A/N: So, I made a playlist for this story on Spotify! My username on there is Ceara_Einin, and the actual link is on the Ao3 site for this story (thanks ffn for the link rules). Eventually I might do an aesthetic one on YouTube, but Spotify was quicker so here we are. There's roughly one song for each chapter; right now, I only have 24 songs up as that's how long this first part of WGCBS is. I'll update the playlist with the new songs when I post the first chapter of a section.
Chapter 4 Content Warnings: reference to Chapter 2, (unrelated) mention of possible pregnancy and wanting children
Chapter 4: the lonesome road
Addie
The first day of her new assignment dawns later than usual. Bruna doesn't start until Caspian's left for breakfast, so Addie doesn't need to be up with the sun. She offered to help Bruna gather the clean bed linens but she waved her off, saying her hands were better help setting the room to rights.
Claudia and Lola don't linger as they dress. Anna's far too nervously punctual to let a little thing like curiosity over Addie's new schedule distract her.
"We'll be late." Anna stands by the door ready to rush out, but she doesn't leave. She goes nowhere without one of them by her side.
"What'll you be doing, though?" Claudia, however, finds time for questions in between shoving on her shoes. "Back to floor mopping?"
Addie knows she means nothing by it. Still, her skin prickles. "If there's a mop in my hands again, I won't be using it on the floor."
Lola raises an eyebrow as she ties her hair back and pushes the ends under her cap. "Addie, best not antagonise a royal. Isn't this good? It's a higher station, technically."
"Maybe." Addie gets dressed too, never mind that she still has half an hour before she needs to leave her bed. It's strange being the only one not rushing off to the kitchen. "Doesn't feel like one."
"Then make it feel like one." Claudia ties on her apron with practiced fingers and turns to leave. "Enjoy the morning, live a little! At least one of us can watch the sunrise." Claudia bustles out hand-in-hand with Anna before Addie can argue - not uncommon, but it still seems so quick. Dismissive, if Addie let herself overthink things.
Lola lingers a moment. "Claudia's right," she says. "Enjoy it. You'll hardly see the prince anyway, and I doubt you'll be mopping again." She reaches over and tucks one of Addie's curls back behind her cap, like it's a normal morning and Addie's overslept. Lola's the best at keeping hair out of faces. Years ago, it was Lola's nimble fingers that taught Addie how to twist her curls so a single hair tie kept them tamed.
Addie tries to turn the gravel in her tight throat into grumpiness, because that's so much better than getting blubbery over something as simple as a different morning routine. "Like I said," she grumbles, "if I am, I'll shove that mop up his -"
Lola deals a stinging flick to Addie's ear. "Play nice. He's not like his uncle; everyone knows that."
"He got me scolded." Addie knots her apron as Lola ties on her own. "Mr. Flowers won't chop off my head, but he still gets me in trouble with Perla."
"All nobles do that." Lola steadies herself against Addie's shoulder as she adjusts her left shoe. "Besides, you like trouble. So stop grousing and greet the day."
Addie smooths her apron and glances to the door. "You greet the day. I'm not the one running late."
Lola dashes away with a curse, though she calls back one last insistent, "Play nice!"
Technically, she'll be working. But Addie doesn't see the point in correcting an empty room.
Addie finds herself on Bruna's heels in the servant passageway outside Caspian's study. Her punctuality is, in a word, perfect.
"We'll do the bed first," Bruna explains as the hidden door in the bookshelf creaks open. "That's the hardest to do alone."
It's not so messy as she expected, considering this is a prince who's probably never made his own bed in his life. He left the linens pulled up over the pillows, the bed barely mussed.
"His Highness is tidier than some," says Bruna. "Doesn't enjoy making work for me. Though it's not much work." Bruna casts a glance so pointed Addie couldn't have ignored it even if she wanted to. "Certainly not enough to warrant two."
Addie shrugs. Hopefully her ears are less red than they feel. She shouldn't be flushing, given that none of this was originally her idea.
