XXXI

EDMUND

Daylight - Cinematic – David Kushner

The stairs that lead from the stone balcony to Emperor's Beach were exhaustingly long and treacherous – the later strings after the last landing without any railing at all. As the tips of his boots met with each slab of decaying marble, Edmund began to feel anxious for what lied at their end.

It had become clear that the whole matter was foolish, that if he had listened to his rational mind when Grace had first entered his study then he would not have been in this position. Edmund cursed the greater of the two, the side which borderline refused to trust and to be trusted. It was more easily managed by him in the past, especially around family.

Grace, however, was not family. She was not even friend. She was… he wasn't sure what she was. Human? Certainly. Thoughtless? In some respects, yes. Kind? Images of her sacrifices on behalf of Casys surfaced in his mind. Yes, she was kind and considerate.

Trustworthy? Yet to be determined.

But it wasn't, not really. Edmund subconsciously knew that she was no threat from the moment he laid eyes on her. It was the other side of him that disagreed. The other side which remembered the inviting gaze of another who had made him feel unsettlingly at-ease.

As he spent more time in her presence, it became clear that Grace did not lure for her own purposes. In fact, he would make the assumption that she did not aim to lure at all. She simply did by being.

When she'd pressed for more information that day in the office, Edmund had not meant to give it. However, there was something behind those eyes that egged him on. A sense of spirit in curiosity that made Edmund want to tell her more. To spill his deepest darkest secrets and watch her reaction.

Since then, her eyes had been guilt filled and knowing. As if Grace had not meant to push him that far and now felt the repercussions. Edmund knew he could not blame her. She had not pushed him further than he was willing to go, the pressure she applied lifting as soon as Edmund had begged for it to stop.

He had to admit, it was a relief to speak it out loud. To date, he'd only ventured to speak to Mr Tumnus about King Ventotene and the Faun only learned of it after crossing Edmund in a very vulnerable state.

Edmund meandered around the sandy worn stone of the last steps, careful not to slip on the dregs of sand atop it or to allow his sword to swing freely and throw him off balance. At last, his boots hit the shifting form of the sand, their footsteps becoming heavy as he trudged through it.

A relieved noise left his throat when his eye's at last landed upon the form of Grace. She was half a beach away, standing stoically still as she watched the ocean. There was a moment of slight panic before Edmund caught sight of her guard, Casys, who stood decidedly farther than he would have liked.

Edmund eyed the unsteady and soft sand as he headed towards the Centaur. In truth, he'd never seen any centaur upon sand. As his feet repeatedly sunk and hoisted from the small dunes, he theorised that was most-likely due to its unstable nature.

It felt like an age before he caught up to Casys, the Centaur stationed on the point where the grassy hills met the sand of Emperor's Beach. There was no humour in the guards face as he watched the King struggle and upon Edmund meeting him at the grass line the Centaur bowed in respect, one arm pressed solemnly over his chest.

"Your Majesty. I promise you the situation is well in-hand. There is no need for you to trouble yourself."

Edmund waved him off, "I trust you have the matter, Casys. I do not question your judgement. I have come to enquire after the Daughter of Eve's state of mind."

The Centaur grimaced, "She is not happy. There has not been a legible word that has passed from her lips this past half-hour, however, her tears and general manner have bordered on hostile since her departure from your study."

A firm line set in Edmund's lips, "I see."

His eyes wandered to the mass of auburn hair billowing in the cool breeze. The wind had picked up some since that morning, it's force greatest amongst the waves of the ocean. In the distant sky – and from the angle which Edmund now stood – it looked as though grey clouds had begun to form atop Grace's head. How fitting.

Edmund steeled himself against the onslaught he was about to receive with a deep breath and squared shoulders, "I will speak to her."

The Centaur moved out of his way with a pitying gaze that Edmund tried to ignore. He did not want to know what Casys had seen that would make him look so, it would only loosen his resolve.

His body was stiff and straight as he stepped atop the sand, the sinking of his boots doing nothing to deter him. Grace did not move from her position, the skirts of her dress covered in dark specks of ash and white specks of sand, the effect dazzling in the sunlight. The dusky green colour it sat against was familiar to him, like an herb he'd seen growing in the woods.

