his arm and start for one of the exits. "Come on; there's a balcony over here."

"Well, it better be close!" He says, following me as I pick up my skirt and race for the door. The fireworks are in full swing outside the castle walls, but luckily the viewing spot I have in mind is only just outside the hall. And by the time we reach it, laughing and gasping for air, we're just in time for the very best part.

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author's note

whew that turned out much longer than i thought it would be yikes

hopefully it wasn't boring

ok i tried my best to be historically accurate with the ballroom dancing and the music and stuff, but...i wanted that stupid cliché scene with the love interests slow dancing together and being all mushy and romantic. i'll admit it. i'm such a sucker for that trope ugh

so i created atar, a telmarine dance involving two partners dancing in close quarters. i based it on stuff like the jive (1940s) so it had a little more authenticity. but medieval europe did not have anything like couple dancing so i had to improvise/say f*ck it because i don't care. it's narnia. they have literal magic and talking animals, i think they can be a few decades ahead in the dancing department and no one would bat an eye lmao

i thought the fireworks from the movie were innacurate but apparently they were being made in europe in the 13th/14th century which is so weird lol i never realized how old fireworks are

but yeah, hope y'all were hit in the feels with this chapter because i sure was

fingers crossed i can get the next chapter done for tuesday! love you guys! i appreciate all your support for me and this story so much!