XXVI
EDMUND
Mothers Daughter – Miley Cyrus
Edmund was stunned at the sudden interruption. The tears streaming down his sisters face as she crossed the room in stride only served to confuse him further. It was rare to see Lucy cry nowadays, except for in the gravest circumstances.
His mind whirred with the possibilities as his body launched into action, "What's wrong?"
The air stirred beside him as Grace hopped from her perch on the desk. She wasted no time in manoeuvring around the sturdy wood and meeting Lucy on the other side.
Lucy leaned into the embrace, absorbing a few seconds of comfort from her friend before letting Grace go. She eyed Edmund with a determined look, one fist clenched over the crumpled letter she held aloft, "There was an attack on the Healers Tent near the Marshwiggle territory."
"Was anyone hurt?" Edmund asked as he retrieved it. His eyes flickered to Grace momentarily - a niggling part of his brain did not like her presence in this conversation.
Lucy nodded, her lower lip wobbling as she spoke mournfully, "They managed to get many of the wounded out but Maltooth was wounded and Ritili…" Her voice caught on the name as she struggled to compose herself, "Ritilian is dead."
Another lone tear cascaded gently down his sisters cheek. Before he could think, Edmund was across the desk, Lucy held tightly to his chest.
Grace watched the exchange with wide eyes, both worried and out of place. "I think I should leave you," She said, not waiting for a response as she dropped into a half-hearted curtsey.
Edmund nodded gratefully over Lucy's head, "I think that would be best."
Thankfully, Grace did not seem offended by his tone, though it was short and unfettered. She simply nodded, eyeing his sister in his arms empathetically as she turned to leave.
His eyes followed Grace's form keenly until it disappeared behind the heavy wooden door.
Their conversation remained fresh in his mind. Her points were valid and worth listening to. In truth, her first letter had reminded Edmund of his own first attempts to reconcile with King Ventotene. The naivete he'd once shared stung as he remembered the reply he'd received, and the subsequent replies since that date.
King Ventotene had made it clear from the beginning of his dislike for Edmund and that he thought him unworthy of his position. It only stung more that in some ways, Edmund agreed.
A secret for a secret. It was a very artful way to draw the truth from stone. The very material he thought unyielding. Grace seemed to have the talent of drawing blood from it, but not in the manipulative way he'd seen before. There was something open and honest in her eyes that showed him her request was genuine and held no malice. She had no intention of using this information against him, she'd simply wanted to understand.
Edmund would return the favour in kind someday. That is, when he figured out what he would ask her.
Lucy's muffled voice brought him to the present, "I have to go to the front."
Edmund felt the colour drain from his face as his grip tightened, "Are you insane? If they're attacking the healers tents you would be as good as dead."
Lucy struggled against his tight grip. The movement serving her enough to look him in the eyes, "I have to oversee the installation of a new healer and report on our losses."
"Peter would never let you," Edmund protested.
Lucy seemed undeterred by this. Her wet lashes glimmered, encircling her strong and purposeful gaze - it was then the reason for her appearance dawned upon him, "That is why you must."
His arms slackened, the weight of her request weighing heavily upon his shoulders, "No, Lucy."
She shook her head fervently, the action loosening another tear at her eye's corner, "I will not engage – If that is what you wish – but there is no other choice; Maltooth will need an experienced healer and the Cair has very few at our disposal that can ride."
"We will send for one of the Centaurian Healers from the Western Wilds," Edmund reasoned.
"The trip West takes days at minimum. There's not enough time."
Edmund let her go, a list of the Cair's staff in mind that he would locate in his desk, "Then we will organise a willing guard to take one of the Cair's healers."
Lucy refused, "We cannot ask them to risk their lives. Besides, what if my cordial is needed?"
Edmund ignored her, fingers shuffling through paper at precarious speed. Where did he put that damn list?
"Edmund," Lucy grasped his arm, halting it mid-air, "Be reasonable about this."
He looked at her begrudgingly, his Sister's eyes were open, honest and brimming once again with unshed tears.
"We've taken a hit," She continued, "The people need the Crown's support now more than ever. Peter is the head of Aslan's Army; he needs time to muster the numbers. You and Susan are tied up in this business with Calormen. All of that aside, none of you have the experience to manage the Healer staff."
Edmund's frown grew grim at the ever-present sense from his sisters mouth.
"It has to be me."
Edmund knew her expression held that same surety that all of his siblings did. Would that he could mirror it; that he could feel as sure of himself as they did.
He looked at Lucy imploringly, "If I let you go and something happened I could never forgive myself."
Lucy sighed, her voice soft and soothing despite the words it spoke, "You are not letting me go, I need your sign off in order to do so legally but I will leave without it if I have to.