She stood silently, facing the ocean with a defiant glare. If Edmund looked carefully enough, there was something else within her glassy gaze… fear. The ocean lapped at her in response, each wave sliding closer and closer to the edge of her dress in tantalising invitation. However, every time it got too close Grace took a step back.

She was afraid of the water?

An understandable consequence considering Lucy's reports that she'd almost drowned… but somehow this piece did not fit his image of her. The Grace he'd known who was so headstrong and unfearing of him. How could she be afraid of something so inconsequential?

As the ocean lapped at her, Grace continued to evade it, eyes bordering between frantic fear and gritting resolve. The look reminded Edmund of one he'd seen previously, in the mirror before a battle.

No, she didn't fear the water. Grace feared death.

The knowledge was oddly comforting to Edmund, that his fear was mirrored in another. Amongst the courageous eyes of his siblings, he'd begun to think himself alone. His mind constantly dragging the worst possible outcome to the surface and tormenting him with it until he was forced to react. To squash it below the surface of possibility and ensure it remained there.

The very thing he had attempted to do to Grace.

His feet stopped of their own accord, still one or two paces away from her hunched figure.

Grace looked at him, the full force of her burning tear-stained glare conveying the brunt of her thoughts.

Edmund swallowed, "I can explain."

An unsettling silence passed as he shifted uncomfortably on the uneven terrain. He had expected shouting, perhaps even some sand thrown in his face. What he hadn't expected was the terrifyingly calm tone she spoke with.

"Explain what?"

Involuntarily, Edmund's eyes flickered to the crumpled parchment in her hands.

"Oh this?" Grace caught his glance, holding the parchment in the air between them, "Yes I was just reviewing my work on the letter to King Ventotene."

Her words edged and Edmund felt his insides mass together in an uncomfortable ball.

"A letter which I found in the kindling bucket."

He tried to speak, "Grace-"

She turned on him, "Was it all some sick trick? Was my work truly that laughable to you that you had to throw it away?"

"Of course not!" Edmund protested.

"Then what other explanation is there?" The crumpled parchment was thrown at him, catching on the wind and floating away, "I put everything into my work, everything into showing you that I was worthy of your trust and this is how you repay my efforts?"

Edmund's voice froze in his throat, the practiced responses he had mentally stored dying on his lips.

When he didn't speak, Grace's face crumpled vulnerably, "Were the matters I worked on even real to begin with?"

Her question tugged at an involuntary string inside of him. When his next words left his lips, Edmund knew they were automatic and unconvincing, "I had to ensure you could be trusted before I handed you anything potentially damaging."

Grace's brow furrowed with incredulity, "But how can you trust me without handing me anything potentially damaging? If there is no risk, there is no reward. Surely, a king should know that!"

Edmund bristled, his shoulders squaring angrily against her accusation, "A king also weighs the risk versus the reward and determines the best course. I do not need you to tell me how to fill my position, Grace."

"I never said you did."

"You just questioned it," Edmund argued, his voice rising against the rolling thunder of the waves, "And in my presence, no less!"

Grace rolled her eyes irritatedly, "I was merely pointing out that a man of your position should understand what is at stake here."

"I am well aware of it, I assure you," Edmund gritted, "Do you not think this whole matter has not tortured me since it began. That I have not thought it over numerous times to the same result."

"If this is the same result then I hardly see its effectiveness," Grace spat, returning her eyes to the clouds over the water.

Edmund scoffed, "How about you worry about your actions and I will worry over the effectiveness of my plans."

"Your great plan was to give me fake work on purpose to trust my credibility. I don't see how you thought that would prove effective?"

"It wasn't going to continue forever-"

"Just enough so that you could be satisfied with its result," Grace finished for him.

"Yes."

Grace's head shook before the word left his mouth. Her own lips set in a firm line as her eyes burned blue. The grey fizzling out amongst the driftwood flame of her anger.

"And what of my satisfaction?"

Grace's words and her face were incomprehensibly and terrifyingly striking in the dim light of day. Edmund found himself caught, barely able to utter his thoughts from within his confusion, "Your satisfaction?"

Those burning eyes met his clouded ones, "My pride in my efforts to build a bridge. Of which you have now bruised."

