A Night for Lovers

It was no longer a question of if it would happen. It was when. And how.

The days leading up to Susan and Peridan's nuptials were hazy days. Saedra did her duties: she socialized with ambassadors, laughed with Lucy, gossiped with Rahai, tended to Caulitha, watched Talia spar with Corin, and did all the things she should have. She even pretended all was well with Peter to avoid starting nasty rumors. But it wasn't real.

The only thing that was real to her was him. What she remembered as she went to bed was not what she had done that day, but it was the one glance that Edmund had sent her across the dance floor at the party that night; never mind that he had been dancing with Rahai at that very moment. It was the simmering look that he had shot her across his goblet at dinner, just as he had been bringing it to his lips. Those were the moments she was living for. He was the one she was living for. Everything else was superfluous. And if she had allowed herself to delve deeper into the meaning of what she was instigating, she would have hated herself. However, she ignored the significance of what was happening as far as it concerned her family, Narnia, and international relations with Archenland.

Susan's wedding turned out to be the wedding to end all weddings. It made Peter and Saedra's celebration positively infantile. It wasn't the number of guests, though the number was huge; it was the care in which it was put together. Susan was known for her parties, and this was the ultimate Queen Susan party. It started with the outdoor ceremony, which began just after the sun set. Susan held it in the large clearing that they had practiced archery in years before when Rabadash was visiting. It was bordered by tall blooming trees on all sides. The darkening air was sweet with spring, and fireflies and petals floated in it. Lanterns lit the clearing, giving it a romantic, cheery glow.

In the center of the clearing was where Oreius performed the rites. The seated guests circled the centaur and the bride and groom on all sides. Peter, Saedra, Talia, and Caulitha sat on the north side; Edmund and Rahai sat on the west side; and Lucy and Tumnus sat on the eastern side. The foreign nobles filled in the gaps, uncomfortable with sitting on the grass at first, but soon becoming enchanted with the magic of Narnia that was so palpable. The rest of the clearing was packed with Narnians, and the ones who couldn't get close enough would climb trees on the edges to see (if they had the capability, of course).

Throughout the whole service, Saedra and Edmund's eyes would meet. Because of the distance, it was hard to tell what secrets he hid behind his dark eyes, but it didn't matter to her now. It was imminent.

After the beautiful, heart-felt ceremony that left half the audience in tears, the real party began. The food and drinks were brought out, the musicians began playing, and the bonfire was made even bigger. Saedra drank her wine happily, sitting with Lucy and Tumnus instead of dancing. It was Lucy's idea to wait, guaranteeing that it was best to save their energy at the beginning, and that the real dancing started at midnight.

Talia and her Archenlander friends were already frolicking, as teenagers who quickly feel the effects of wine do. Caulitha had already been put to bed by the nursemaid, so Saedra was free to enjoy herself. Peter was talking with a group of nobles across the lawn, but she chose to shove all thoughts of him from her mind. Such ponderings were useless; someone else was on her mind.

"I've emptied my glass," Saedra said, her stomach happily warm with the wine. "Would anyone like me to refill theirs while I'm up?"

Tumnus and Lucy gratefully handed her theirs, and Saedra went off. She stopped along the way to greet Animals she knew, such as the aging Beavers and the Bears. She paused to watch the dancing: Edmund was twirling Rahai under his arm, and as he did so, his eyes shot up to look at her. The manner in which his eyes instantly found her gave her goose-bumps: he had been watching her and had known the very spot she was occupying.

When she finally made her way back to Lucy and the Faun, she paused when she heard her name.

"I don't think she's altered that much," Tumnus was saying. "She's still the Saedra we all know, deep down. Did you see how she was laughing with the Bears?"

"But still, dear Tumnus..." Lucy countered. "When she arrived from Archenland, there was no smile on her face for the longest time. It looked like she hadn't smiled all winter. And when she does smile, it never reaches her eyes—it's as if she doesn't really mean it in her heart."

"What do you expect, beloved Queen? She has lost a child. Even if she seemed the same as before, she and Peter will never be the same again. Observe how they barely look at each other."

"Oh, it does worry me so! I do wish things could go back to the way they were!"

"Do not romanticize the past, Lucy. Things were not as wonderful as we would like to remember."

The twenty-two year old Queen sighed. "You're right, as always-"

Saedra approached them, smiling and pretending not to have heard their conversation at all. "Here we go! Sorry I was delayed!"

Countless cups of wine later, as Lucy had promised, the real festivities began. Everyone went around the bonfire, arranging themselves in circles around it. Lucy and Tumnus rose, inviting Saedra to join. She promised that as soon as she finished her final glass she would join them. She backed up to the edge of the forest to watch with the foreign nobles who did not yet know the dance.