"You would really risk your life for this?" Edmund whispered, "There are options available to us – despite your dismissal of them."
Her eyes gleamed with an otherworldly courage, "I do not fear death, brother."
Edmund did. He'd feared the death of his family ever since he'd became aware of it's very real possibility at his hands. He remembered his own brush with it, the creeping coldness crawling under his skin and into to his heart until there was nothing left of him to feel, to think, to breathe. Endless nothingness was a fate he wished on none.
But Lucy knew nothing of that and if he could control the future, she never would.
"Clearly, you fear Peter's wrath instead," Edmund muttered, his eyes flickering towards the study door.
"No," Lucy blocked his view, "I don't want to worry him."
Edmund continued to muse, "If Peter knew, you'd be kept with a watchdog until this mess with the giants was over."
Lucy glared at him, "Perhaps not. He seems to understand that I am a grown woman, capable of making my own decisions."
Edmund rolled his eyes; Peter saw Lucy's wisdom due to the interference of others. If he'd been left on his own, Lucy would be coddled forever.
"You're still our little sister. I doubt that he would let you go willingly," Edmund persisted.
"Honestly, I thought we were past this, Ed," Lucy groaned, "You all need to stop treating me like a child."
"Then you need to stop acting like one.".
"That's enough," His sister's cold tone cut through air with furious accuracy. Her eyes were dark and dignified, holding the distilled wrath of her position with precarious ease, "Either you and Peter will sign off on this or I will go myself and trust me brother, there are little who will be able to stop me."
He looked at her, wary of the unforgiving glare levelled at his form. Sometimes Edmund forgot that she was more than just his kid sister, that the Valiant Queen was not a title handed lightly to her. Sometimes, he swore Lucy enjoyed reminding him.
Edmund's resolve loosened, "I will sign off on it on the condition that you take a squad of guards of my choosing."
Lucy closed her eyes in stoic relief, "Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet," Edmund muttered. He returned to his seat and plucked a bare sheet of parchment from the stack, "You have two weeks, Lu. I want daily reports by flight on your status."
"Daily reports aren't nece-"
Edmund silenced her with a look, "You will do this for me. I will include three of flight in your guard. The repetitive journeys may prove tiring, so please see to their care."
Lucy sighed, her eyes reaching the ceiling as she shuffled closer to the desk but she did not protest further.
"The Healers Tent will be moved into the Marsh-wiggle territory to deter against further attacks," Edmund grimaced at the words upon the page, "Try not to place it too close to a Wigwam, the last thing we need is a petition for breach of Marsh-wiggle privacy."
As Edmund neared the end of the letter, he took extra care in writing his name. The pointed flow of the R burning into his retinas as he considered its significance.
He shook his head; this was Lucy's choice and there was only so much he could do to cushion the outcome. The page was held aloft to his sister who snatched it without hesitation.
"Take this to Boram at the gatehouse. He will rally your squad," Edmund watched her nod as her clear eyes scanned the page, "Make your preparations quickly, the two weeks start from today."
Lucy's jaw dropped, "Today?"
"Be thankful that I am signing off on this at all, Lu," Edmund warned, "You'd have a much harder time organizing this on your own."
His sister looked away, chest heaving with a deep breath as she relented, "Fine."
Edmund relaxed into his chair; the pressure which bubbled in his chest lessening marginally at her acceptance. The feeling did not evaporate, however, and he doubted it would until Lucy had returned.
Surprisingly, Lucy did not leave. She stood calmly at the opposite end of his desk, her eyes now unburdened of fury as they gazed at him, "Do you remember our trip to the Western Wilds?"
Edmund raised his eyebrows at the change of conversation, "Which one?"
"Just you and I," Lucy prompted, "After the Festival of Floralia."
Edmund remembered it well, as he did all of his trips West. However, the one Lucy spoke of was one of his least favourites.
He was five and ten years of age when the Great Peace began. Edmund and his siblings had taken up permanent residence in Cair Paravel and he – finding the stillness of settled life unnerving – had decided to go West to secure his dukedom.
Lucy had requested to come, a little to his annoyance. Days into their journey, his sister had gone missing from their camp. Edmund had nearly turned the forest upside down in search of her, against the grumblings of their friend and advisor, Mr Tumnus, that she would be perfectly safe.
"The forest was so green and the flowers were in full bloom, don't you remember it?" Lucy pressed.
"I remember you getting lost on the Swaying Path," Edmund grumbled.
"And I came out just fine at Beavers Dam," Lucy returned brightly, "With not a scratch to be found on me."
Edmund looked at her sceptically, that wasn't quite how he remembered it. Though his sight might have been marred by the worries of an older brother.
"Is there a point to this story?" Edmund asked shortly.