The clouds shifted, her words the gentle breeze that blew them apart. It was if the crack between them allowed for a small beam of sunlight to penetrate his mind.

Ah. He'd bruised her pride.

He thought her words a little supercilious and dramatic, but then he supposed that there was no other way Grace could be. She who reacted to his warnings with self-sacrifice and his anger with intense reason.

"You have enacted a rather stupid plan in my opinion. I can't imagine it has done you any favours either since – last I checked – your desk was piled sky high with work," Grace continued, "I suppose the only true consolation I'll have from this whole sorry mess is the fact that it has left you in a worse position."

The truth stung like salt water on a wound and Edmund couldn't mitigate his cold words of retaliation before they left his mouth, "Better to have more work than to have to deal with the repercussions of your inevitable betrayal."

Grace's head whipped from the direction of the sea, "Do you hear the words coming out of your mouth?"

It was too late to turn back now, "I do and they are reasonable to me."

Another moment passed where they both stood still, feet wedged in the stand and eyes burning with furies of different colour. Edmund refused to be the first to bend, refused to admit he was in the wrong. He ignored the niggling voice in the back of his mind as it screamed he should apologize, that he never should have tested her to begin with.

In a surprising turn of events, Grace relented first; adjusting her bare feet in the sand and crossing her arms immaturely. From the set of her face, it was if she'd resigned herself to a dreadful fate, "You know what? I'm tired of this. If you are so determined that I am going to betray you then by all means, present your case and at least allow me the chance to defend myself."

It was an open invitation. Or a trap.

Edmund weighed both of the options in his hands as they linked behind him. The action straightening his shoulders and lifting his chin in a manner that was both familiar and comforting.

On the one hand, he could present his case as she's suggested… and leave himself open. The reasons for his suspicion were drenched in the blood of his past. If Edmund were to tell her, then he may as well give her his sword and watch her sheathe it in his skin. His hand found the cool metal, the spiral of leather under the hilt comforting beneath his fingertips. No, it was not an option.

The other hand was enticing in a cruel and unfeeling way. Edmund hated to consider it. He could deny her the chance to prove herself and opt to stay the course the louder of the voices in his mind had planned. But what would be the excuse? What would be the use of the effort in denying her this right when no fruit would be borne at the end of the journey?

Grace would not forgive easily, this he could tell by the sting of her words and the charred remains of older fires in her eyes. If he refused her now, there would be a retribution. Not only from Grace but from Lucy, who had made her stance between them in this matter clear.

His sisters words rang soundly in his ears as if she was by his side, 'And this time, I hope that she gets away'.

Would the consequences of his denial truly be so dear? Was this the only olive branch that Grace would offer in their acquaintance. She was theatrical enough to see it through, of that Edmund was sure but didn't it seem a bit… much?

Around the grip of Edmund's hands he felt another, a third option which bridged the skin of both sides with just enough truth and just enough discretion to see the matter through.

At least, with Grace's unpredictability he hoped that was the case, "You are not from here. You had not a single friend in Narnia when you entered and yet in the span of a night you had my youngest sister speaking upon your behalf. Requesting your stay in Cair Paravel and work to keep your mind occupied."

Edmund allowed a second for it to set in. He watched the words seep into her ears and light her eyes with scepticism.

"What? You think I bewitched her or something?"

Edmund glared, ignoring the mental yank he felt at her perceptive words, "It is not a laughing matter."

Grace's glare reduced to something akin to astonishment, "Your Majesty, magic isn't real. Even if I wanted to do such a thing I could not."

Edmund looked away, refusing to allow himself to be entreated at her word, "Even if you were being honest, there is no way I could verify your story. I rely only on facts and evidence I can hold within two hands."

"What do you do with word of mouth then?" Grace retorted.

"I have the witness write it down and sign it," Edmund replied simply, arms releasing from their thoughtful grip and tangling across his chest in challenge.

Grace did not falter, the connections forging so clearly behind her eyes that Edmund could swear he saw them glow, "So you think I will betray Narnia because I am alien to it?"

He supposed that was one interpretation, "I believe We cannot know the course of your actions or their meaning because We do not understand you."