"It's not. He meant it as a… favour, of sorts." When the silence stretches beyond the bed stripping and the dirty linens seem to stare back at her, Addie caves. "A soldier put me in a… an uncomfortable position. I suppose the prince thought he was helping."
Bruna hums as she pulls the fresh linens from the basket. "Sounds like him. He has a soft heart, that one. Inconvenient as it is in a place like this."
When Addie finishes refolding the linen around the lower corner of the bed, she finds Bruna's smile is welcoming. "Four hands make lighter work. I'm glad you're here."
Addie smiles and smooths the last wrinkles from the linen. "I suppose I am too."
"You'll not find a kinder posting in all the castle," Bruna says. She pulls a clean blanket onto the bed and tosses the other end to Addie. "Not even with the Lady Prunaprismia."
Addie snorts and yanks the blanket harder than perhaps is necessary. "The wife of Lord Miraz? Kind?"
"She is not her husband. She's far more a lady than he is a lord."
On instinct, Addie glances around the room before remembering they're alone. She's no stranger to speaking carelessly about the nobility, but she's never indulged in it this deep into the castle.
Bruna purses her mouth. "We're not likely to be overheard here. But I'd not say such things in the halls."
Addie sweeps her hands over the blanket until it's laid out as perfectly as the linen beneath it. "Lord Miraz has guards patrolling the square around the well." Most patrols are there for the money and the steady meals, but a few have the loyal streak or the opportunism to sell out dissenters.
"Yes," says Bruna, "but this is not the well, is it?"
Addie's mouth quirks at the corners. "No. I suppose it's not."
Bruna sends her into the study the moment they have the bed put to rights. Addie goes without complaint, if only because she didn't have time to explore the study yesterday. Bruna showed her how to dust and fluff and wipe the windows without streaking, and then Addie was preoccupied with giving that prince a tongue-lashing he deserved. Now dusting the whole place down, books and scrolls and desk and chair alike, presents a marvellous opportunity to poke around. What better way to figure out what goes through the prince's head than nosing around papers he doesn't expect other people to see?
She'll be careful. He'll never know, and if the prince doesn't know, Addie won't be thrown in the dungeon.
There's a bookish smell to the place, musky and rich with an undercurrent of smoke - courtesy of the candle nub, no doubt. The prince's affinity for tidiness in his sleeping area doesn't extend to his studies; scrolls and parchment and open books flood the surface of his desk. Addie dusts the desk legs, but she can't see a single inch of wood underneath the prince's study materials. Didn't need another maid - what nonsense. He needs a personal librarian. Perhaps a scribe, too.
Addie squints at a book shoved to one corner of the desk, ornately designed and written in swirling ink. The script curls around itself too much to make out the letters, but a creased piece of parchment says something about "History" before devolving into unintelligible notes scribbled in smudged letters. Addie leans in, trying to make out the words. Not that a history of the Telmarines (what else would a prince be studying?) particularly interests her, but she rarely gets to practice her reading. She doesn't like to advertise the skill, but there's no harm in indulging for a few minutes. Most of her practice has been stray papers around the castle or labels of food in the pantry or buttery. These letters, however, are so cluttered with unnecessary swirls and dots that she can't make the words out. If she squints, she can piece together "great" and "history of Telmar" and something about other Caspians. Thrilling material.
The four scrolls scattered about aren't much better. One is even more over-decorated than the History, and the others are more reasonable but still beyond her. She needs simpler letters.
Addie remembers herself and stops to listen. Bruna is still puttering around the bedroom, close enough to see if she's slacking off. Best get the work done now and snoop later.
She dusts the chair, every swirl and twist of the carved eagle down to the bowed legs. She dusts the bookshelves, scanning the titles as she goes when she can make them out. A Brief History of C-something, A-something-land History and Politics, The Telmarine Royal Line, The Great Telmarine Something. Unsurprising material. But when she reaches the bottom shelves, she finds books tucked behind the others, barely visible except when the light shines just right. Addie gets down on her knees.
Interesting.