Lucy rolled her eyes, "There would be, if you'd have some patience."
He waited for her explanation.
Lucy looked at him through thick lashes, her hand fiddling with the sleeve ties of her wrist, "There's something I haven't told you about that night."
Edmund felt a gnawing suspicion tug at his mind, "What is it?"
His sister looked cautious at her next words, "During that night, there may have been an attack on my person."
For a moment, Edmund sat dumbfounded at her words. They reached his ears and wormed their way into his mind but they didn't settle, instead dropping to the pit of his stomach and joining the sickened feeling there.
"There was a hag living in a burrow under a tree," Lucy explained, "I slipped and fell right into her lair."
Edmund's brow furrowed as he swallowed nervously, "How on earth did you make it out of there without a scratch on you?"
Lucy grimaced, "I cut off her claws."
There was a startled laugh, it took Edmund a minute to realise it was his own. The idea of Lucy meeting such a feat was not impossible, but at three and ten years of age he couldn't imagine her small skinny body swinging a blade with such force.
"Why did you never tell me?" Edmund asked.
"What would've been the point?" Lucy argued, "The Hag was dead. If it was known then I would have been banned from going out ever again."
"I think we'd need to get over the shock first," Edmund muttered, eyes wide with stock still disbelief.
Lucy shook her head exasperatedly, "I'm only trying to remind you that I am tough and resourceful. You need not worry about me."
"Oh?" Edmund tilted his head mockingly, "Was that what this conversation was aimed towards? I thought you were trying to give me a delayed heart attack."
There was a beat of silence where Lucy stared at him, eyes moving in quick paced assessment.
"You might be a bit peaky but I believe you'll survive," She ascertained, before adding wryly, "I'd imagine your time with Grace has already been trying on your nerves."
Edmund's eyes were instantly drawn to the letter upon his desk. Amidst the confusion of explanations and the rather unexpected appearance of his sister, it had been shuffled to the side. Now, however, it's image was at the forefront of his mind and with that the points that Grace had made.
"Did you tell Grace you wanted to do more?" Edmund asked, "For Narnia, that is."
Lucy's eyes drew surprisedly from the parchment she was reading, "Grace told you that?"
"It was brought up in conversation."
Her cheeks flushed at the exposure of conscience, "I may have mentioned it. You all have your fields in which you specialize but my toolkit feels a little bereft in comparison."
Edmund hummed thoughtfully, "I suppose that might be due to your age. Peter and Susan have always been wary of putting too much on you."
"But I'm of-age now," Lucy insisted, "Working in the field and with the Healers Guild is well and good but I want to help more with Narnia's administration."
Edmund's lips quirked at her initiative, "Then I might have a matter or two for your perusal."
A dull light sparked in Lucy's eye, "Really?"
"For when you return," Edmund negotiated.
She deflated a little at that. Her eyes wondered to Grace's letter atop the desk. Before Edmund could stop her, she lunged for them.
"Is this one of them?"
Edmund's hand swiped over the desk, missing the pilfered stack by a hairs breadth, "No, it isn't. Give it back."
Lucy flipped through the pages easily, "The author of this letter has rather odd handwriting. I'm sure King Ventotene will have a hard time reading it."
"It's not for King Ventotene," Edmund grunted as he reached for the stack again.
"Yes it is," Lucy pointed towards a line of ink, "His name is written right here."
Edmund huffed and fell back into his chair. Lucy had wondered out of his reach, her skirts folding outwards with each step.
"The ink is still wet," she noted, "Did Grace write this?"
"Yes," Edmund muttered defeatedly.
"It's rather good," Lucy praised, "Though perhaps her vocabulary could use some work."
A noise of approval left his throat, "I also thought as much."
His sister looked at him, her clear blue eyes holding a glint of mischievous planning, "Will you lend her your thesaurus then?"
Edmund's eyes were drawn to the forementioned book before he could think better of it. His thesaurus sat betwixt multiple personal leather-bound journals, the fraying and old binding in stark contrast to its neighbours. Edmund had been given the book their first Christmas in Cair Paravel and like any other beneficial book, he'd poured over it; writing in the margins and dogearing pages he might find useful in the future.
"No," Edmund answered resolutely. That expenditure would perhaps be too dear in the current situation.
Lucy's expression did not change at his dismissal, it was as if she'd expected his answer, "What a shame. I suppose I could lend her mine…"
Edmund rolled his eyes, sensing a deeper meaning in her words, "I suppose you could, if you were so inclined."
"I suppose it would be counterproductive for me to offer such a thing when yours is sitting right there," Lucy glared pointedly towards the offending shelf, "Grace might think you were going back on your promise to try to make friends."