In the inner circle was Susan, Peridan, Talia, Corin, Aravis, Cor, Lucy, Tumnus, Edmund, and Rahai. There were numerous rings around theirs, getting larger the farther away from the fire. The music began a lively Narnian jig, and the rings began their steps, revolving in opposite directions around the fire.

"'Tis beautiful!" a woman commented near Saedra. "One never tires of a Narnian bonfire dance."

Saedra smiled, and looked to see that the woman was Princess Priyah of Telmar. "Have you been to one before, Princess?"

"Oh, yes," she smiled. "Years ago. Our ambassador came to meet the Four, and I accompanied him."

"I also accompanied an ambassador to meet the Four—the ambassador also happened to be my father. But that was almost fourteen years ago."

"Mine was more recent than that," Priyah said, staring at the dancers. "I was already grown."

"Then you are fortunate. I was still in my early adolescence, and made quite the spectacle of myself."

"Oh, age is of no importance to whether someone makes a fool of themselves..."

Saedra did not know how to respond to that. As far as she could remember, she had never heard of Priyah, so it was certainly not that big of a spectacle that Priyah could have made of herself. Perhaps Priyah was speaking of someone else.

Priyah broke out of her spell and looked at Saedra. "My Princess, why are you not dancing? Surely you know the steps."

"I have little desire to dance at the moment."

"I completely understand, your Highness. When one has suffered such a loss as yours, it is hard to be happy again. The pain never goes away, does it?"

Saedra shook her head. Priyah may have been referring to the loss of Willem, but Saedra was also unwillingly thinking of Peter.

Priyah continued. "And you feel as if you would do anything in the world to be happy again, but it seems impossible."

Saedra looked at her in surprise. "That's exactly how I feel! You're quite astute, Princess."

"I know the pain of loss. I've lost one whom I loved dearly," she replied. "One never fully recovers."

Saedra felt a sort of companionship with the petite woman. They watched the dance for a time. A while later, Peter exited the crowd, coming over.

"My Princess, may I have the next dance?"

Saedra's heart leapt. Could it be...? She made to accept, but before she could-

Priyah smiled and put her hand in Peter's. "You may, your Majesty."

It was as Peter led Priyah to the bonfire that Saedra realized that Peter had not intended to ask Saedra to dance in the least...and probably would never do so of his own will again.

The night continued, but Saedra simply watched; the reminder of Peter's rejection of her had dampened her spirits, and Edmund had been out of sight for hours. Saedra had been so sure that Edmund was hers, but she was beginning to wonder if she had misinterpreted his glances. Maybe he had thought about it, and decided that it was foolishness to be with Saedra! Perhaps, this very instant, he and Rahai had escaped the party like other couples were, relishing the warm night, the darkness, and the magical mood...

The joy and was pulsating through the air, swirling around the Dryads, the Fauns, the Naiads...but the joy was not for her. It was for those who already were happy, for those who wanted to celebrate. But how could Saedra celebrate? She watched from the darkness below a tree, arms wrapped around herself. No one noticed her, for she was still and hidden from the lanterns. The revelry continued, but no one cared that the High King's wife wasn't participating. It was humbling to see how she wasn't missed.

Susan's favorite song began, a tragic love song about a Lord of Narnia who had fought all Hades to win the love of a Lady, but in the end had found that the woman had died in his absence. It seemed to flow through Saedra, reflecting desire, love, hatred, despair. It seemed to mirror her own feelings this evening.

Out of nowhere, she felt warm breath tingle her ear.

"Dance with me."

She turned her head to find herself eye-to-eye with Edmund. She said nothing, but he intertwined his hand with hers, and slowly led her away from the festivities. Her heart pounded and her hand sweated as they walked through the forest, coming across smaller fires where other Narnians were celebrating the marriage of Queen Susan the Gentle. No one paid heed to the couple; tonight was a night for lovers, for couples to stow away unnoticed into the forest. As they went, the music did not dim, but was as loud as it had been at the main party. A magic carried the haunting love song across the forests.

Edmund led her out onto the white sand of the beach. In the distance to the south, Cair Paravel stood proudly above the waves that reflected the bright twinkling stars.

They began to dance, staring into each other's eyes. They didn't speak, but slowly moved to the rhythm, turning, basking in each other's presence. Saedra's breath was shallow; it was as if she was suffocating, but yet felt more alive than she had ever before. They were acutely aware of the touching of their bare hands as they danced, separating, coming together again, rubbing. Such a common-place touch, yet so electrifying.