Her finger lifted towards him in accusation, "You were alien to Narnia too, once. I know the stories. All four of the Kings and Queens who currently reign over Narnia appeared when they were children. You were not born here, yet none of you betrayed Narnia. Why then, should that story be true of me?"

A boisterous disbelieving noise left Edmunds throat. Grace truly had no idea what she was talking about, "That is quite possibly the worst possible example to rely on."

Her head cocked as she searched his face for meaning, "Why? Because you are a king and so obliged to do right by your people? Somewhere along the line, someone gave you the chance to prove yourself. That is all I am asking for."

Edmund leaned forward, his voice barely carrying over the roar of the waves, "And you think a handful of written documents will achieve the desired result?"

Grace looked at him with barely concealed distaste, "I see no other way in our current situation. In the past three days you have spoken only a handful of true words to me and more than half of those were constructive criticism of my work."

"Which is an understandable result considering we were working, Grace," Edmund rebuffed.

"Trust is not built on tests alone. It is based on experience, on conversations," The burning blue in her irises flickered with something more, "On reliance."

Edmund stared after the flicker as it dissipated, it's brief existence a puzzle he could not yet fathom. The conviction in Grace's voice was difficult to deny, the sense in her words even more so but there was something that still didn't sit right at their meaning, "You want me to rely on you?"

Her face didn't shift, as if she'd expected his answer, "No, but it wouldn't be a sore sound to my ears if you made attempt at some conversation."

"Oh really?" Edmund asked, "About what? Shall we speak of the weather? Of my sisters new sparkling dress she wore to the ball?"

"Real conversation. We need to speak to each other."

"But we did speak," Edmund debated, "I provided a secret at your request, how is that not suitable."

Grace levelled him with a hard stare, "One instance in four days."

Edmund sighed as he ran a tired hand over his face, "There is one crucial factor missing from your equation, Grace."

"And what's that?"

"Time," Edmund explained, "It takes time to develop trust."

Her expression diminished, the hard stare wearing away like the worn edges of the sea cliffs, "You are right, it does."

It was a small victory and Edmund felt it in that moment. One point won in the war. That was until, her determination resurfaced.

"But I do not have the luxury of time, I have to return home! I have been in Narnia for a month with frustratingly little results and you want to ask for even more time?"

"Our agreement has been in action for only four days. Nothing is that quick or that easy especially where I am concerned," Edmund reasoned before another thought etched into his mind and out of his lips.

"I can no more charge into the change of my conscious than you can alter yours," Edmund was becoming impatient now, the words leaving his mouth in harsh tones, "Or is your character truly so flimsy, Grace?"

The moment the words left Edmund's lips he regretted their existence. He wanted to reach into the air and take them back, to catch the fog of his breath in his hands and shield her from them. He hadn't meant to say it like that, It was as if something was meddling in the line between, twisting and inking the words into their darkest form.

Whatever formed the insult rejoiced in her reaction. Grace's eyes widened as her head inched back in recoil. Her glare didn't leave him for a moment and so Edmund found himself on the front lines of their shifting tones. At first she looked upset, then there was anger, at last she settled on an emotion that he nor the nastiness inside him could have predicted. She looked at him with pity.

"What on earth made you like this?" Grace asked, her voice soft and disbelieving.

Edmund looked away, "That is none of your business."

"If it's to do with King Ventotene's-"

"Do not speak of that here!" He cut in as his hand reflexively gripped the hilt of his blade.

But his words did not deter her, if anything, they made her more insistent, "I will not be scared into silence by you. I understand that whatever is going between you and the King holds a very heavy personal significance," When Edmund tried to interrupt her she raised her voice, "I also understand that there must have been events preceding his rejection of you that you blame yourself for."

He could feel his hands shaking, itching to do something to stop her from throwing them both over an edge he would not be able to return them from, "You are teetering on words you should not and I will ask you to withdraw them."

"No," Grace replied. She was as disbelievingly stubborn as she ever was, the resolve in her eyes only matched by the pity that stood by its side, "You shouldn't fear my questions, your Majesty, I wouldn't truly ask you for something you didn't want me to know."

A sign of respect he had not expected from her. The response in his body was instantaneous; the shaking in his hands lessening to a warm wobble, his white knuckled grip on the leather handle gaining colour.

"However, I will ask that those events do not hinder our efforts."