Addie pulls a few books out, and sure enough, the books hidden in the back differ from the others. For one, she can actually read them: The Golden Age of Narnia, Tales of the Great Lion, The Hundred-Year Winter. These titles don't sound like the usual Telmarine fare; Addie's heard nothing about a great lion or a hundred-year winter, but Narnia is the kingdom's name, so there's something there. The books' colouring is different too - red leather binding with gold lettering, not the black and silver of the Telmarine tomes. And a Golden Age? Some soldiers mention the conquest centuries ago or the time of peace, but no Golden Age.
Soft footsteps sound near the door. Addie shoves the books back into place and sweeps her rag along the top as if that's all she was doing.
"I'm taking the linens to the wash. Do you mind finishing up?"
Addie straightens. Bruna is quite efficient if she's finished the bedroom already. Though, to be fair, it looked far cleaner than the study. "Not at all. Tomorrow?"
"Same time, if you please. It's good to have you, Addie." Bruna whisks out through the bookshelf door before Addie can return the sentiment, but it sets warmth blooming in her chest anyway.
"Likewise," Addie whispers to the books before her. In time, this new routine may turn out well.
Fortunately, now that she's alone in the prince's study she's free to discover what this Golden Age was. A time long ago... Before the conquest, perhaps. Before the Telmarines?
Addie pulls the strange book free, curiosity tingling in her fingertips. After the first few pages, she can't put it down. After the impossible twists of the Telmarine script, words in a cleaner, softer script she can read is too good to pass up. Besides, this book tells of a time long passed when Narnians were strange beasts, some with half-human forms, others talking animals, and still other creatures she has no name for. Tall, thin folk called Marshwiggles, humanoids as tall as five men called Giants, dwarfs, goblins. Strange creatures beyond count, like nothing she's ever seen in person or illustrated. Four royals atop battle chargers lead them - the Kings and Queens of Old, the book calls them. Four sibling rulers of Narnia whose fifteen-year rule was known as the Golden Age for all the good they brought. Setting aside the strangeness of four siblings ruling without beheading or poisoning each other (something of a Telmarine tradition from what little she knows), their tale alone is odd. The book speaks of them as children from another land called Spare Oom, brought to Narnia by a prophecy and the will of a lion named Aslan. Stranger still, they vanished in Lantern Waste chasing a white stag and were never seen again. Some think they returned to Spare Oom, says the book. Others believe they went to join Aslan and they'll return when the Great Lion does. Still others think they abandoned Narnia altogether.
Spare Oom. The name rolls through Addie's mind like oil skittering over a hot pan. Short for Spare Room, most likely, which doesn't sound like the name of another land. Probably just some tall tale warped over the centuries.
Addie shuts the book and tucks it back in place. This travelling to other lands business probably isn't a good idea; dreamland, for example, never turns out well for her, not with the flaming city and that strange wailing echoing through the rubble -
Useless musings. Addie finishes the dusting in a hurry, from the window and its seat to the very tops of the bookshelves. His Royal Highness will have to forgive the use of his chair as a step stool. Still, she fluffs the seat cushion until her footprints disappear.
Addie runs her dusting rag over the bird carving at the chair's back once more for good measure. The rag snags over a cluster of splinters where one wing should be. Should she have it fixed somehow? Nothing snapped when she used the chair, and there's no wing piece lying around. It can't have been her doing. She'll have to ask Bruna in the morning; lunch hour is coming soon, and she'll be late to the kitchen unless she flies through the castle halls.
She tries, but Perla scolds her just the same. At least some things never change.
"Lola, where was it you found me?" Addie whispers the forbidden question when Perla is occupied by the venison stew and ensuring Anna properly apportions the seasoning. Their bread kneading should cover the conversation.
Lola takes a handful of flour and sprinkles it over the dough balls. "In the city, remember?" she murmurs. "Everything okay? You've never asked -"
Perla's spatula strikes, and just like that the conversation is over.
