Adan circles back again— which he's done more times than Edmund has cared to count over the past few hours— and Edmund hears the words "newborn Foal" flitting through his mind as he watches the girl. Certainly his original assessment of a pampered princess was proving true. She has got to be the slowest and least able person he's ever been forced to travel with.
Finally, after watching her painful climb up what seemed to him a fairly gradual slope, Edmund calls for a quick break. As he walks forward to meet Adan, he's already trying to formulate some new plan for hiding instead of trying to force march this girl through the mountains. Maybe they could find somewhere out of sight, and then perhaps cover their tracks and—
"She's not a soldier," Adan says when Edmund reaches him.
"What?" Edmund asks ineloquently, all of his thoughts tumbling to a confused halt. Adan watches the girl closely, not answering. Edmund glances back at her too, seeing her standing with her arms crossed, tugging her cloak and the blanket tight.
"You think I'm pushing her too hard," Edmund says accusingly, trying not to glare at Adan. He'd asked for complete honesty, and this was apparently the result.
"I think," Adan says slowly, "that she's doing remarkably well for a newborn Foal." Edmund snorts a sort of laugh, relieving some of the tension between the two, but it would be funnier if the situation were less precarious.
"We aren't moving fast enough," Edmund insists.
"She's a princess," Adan retorts. "And it would seem the royals of Corsecant are not quite so… hardy as those of Narnia." Edmund swipes a hand across his face. Not quite so hardy indeed. Even Lucy could manage better than this. They haven't even gone that far, and the terrain isn't that difficult. His thoughts stray to the miles they've slowly covered thus far, and much more swiftly a group of men on horseback could have moved in the same amount of time. He can practically feel the gap between them closing.
"'It will not do to have the brat fainting on the way,'" Adan says quietly. It's barely above a whisper, but Edmund sucks in a sharp breath and his attention snaps back to the Wolf.
"That is not a fair comparison," Edmund forces out through gritted teeth. He remembers those words clearly— though they were first spoken a decade ago— and he's not at all pleased to have them brought up now. Adan had been there when Edmund had stumbled into the Witch's house, freezing and tired after a long trek through the frozen landscape, only to be met with cruel indifference. He'd been one of her servants too, but he's never brought it up so directly before. In general the two of them delicately avoid anything having to do with that time in their lives.
Adan says nothing more now, but his raised brow conveys a surprisingly human look of skepticism. He ignores Edmund's glare and looks instead over Edmund's shoulder again. Edmund follows the Wolf's gaze, now glaring at the princess.
He'd gotten her feet properly covered, hadn't he? And fashioned a blanket cloak to keep her warm and hidden. And he was trying everything he could to get her safely to Narnia. What more did the Wolf expect? It's not his fault she's worse than useless out here, nor that she's jeopardizing this entire mission.
Edmund takes a deep breath of the chilly mountain air, holding it in his lungs before slowly letting it out along with his righteous indignation. She is the mission, he reminds himself. Once the angry haze has left his mind, he takes a moment to truly study the princess, and as he watches the girl, breathing shakily and looking up at the bleak sky, he realizes she looks close to tears.
Edmund sighs, the remainder of his anger dissipating and leaving him feeling hollow. There's something uncomfortably familiar about her stance. He remembers a tired and broken ten-year-boy trekking for miles and miles, and then collapsing in misery and exhaustion. He remembers his captors shouting constantly to move faster! faster!, and even using a whip to force him forward.
"She's out of her depth, your majesty," Adan says quietly. "And no amount of pushing will make this any easier."
"We don't have time, Adan," Edmund sighs. Perhaps he can't truly blame the girl for her lack of ability, but it doesn't change the circumstances any. They can't afford to encounter this unmarked group while outnumbered and on foreign ground. When they're back in Narnia, and he has friends and soldiers around him, it will be a different matter. But they have to get there first.
"We'll be worse off if she gives up," Adan answers sagely.
"I see your point," Edmund admits. Edmund sighs again, knowing the Wolf is right. "But I don't see how else to keep moving." He can't carry her down these mountains, not if they want to keep ahead of their followers. She has to keep going, but if he keeps pushing he risks her quitting on him.
"Perhaps to carrot rather than the whip, your majesty." Edmund clenches his jaw, knowing the Wolf replaced stick with whip in that particular idiom completely on purpose.
"I'll check behind us before we move on," Adan says quickly, abruptly ending the conversation. He doesn't move, though, until Edmund finally meets his gaze and nods, assuring the Wolf that he's in agreement with this and everything else he's said.