Edmund stared, the confusion he knew lay evident on his face was hard to wipe when he had so many other things to think about. He was not confused about how his past hindered their current predicament – of that he was well aware – what he was confused about was how she supposed to work around it?

The two voices struggled, the louder and more dominant convinced it was a trap, that Grace meant to lower his defences in order to slip past them. The more he trusted her, the more she had access to. It was a battleplan on a map of the Marshes, sticky and impossible to navigate.

The reasonable side of him screamed to be heard amongst its twin. Grace could not prove herself until Edmund allowed her to. He knew that this did not mean he had to let her in completely, he simply needed to provide enough risk for her to return the reward.

"I don't know if that would be possible," Edmund murmured.

Grace leaned towards him, hesitant in her reach as she laid a hand atop his own. It was warm against the cool breeze of the sea. The hilt beneath his own hand bore the weight of two, it's round surface burrowing into his palm with a cool sturdy presence. It grounded him to the earth and settled the argument in his mind.

Her gaze was as just steady as the metal on his skin, "If you ever want to finally be rid of me then you need to try."

A laugh bubbled past his throat. It was short and reluctant but nonetheless present. He couldn't help the reaction for her words had startled him. It was a bittersweet picture, the finality he would find in waving her off as she walked away. Venturing back into the land of Spare Oom – perhaps forever.

Edmund withdrew his hand slowly, careful not to hurt her feelings in the effort as he linked the pair behind him once more, "What would you have me do? It should be obvious that trust does not come easily to me. There will not be a day that I am with you that I will not see a threat. How am I supposed to surpass that feeling when I have no assurance that I am not wrong."

"The first step is surpassing that feeling," Grace clarified.

As the louder voice continued to protest mentally, Edmund doubted the chances of that one.

When it was clear he remained unconvinced, Grace continued, "Perhaps if I were to offer something, it might make it easier?"

Edmund nodded.

Hesitance briefly flickered amongst her blue irises; the thought was already formed in her mind, yet Grace feared it. It made Edmund wonder what exactly she had planned that worried her so.

"It is not my intention, but if I were to ever betray Narnia…" Her words edged, her fingers linking and unlinking at her middle in nervous grip, "You can behead me."

An image flashed that Edmund immediately banished, alongside with any thoughts entertaining its existence. A beheading? Grace truly knew how to stretch a promise to the limit. It was the last effort Edmund would have undertaken. Imprisonment was likely, perhaps a lashing if the information she released was particularly sensitive but a beheading.

He'd give her credit where it was due for her imagination.

"I could do that anyway," Edmund replied easily, unwilling to advise her of the unlikelihood of the eventuality. She seemed terrified of the prospect and considering Edmund now knew she feared death, it would be a good deterrent from any nefarious plans she may hold.

Grace looked at him obviously, "But I will go willingly."

The beginnings of a smile cracked against the serious set of Edmunds face. Ah, so that was her bargaining chip. Not the beheading herself, but her compliance. It was humorous to imagine Grace submitting to anything or anyone. A thought which took him back to their first conversation on the balcony a few nights before.

Another agreement, Edmund would have to start writing contracts to keep track of them all if they kept accruing at this rate.

"Are you willing to sign your name to that in blood?" He asked mildly.

Grace rolled her eyes but held out her hand all the same, "And you accuse me of witchcraft."

The words sobered Edmund. The air around him turning to chill against his skin. When he catches Grace's eyes again, however, the feeling lessened. The burning jest within them staving off anything other than warmth and familiarity he knew she did not yet hold with him.

And yet… there was a familiarity in that moment. A peace he only felt around his siblings settled over him as he considered her words and her actions. In its truest form, Grace had made an attempt to comfort him and it had been successful.

The voices in his head had quieted to a distant dull buzz, like an insect that could be batted away and for the first time in her presence, Edmund he could make his own decision.

Grace stood firmly afront him; hand poised in the air, ready to take the blade and commit her promise to blood. The honesty behind the action and in the fierce determination of her eyes were evidence enough that this was not a trick, nor a ploy in order to gain access to Narnia's secrets.

It reminded him of Lucy somehow but it also didn't. The light sparkling amongst her blue-grey irises lacked a certain level of naivete that Lucy held and it was far more familiar to him than that of any of his siblings.