Edmund's ears perked at the end of her sentence, his eyes narrowing in suspicion, "Have you been listening to my private conversations?"
Lucy shrugged, "You know we have spies all over the castle."
She was right; there were many spies in the employ of his family – Not that they'd ever truly needed them. Narnia's peace was prosperous and long lasting, but it never hurt to ensure it remained that way.
"I want this to work, Edmund," Lucy continued, "Your friendship with Grace will be important."
Edmund involuntarily raised a brow, "Will it now?"
"Yes."
He studied his sister for any trace of doubt. She stared back evenly, fingers stock still with Grace's letter in hand. Her face the very picture of determination. Of all the things Lucy was known for, her unwavering faith was high amongst them. On the other side of the coin, that faith always had purpose. There was very little she was not right about in some form or another.
With that thought in mind, he silently called on Aslan for strength – he would need it in great quantities in order to sustain a friendship with Grace. Especially if she was so inquisitive of everyone and everything.
Edmund sighed, a long and drawn-out noise which made Lucy smile, "I'll do my best to maintain amiability."
Lucy held the letter towards him, a peace offering, "That's all I ask."
His fingers reached towards the stack of parchment eagerly, before he thought of a better plan, "Put it with the kindling. 'Twas only a test and I've already passed feedback on to Grace."
Lucy nodded, withdrawing the proffered parchment and returning to her spot by the fire.
Edmund's eyes followed the flowing script as it was dropped amongst twigs, leaves and other scraps of paper. Edmund hoped that Lucy would not look to closely into the bucket and see the similar penmanship. He did not wish to explain to her exactly why all of Grace's work sat in that bucket.
Lucy did not move from the fireplace at first; her hands held toward the flames cautiously as she absorbed the heat. Her silence began to make him nervous, until she finally stood, cheeks plump and flushed, "You'll burn the Cair down one day if you don't keep control of that fire."
"I have it under control," Edmund shrugged her off.
"It is at least ten degrees hotter in here than anywhere else in the castle."
His lip quirked involuntarily, "Like I said, under control. Worry about your own hearth, Lu. Did the staff not put out an unrestrained fire in your rooms just the other day?"
Lucy looked bashful as she admitted, "Only a small one."
Edmund gave her an amused look. Knowing his point was made, he didn't feel the need to push further.
His sister continued to watch the fireplace worriedly, the flickering flames dancing in her cool irises, "It's such a shame that the letter will not be issued. It looked like Grace put a lot of time and effort into it."
"She did," Edmund affirmed. A guilt pooling in his stomach that his rational mind refused to acknowledge.
"I'm sure that King Ventotene would enjoy such a letter," Lucy said thoughtfully, "He so very much enjoys a lighter tone. My correspondence with him has always been so."
Edmund's sight drew to the kindling box once more. As much as he fought against it, he knew the letter was good. It was only due to its different tone that Edmund had discarded it on instinct; his mind clouded with the memories of his own correspondence with the King of Terebinthia.
In the past four days, Edmund had kept a watchful eye on the Daughter of Eve. Her writing desk had been scoured at the end of each session. To little need, it turned out. There was nary a hair out of place save the space which she used.
There were no hidden missives or sensitive information tucked away in her room either; he'd sent Shese to investigate in multiple instances.
Yet, each time she came back with the same story. Grace's only additions to her guest quarters were a couple of dresses which Susan had imposed upon her, stacks upon stacks of music sheets and a handful of painted stars atop the ceiling.
Perhaps Grace was not as terrifyingly manipulative as he'd originally thought. Every scrap of evidence seemed to point towards the outcome in brightly coloured arrows. Even his own assessment of her had turned more positive over time.
As Edmund stared exhaustedly at the tall stacks of parchment which sat atop his desk, he entertained the idea of sharing it with her. He was sure that at least some of the work in there would be complicated enough to make her face dimple in that soft concentration he'd seen before.
Lucy interrupted his thoughts, "I hope you're nice to her, whilst I am away."
Edmund's eyes instinctively returned to her face, "Did I not promise to attempt amiability?"
Lucy glared at him shrewdly, "Yes, attempt being the main word. I will not have another fiasco like the one the day the Ambassador from Calormene arrived."
Edmund grimaced, "I do not plan on anything like that happening again."
"Good," Lucy breathed in relief, "Because if it did happen again then I would not blame her for reattempting an escape."
His sister was speaking words Edmund could not comprehend at that moment. He stared dumbly after her as Lucy retrieved her own orders from atop the desk.
The dust around Lucy's skirts swirled in the billowing sunlight as she crossed the plush carpet to the doorway. She looked back at him briefly, her eyes glinting with her familiar mischievousness, "And this time, I hope that she gets away."