Susan's song faded into another jollier one, but the lovers did not continue dancing. They stopped, feet covered in cool sand, basking in the air separating them. It was tantalizing as they stared at each other, both knowing what was going to happen, but waiting on the precipice.

Slowly their mouths met in a delicious kiss that began slowly but, like the other night on the beach, became more than they could handle. Ages that felt like seconds, and seconds felt like ages. Edmund pulled away, grabbing her hand again. They walked determinedly northward along the beach; Saedra did not know where they were going, but she knew what they would do. A smile graced her face, and she giggled and started running ahead, pulling him. He laughed and ran to meet her.

They were nearing a stretch of high sand dunes, and instead of going around, they went up and over. The wind whipped at their faces as they got higher, but then suddenly they were plunging down the other side, laughing as they were separated as they slid and rolled down to the bottom. Up the next dune they went, until they could no longer see the forest nor the sea; they were surrounded by dunes on all sides. They slid down once more, and Edmund caught her around the waist before she could start up the next one.

They studied each other, their smiles fading as they caught their breath. It was their final chance to turn back...but both had made their decision long before they came here. Before either knew what was happening, they were kissing, touching, falling onto the sand, struggling to free themselves of the prison of clothing.

The music continued all night, romantic, pulsating, haunting. It was the perfect soundtrack to their lovemaking.

Were it not for the sounds of the music in the distance, Saedra and Edmund could have been certain that they were the only two beings alive. They were consumed with each other, hardly daring to believe what was happening was actually happening. After years of desire—even subconscious, unwanted lust—they had done it...were now doing it again...

Neither had said a comprehensible word all night; no professions of love came, no promises for the future were uttered in the moments of rest, when they would catch their breath, bodies limp with exhaustion. They didn't even say each other's names, for all that needed to be said had been said time after time before, in looks, in words, and now, finally, in deed.

No rest came until morning, when the sun was just beginning to light up the sky above them. They lay entangled in each other's arms, fatigued but unable to sleep. The music had finally faded; all of Narnia was asleep, but for them.

Saedra made to sit up, and he allowed her to disentangle herself from him. She leaned over and planted a kiss on his lips, and stood up. She glanced about for her dress, wondering where he had thrown it hours before. She spotted it, and walked unabashedly over to where it was. Edmund's clothing was similarly scattered about the sides of the dunes surrounding them.

Before slipping the dress over her head, she glanced back at him. He was studying her wordlessly, lying there with only stray sand for covering. She stood there in the dim light with naught on but the necklace from Father Christmas around her neck.

When clothed, she slipped away to the forests, back to where she knew the party would be fast asleep. The celebrators were strewn out on the lawn, lying on thick animal-skin blankets. Many were snoring loudly, some due to habit and others due to the drinks. Susan and Peridan were, expectedly, nowhere to be seen, as were other couples. Near the dying fire she saw Peter snoring softly, his crown on crookedly. She carefully lay down near him, but far enough away so as not to intrude on his space.

She stared up at the orange sky, too spent to even think as she fell fast asleep.

Saedra could hardly bring herself to look at Rahai that day. Looking at Peter had been a challenge ever since their last conversation in private, so little had changed in that regard...but looking at her cousin—the wife of the man that she had spent a relentless, passionate, decadent night with—in the eye...it would have tried the fortitude of the strongest woman.

Yet that very evening, when Edmund brushed past Saedra in the hallway and whispered, "The tower. Midnight," the thought did not enter Saedra's mind not to meet her lover a second time. She knew of which tower he spoke: the one she had accidentally come upon while trying to escape Peter after a fight. The tower had been a refuge for Edmund against Saedra, and now it would be a refuge to conceal their illicit love.

They met that night, and every night they could. They explored each other's bodies, spoke in urgent whispers, and exchanged deep looks across the dinner table. To the world, nothing was different. Edmund and Saedra were brother and sister. Nothing was off; the trust that bound the family together was the trust that made it so easy for Edmund and Saedra to conduct a treacherous affair before their very eyes. The couple had always been friendly, so when a meaningful look was passed, it was assumed to be simply platonic, nothing more.

Rahai was the most blinded of all. It never entered her mind that when Edmund would go off for long walks at night that he was meeting anyone else, least of all her dear cousin. It was simply that he was King and had a lot on his mind; he was still almost as attentive to her as always. He had never been overly affectionate, but had been a steady husband nonetheless. Rahai had more than enough love for the both of them.

The time passed quickly for Saedra. Each day was a waiting time for when night would fall, for when she could sneak up to the tower, where she would wait for Edmund or find him already there to sweep her into his arms at her arrival. The lovers were guilty from the start: Saedra could see it plainly in Edmund's eyes as clearly as he could see it in hers, but it was like an addiction; they could not not see each other. It sustained them, gave them a reason to get through the day. They hardly spoke by day but for whispered arrangements in passing to designate a time to meet.