Grace looked as if she'd seen the worst that fortune could offer and still endeavoured to focus on the best of it.

"I accept your offer," Edmund agreed as he gently lowered her hand, "Without the need for blood."

Grace's relief was almost palpable. She smiled at him, "Thank you."

Edmund shook his head, his small smile mirroring her own, "Don't thank me yet. You've yet to advise what our next steps are."

Her lips quirked in thought as her hands regripped at her middle, "When you made this decision to give me fake work in order to test my reliability. Did it not occur to you that I should have been told beforehand?"

Edmund felt the answer was obvious, "It's hardly a test of trustworthiness when the subject knows they are being tested."

"No, but it is a sign of trustworthiness from your side," Grace weighed in, "Going forward, any decisions either of us make to progress this acquaintance should be transparent. For instance, if you plan on giving me further fake work then please tell me now and spare my pride."

Edmund grimaced at her choice of words, "I suppose I could be amenable to that request, however, I still reserve the judgement that sharing my plans with you means you could manipulate the outcome."

Grace sighed, her eyes turning to the sky momentarily as she uttered, "I hardly think I could get anything past you at this point."

A chuckle passed his lips involuntarily. She was right, he had watched her like a hawk for months, through his eyes and the ones he employed. There was something to her words, however, and Edmund supposed that this experiment of this could have failed disastrously if Grace had not come across the damning evidence and confronted him.

With that in mind, Edmund decided to let the experiment run, "Alright then, complete transparency going forward. Though I must caution, you may regret this request. My methods are sometimes judged as harsh."

"You? Harsh? Never," Grace deadpanned.

Edmund pretended he didn't hear her, "For full transparency, I was planning on giving you true work today. I did not plan to leave you in the dark forever."

Grace regarded him carefully, as if she was trying to determine if he was speaking the truth. Edmund looked at her levelly, even if he was lying, he doubted she'd be able to tell.

"Good to know," Grace said, feet resurfacing from their sunken position as she faced the water once more.

Edmund watched her pensive expression, unsure of what to do next. His mind flitted anxiously to his work filled desk, he couldn't afford a days reprieve from it – no matter how much he wished to.

"I suppose I should also offer an olive branch then," Grace's soft voice broke his reverie.

Edmund looked at her expectantly.

Grace's eyes met his in a sidelong glance as her fingers wrung against each other, "I'm sorry for pushing you on the Terebinthia subject. I could tell it was a sore topic but I pressed anyway. It wasn't right to make you reveal your secrets."

The subtle shake of Edmund's head brushed the topic away, "Do not trouble yourself. Your points in the argument were valid. I was too swayed by my emotions on the matter to see the truth."

Her reaction was not what he expected. There was a smile, but it was not grateful in the sense of the word. Grace looked at him like she understood how he felt, like his reaction was justified. Edmund found it intensely uncomfortable and couldn't hold the gaze.

"I suppose there is no chance of getting any work done after this," He sighed, mind still forlornly stuck on the image of his desk.

"I think my mind will be too preoccupied," Grace agreed. Her head tilted to meet the sunlight breaching the cloudbank, "Besides, by the time we'd make it to your study I would have to leave for the Orchestra meeting."

The feeling of the sand shifting under his feet stirred him. Edmund looked down, surprised to catch sight of a wave releasing its grasp around his boots as it returned to the sea. When had he gotten so close to the water?

Edmund looked towards the strip of green where Casys stood and counted the small mounds of sand where his foot had taken hold. Casys stared from the edge of long green grass, the same size and distance as he had always been. It was then that Edmund realised that they hadn't moved, the ocean had.

Grace must have noticed the tide washing in, a fearful look in her eyes as her hands picked up her skirts. She looked ready about to bolt from the wave that spilled towards them but there was no need, the water barely splashed the edge of where her dress had been. Grace stepped back all the same, shoulders hunched and hands buried in her skirts in preparation for the next one.

Edmund wondered what drew her to Emperor's Beach in the first place. If she was as afraid of the water as she seemed, it didn't make sense for this to be her place of comfort.

"If you don't mind my asking," He voiced, "Why did you come here?"