Addie waits until the lunch rush dies down and they find a rare lull to get some fresh air. Perla's stew days are worse in the mornings, but the afternoon usually brings an extra half hour for their lunch; there's less to do with dinner already bubbling over the hearth.
Cocket loaves in hand, Addie follows Lola to one of the courtyard's shady spots across from the castle gate, close enough to the kitchen they can hear Perla's call amid the day's bustle but far enough for a relatively private conversation. With the afternoon sun, the shade barely stretches long enough to cover them. The sunlight heats the tops of Addie's feet through her shoes as she asks again.
"Where was I, back then?"
"City streets. I thought you didn't like to talk about it." Lola bumps Addie's shoulder, frowning around a mouthful of coarse bread. "Why's it matter now?"
Addie shrugs, leaning her head back against the cool stone wall. Her fist-sized loaf sits unbroken in her hands. "Just curious."
The weight of Lola's gaze tilts toward unsettling; she knows how much Addie hates asking.
"Mother was taking me to the castle, since I turned the working age and we needed the money. We saw you crouched in an alley, looking lost as anything. It seemed the decent thing to do, and the castle always needs more servants."
"Charitable," Addie hums, letting her eyes drift shut so she can pretend this whole conversation doesn't dig knives between her ribs. She rips off a chunk of bread, chewing through the ashen taste of helplessness.
Lola's stare prickles her skin, but Addie keeps her eyes closed.
"You needed help. I needed company in a strange place." Lola bumps her hip, her loaf already half gone. "Your clothes were shredded beyond recognition, but the street orphans don't stick to skirts and pants like we do. It's whatever they can find, you know?"
"Yes," Addie murmurs. "I know." Addie clears her throat against the sudden thickness and asks about Alfonso.
Lola's smile is a radiant thing as she brushes crumbs from her fingertips and turns back toward the sunlight, all musings of the past gone. "I think those seeds took root."
Addie almost chokes on her mouthful of bread. By Tash, does she mean -?
Lola laughs, short and loud. "In the well, silly. Don't look so shocked."
"Yours or the one in the courtyard?" Addie swallows around a half-chewed bite when the words finally cooperate, but the sticky worry lingers in the back of her mouth. If that's what Lola wants maybe it's fine, but usually those things get started with some official joining, more official than seed throwing. They're still young, and how could either of them take care of a baby with their schedules, and the money -
"The one in the courtyard," Lola answers, her cheeks dusted pink. "Though I think I wouldn't mind mine either."
Addie's fingers find a loose thread on her skirt and tug. "So things are official? Between you two?"
"As official as they can be. I'd like to think we don't need anything else." Lola stretches her legs out flat until the sun comes up to her knees, dancing over the sparse hair just visible where her skirt rides up over her ankles.
How long have they known each other, really? Lola's been mooning over him for months, but did they spend all that time getting close? Addie wraps the loose thread tight around her finger until the tip throbs.
"It seems fast," Addie admits. She stuffs the other half of her lunch into her mouth so her teeth have something productive to do.
Lola's smile doesn't falter. "I guess so," she says. "But time moves different with him. I felt like I'd known him forever from the start."
Addie twirls the thread tighter, but it doesn't snap. Lola seems distant now. She's talking of things beyond the kitchen and the quiet nights giggling together until Claudia threw her shoe at them, or the heavier nights when Lola woke her when Addie thrashed in her sleep. Lola was there when she rambled about fire and a screaming city made of smoke and houses thrice as tall as they should be. And now Lola is somewhere else.
Addie spends longer than she should casting about for something to keep the conversation going.
"He always seemed so shy when I saw him. Or mannered. Or both, I guess." Addie tugs harder until the thread snaps off and the pressure around her finger eases.
"I thought so too, at first." Lola's giggle is more musical than it has a right to be, all tinkling joy like the wind chimes down in the marketplace. "It's endearing, isn't it? I mean, when do kitchen maids get treated like ladies?" Lola lifts her right hand until her palm hides the sun and warm rays burst between her fingers. "And besides, he gets this little blush on the back of his neck when he bows."