They grew accustomed to the guilt that trailed them wherever they went; it was their reality, and they were resigned to it. But if they were careful, their guilt would never be known; Saedra was unable to have children: Mrs. Quigley had assured her of that. The only way they could be found out was if they slipped.

The guests departed after the countless celebrations for Susan's wedding, and spring slowly became summer. Family outings became more and more common as the weather warmed.

One sunny afternoon, the whole family went out for a picnic to enjoy the warmest day yet of the year. They rode their horses for a couple of hours, then rested in a small clearing between some trees. They set up blankets and had a small, lively brunch. Animals and Dwarves from the forest came out and ate with them as well, supplying more food.

Susan could be seen throwing her head back with laughter at one of Peridan's jokes. Lucy would spontaneously get up and start a game of tag with a family of young Goats. Talia would grab Peter's hand and say, "Father, I'm bored sitting here. Let's spar!" Peter would grin with the special grin he had only for his step-daughter at the challenge, but get up slowly, pretending to be tired; he fooled no one, for all knew how sparring with Talia was his favorite pastime.

Rahai would talk with the female Cheetahs, her grey eyes sparkling with happiness. Saedra was holding nine-month-old Caulitha's hand as the baby struggled to stand up, and caught her as the child lost her balance and fell backwards. Saedra would glance up and lock eyes with Edmund, who was next to Rahai talking to a Tree-and had been watching his sister-in-law the whole time out of the corner of his eye.

After the meal, the family spread out: Talia and Peter went for a hike; Saedra, Rahai, and Susan stayed with the napping baby; and Edmund and Peridan went off to appease some Rabbits who were having issues with the Hare family. Hours later, when everyone except Peter and Talia was getting ready to leave, Susan said, "I wonder how far Peter and Tal went! He knew we were planning to leave at this time."

Saedra glanced around, then volunteered: "I'll go see if I can find them. Knowing Talia, they probably stopped to play in the brook."

Susan agreed to watch Caulitha, and Saedra went off. She found that she had been right: Peter and Talia had stopped at the brook, probably on their way back. They were sitting on the rocky shore, talking.

She hesitated, not relishing the idea of interrupting their father-daughter time.

"...I guess it's just that it seems like things are—different," Talia was saying haltingly.

"How so?" Peter asked.

"Well, just you and Mum, I guess...you don't talk anymore. Or laugh. Or smile—or anything!" She picked up a pebble and threw it into the water with a plop.

"Things are...complicated with your mother and I," he said carefully. "It's just between her and myself. We need to work it out in our own time."

"But if you haven't worked it out yet, when will you? You've both been weird for a long time. Ever since Mother died!"

"I didn't know you noticed, Tal." He studied her, but she wouldn't meet his eyes. "I'm sorry if our problems have affected you. I didn't think it had."

"Can't things go back to the way they were?" she almost begged. "I've really hated it...the silence. I know you're both sad about Willem, but it doesn't help anything if you avoid each other!"

Peter said nothing, and they sat there in silence as Talia continued to chuck pebbles into the water. Saedra felt strange eavesdropping, but this was too important a conversation to end.

"Are you mad at Mum?" Talia finally asked.

Peter looked surprised. "I—what makes you think that?"

She shrugged. "Are you?"

"It's not—appropriate—for me to answer that, Tal. As I said—"

"You're mad about Willem, aren't you? You blame Mum for that."

Saedra held her breath, anxious to hear how Peter would address that, but all he did was look confused.

Talia continued, "When one of the Tisroc's wives miscarried, she was punished. Everyone blamed her for it. You blame Mum for Willem."

"No, Tal, I don't. Not in the least. None of us had any way of knowing that she would be poisoned. It was definitely not her fault. It was no one's fault."

"Then why are you mad?"

Peter stood up. "It's getting late, Tal. We should—"

Saedra stepped out of the shadows and said, "There you are! Everyone's getting ready to leave, so I decided to find you two."

Talia smiled. "Super! Is there any food left? I'm famished already!"

"I think they're packing it up," Saedra replied.

"Good. I'm going to see if I can catch them!" Talia hurried into the forest, just a little more excited than she should have been about some food.

Saedra and Peter stood awkwardly.

"Where's Cauli?" Peter asked, breaking the silence.

"Sleeping. Susan's watching her."

"Ah..."

Pause.

"Well, should we be going?" Saedra said, trying to be cheerful. She didn't wait for his reply, but turned back into the forest to find safely among others from the man who had just become ever more mysterious to her.

He wasn't mad about Willem. If not Willem...then what?