Grace looked at him like he'd grown a third head, "We've been through this. I didn't choose to come to Narnia."

Edmund shook his head, "I should have been clearer. Why are you here, at Emperor's Beach?"

The disbelief faded, replaced by the defiance she'd held when he'd joined her at the edge of the waves earlier, "It's been a source of comfort for me ever since I was a child. If I was ever upset or needed to think something through, I'd find the closest beach and sit on the sand."

Her lips dipped in a frown, "I used to imagine the waves would take my thoughts away."

Edmund watched as her expression continued to flicker between fear and frustration, the emotions in rhythm with the coming and going of the waves, "I gather that feeling has changed?"

Grace's eyes watered, "Yes."

As a single tear rolled over her cheek, Edmund looked away. Watching her sorrow was painful and the knowledge that there was little he could do to alleviate it weighed heavily on him.

His mind circled with thoughts, ideas, anything to wipe the expression off of her face but what true alternative was there to a place of emotional significance? There was no level of comfort to be replicated anywhere else and Edmund was sure if there was, Grace would already be there.

A steadying breath filled his lungs, the determination drawn with it was heady and exhausting. He had to do something to help – after all, was he not the reason she was drawn here in the first place?

If her comfort could not be replicated, attached to old memories which now held terrifying significance… perhaps they should create new ones.

But what could Edmund give her? What olive branch was sizable enough to bridge the divide he'd excavated?

He thought over her position; Grace had come to Emperor's Beach to clear her head.

Whenever Edmund needed to think things through, he took up Phillip's company. The horse was well versed in the trade of advising and listening.

It went further than that, however. Edmund felt most at home riding on horseback under the swaying branches of overhanging trees. The peace and comfort of the woods was something he pursued often, similarly to how Grace sought it in the roar of the ocean waves. Perhaps, by showing her his world and helping her build her own memories within it, she might find that peace again.

It was clear that Grace did not know how to ride already. If she did, Edmund doubted she would have been caught in her first escape attempt. If she was to gain anything from this, he would need to teach her personally. That way, if she did attempt something, he could handle her.

It was a risk that previously he would have balked at, the idea of giving Grace any kind of training unthinkable at best. However, Edmund was not the same as when his feet first sunk into the sand. His head was clearer now, unburdened by the chaos of the infighting in his mind.

He intended to take advantage of it.

Grace still stared intently at the line of the ocean. She'd stepped back two paces now, and Edmund realised that his boots were frequently washed with edges of salty waves.

He refused to count the streaks lining her cheeks as his hands linked behind his back, the movement straightening his posture once more, "I have an offer for you."

Grey eyes flickered between him and the sea at his boots, "If it involves getting closer to your wet boots, I will have to decline."

Edmund couldn't help the smile that stretched his cheeks. He sighed good-naturedly as he trudged further from the wet sand, "Better?"

Grace's glance did not cease but she looked less uncertain, "Marginally."

"I was hoping to show you another way of clearing your mind," Edmund followed her stare to the rolling waves, "As the beach is no longer an option."

"I don't think there is enough time," Grace whispered, throwing an extra nervous glance towards the Cair, "Margrove is expecting me."

"Surely, the Orchestra could spare you for a few hours," Edmund pressed, "It would be just for today."

Admittedly, that was a lie – if only on the basis that if Grace did well today, Edmund continued to keep training her.

Grace continued to glance between him, the ocean and the Cair. Her expression was uncertain at best and Edmund felt himself becoming impatient. At the rate it was taking for her to decide, they both would end up late to their duties today.

Then, he remembered the artful manner with which Grace had pressed him for more information about King Ventotene. Edmund had been as torn as she looked now, the battle in his mind as hard won as it had been today.

Her offer had been the deciding vote between the two voices, a secret for a secret. Curiosity was a weakness most humans held was it not? And while a secret was not what he was after in this case, Edmund knew the precise words to pull Grace with him all the way to the stables.

"I offer a trade," Edmund proposed, "Your precious time in exchange for a show of my good-will."

It did the job beautifully; Grace stood straighter, the warm blue of her interest at last focused solely and completely on him, "What did you have in mind?"

A small and comforting smile stretched across Edmund's face, "Nothing clears the mind better than the fresh morning air across your face."