Unbidden, Addie's mouth finds a smile as the twisting in her stomach slows. Lola's smiling like someone went to the trouble to hang the sun in the sky just for her. She's happy; Alfonso seems to treat her well. She deserves someone sweet, someone who loves her utterly.
"Best of luck with those seeds, then."
Lola positively beams. Even Perla's holler can't break her mood, nor the insistent rap of the spatula on the kitchen door frame. Addie gets to her feet first and tugs Lola up after her. It's a good thing.
It's not like Alfonso is close with Marcos. He's sweet, and she's happy. It's a good thing.
Addie has to consciously keep her smile up as they hurry back inside.
Caspian
Doctor Cornelius was overly generous with homework. Caspian makes straight for his study the moment he's free from lessons in the hour before dinner. If he starts right away, he can finish his annotations before the night grows too old, or the morning too young. Doctor Cornelius said they won't stargaze tonight, but even without the lost sleep Caspian could do with a solid rest.
At first, he thinks nothing of the scrolls and parchments and books on his desk. Doctor Cornelius is not known for his orderly study, and while Caspian tries to keep his room in some order so Bruna - and now Addie - doesn't have to spend all day cleaning up his messes, his study is another matter. There seems little use in putting all his writings up when he'll have to take them out for lessons the next morning anyway. And if his papers cover the desk, that's one less thing for Bruna to worry about. She seemed pleased when he mentioned not to bother with the desk.
It's such a small thing. A parchment at an angle slightly different from this morning. The History of Telmar tucked further under his notes. Easy to miss, and easily some movement he can't recall.
But Caspian has grown up with an uncle who might kill him, given the chance. He's learned to keep a careful eye on his things, to always watch for little inconsistencies. After all, it was his own ill-advised slip of the tongue that brought his uncle's wrath on his childhood nurse.
Bruna wouldn't have moved the papers, not unless her loyalties shifted. Which leaves one person with recent access to his chambers he can be sure of.
Caspian draws in steady breaths. He mustn't jump too quickly to conclusions. Addie doesn't seem the spying type; she's far too outspoken. Reckless, really. No spy worth their salt would have stood in his bedroom and taken him to task for bringing her under his wing, or trying to. A spy would have accepted the new assignment, perhaps offered a word or two of thanks, and gone quietly along to snoop.
All the same, Caspian rushes to his bookshelf and pulls texts free until his Narnian books glimmer softly in the candlelight. Unmoved, exactly where they should be, but the Golden Age seems slightly askew. Easy enough to miss, but this is no innocuous account of Telmarine history.
His hand trembles as he pulls the Narnian book free and flips through its pages. There is not the usual comfort of the worn pages or the soft flourishes so different from the thicker Telmarine script. Yet no pages are missing, not even a tear. If Addie looked through this, it wasn't to take hard evidence back to his uncle. Caspian closes the book and carefully tucks it away.
Servants can't read; none of the household staff can. Miraz saw no use in it, and even his aunt thought little of the notion when Caspian wondered about it as a boy. If this was indeed Adelina, perhaps she can. Unless she was searching for incriminating objects? No, Narnian sympathies would be far more damning.
Better to find out. Better to test her loyalties and be sure.
Caspian finds a scrap of paper amid the mess and scrawls a quick note, warping his letters so it appears someone else wrote it to him. If a spy shows up to the west tower at midnight, then he'll know not to trust Addie. Caspian slips the note under his papers so only a corner pokes from the edge of his desk. Noticeable for anyone looking, but innocuous otherwise.
Perhaps Miraz is growing bolder already.
Caspian dresses for dinner with the other nobility and hurries out the door. He has connections to make.
Chapter 5 Preview:
When Addie sinks into the window seat, Caspian comes around and sits in his chair. He says nothing at first, for long enough Addie wonders if his manners insist on silent study. But then he answers, so softly she almost misses it as she leans over the page and tracks the words with her finger.
"You may bother me whenever you wish."