XXX

EDMUND

Daylight - Cinematic – David Kushner

The door to Peter's study closed with a heavy thud as the urgent scuffing of his boots picked up pace. Late, Edmund was late, again. It seemed to be becoming a habit of his where Grace was concerned.

He hadn't meant to be absent for Grace's arrival, but with the arrival of Lucy's first letter there hadn't been much choice. As soon as the parchment was placed into his awaiting palms he was off, only stopping once to instruct Shese to let Grace in upon her arrival.

Edmund cursed his impatience, in leaving the room so quickly he'd failed to set out Grace's work or stow away some of the more sensitive matters within the mess.

He supposed it was not so much of a risk, the past days working with her had shown that Grace was trustworthy – Or at least, trustworthy where trade deals were concerned. In fact, he now deemed her reliable enough to provide more than a simple test.

The work that awaited her today was simple but nonetheless would be useful towards the goal of his trust. That effort alone ought to count for something, right?

As the familiar outline of his study door burned into his retinas, Edmund picked up the pace. There were none before the door, except for Sheese who stood warily at its entrance.

"I take it Grace made it on time then?" Edmund panted as he reached her, "Good."

His hand made towards the handle, only to be covered by the large paw of the Winged Panther.

"Your Majesty, there has been an upset," Shese murmured, her dark eyes worriedly darting to the corridor behind him.

"An upset?" Edmund frowned.

Shese dropped, "Yes. The Daughter of Eve was here a while ago but she left the room just as quickly."

Edmund froze, his darkened eyes following the Winged Panthers down the corridor he had just travelled, "What has been done to recover her?"

"Casys is with her, though, their current whereabouts is unknown to me. I remained at the door should she decide to return."

Edmund's hand laid upon the handle, fisting around the warm brass until his knuckles turned white. His mind was a whirlwind of questions. Why had she come only to leave? Had she seen something upon his desk? Something which could finally be useful to her or whomever she was working for?

For all his thoughts, only one short question managed to work its way past his lips, "Did she have anything?"

The Winged Panther only stared at him with blank confusion, "I beg your pardon, your Majesty?"

Edmund's eyes closed against the pressure building in his skull, "When Grace left the study, was she holding anything?"

"A single sheet of parchment, Sire."

His eyes snapped open in cold fury. The brass handle rattled under Edmund's grip as the study door was thrown aside. He did not care to close it behind him as his thoughts recurred in an unfriendly loop. The rhythm of his steps matching the pounding in his skull.

Had he truly been right all along?

There was a sickening sense of satisfaction as he crossed the carpet to his desk. The chance to say 'I told you so' only disquieted by how Grace's betrayal would affect his siblings. Peter would be disappointed, Susan would lament the loss of a friend and Lucy… sweet naïve Lucy…

Edmund was going to kill that woman.

But as he reached the parchment covered wood, he found nothing. Not a sheet or pencil out of place. Everything was exactly as he had left it half-an-hour ago. That is, except for the spattering of soot and ashes all over the contents of his desk.

Ashes?

Edmund's head whipped towards the hearth. It sat innocently, the flames perhaps a little more robust than usual. He moved for the poker – hoping to shuffle a few of the logs about to lessen its rage – when the toe of his boot hit something hard. He yelped and recoiled back from the offending object.

The poker wasn't in its usual holder on the wall, in fact he'd nearly tripped over it. He glanced between the holder and the poker which lied mockingly on the stone floor of the hearth. He didn't remember leaving it there.

As Edmund leant to retrieve it, he noticed there was far more amiss then he'd originally credited. The grate of the fireplace radiated heat, some spots taking on that molten bright glow he had become familiar with. An expanse of ashes covered the stone floor, some still glowing brightly against the cool white surface.

On closer inspection, the white was not that of the stone at all. It was parchment, spattered and covered with Graces handwriting. How had that gotten there? Edmund's dark eyes trailed slowly to the kindling bucket, noting the splay of branches had been disturbed from the placement he'd left them in.

Edmund sucked in a short and smoky breath, surely she couldn't have? He almost didn't want to look but there was little to temper the dismayed curiosity that had set into his fingertips. They grasped the rim of the bucket – noting it was still uncomfortably warm but not enough to scorch the skin – and tipped the content of the bucket into his field of view.

When his eyes met with the black emptiness of twigs and leaves, Edmund's stomach lurched.

She knew.

Grace was going to chew his ear off and it would be no less than he deserved. His hands hurriedly wiped off each sheet as he slotted them back into the kindling bucket. As they did, Edmund's mind kept track of every work that passed through his sight.

He knew them all, had poured over them more intensely than he should have from the moment she'd placed them upon his desk. There was something in the way she wrote that was vastly different to any writing style he'd ever seen. It was as if she'd taken the storytelling voices of the Centaurs and put them to parchment.

Whilst – in theory – that writing style was hardly appropriate for the work she undertook, somehow Grace had made it work. The levity of her speech adding charm and thus making it influential over the reader. It was a talent he hoped to employ on some of his more unwilling negotiators in the work he gave her today.

Clearly, with Grace's disappearance, that may no longer be an option.

The last of the sheets were tossed into the bucket. His hands stained with soot and ink which he carelessly wiped on his pants. All work was accounted for, except for one. The letter to King Ventotene was missing.

A curse passed Edmund's unwilling lips.

In a movement swift as the current of a winding river, Edmund was on his feet again and striding out of the study door. He turned at the hallway, following the hallway he had just trekked and with it the direction in which Shese had stared after moments ago.

The Winged Panther followed him in stride, "Where are you going, your Majesty?"

"To find Grace," Edmund answered, his stride lengthening as moments passed, "Stay by the door, Shese. In case she should return."

The air was crisp and cool against his skin as he strode down the marble hallway. It was almost too cold, the breeze brushing against its sweaty exterior in a piercing caress.

Edmund shuddered, his hands absentmindedly rubbing against the fabric covering his arms. The sooner he found Grace and got this blessed argument over with, the better.

It was at times like these that Edmund was grateful for the excess of guards and spies within the Cair. It had taken only three encounters for him to ascertain the direction in which Grace had fled.

A relieved sigh left his throat as he cleared the shade of the archway and stepped into the warm sunlight of the balconies. The chill that clung to his skin began to disperse, the only tell it had even been there in the unseen goosebumps that remained.

His dark eyes searched the silhouettes of countless courtiers, all languidly strewn about the marble terrace in small parties no larger than three or four. The sight was usual for this time of day, Breakfast would soon be taken in their private rooms and all at court preferred to partake in some gossip before they broke their fast.

When it was clear that none among them matched Grace in height, colour or spirit, Edmund deflated. Perhaps his informants had been mistaken?

As he continued to wade through the crowd his head turned this way and that, frantic to find some trace of the auburn hair he'd found so irritating but a day ago.

"Are you well, your Majesty?"

Edmund started, his wild gaze landing on the steadfast form of Lord Peridian. The Lord looked at him warily, his grey eyes searching the King's face for the source of his troubles.

At his friends concern Edmund smoothed his features, a little abashed that he'd forgotten himself amongst company. He nodded respectfully to the Lord, "I am well. I thank you for your concern, Peridian."

The Lord nodded in return, "I am grateful to hear it your Majesty. I must raise some concern, however, you do seem quite stressed. May I ask, what has brought on such concern from my King?"

"I was merely looking for one of Our charges," Edmund replied.

"Ah, the Daughter of Eve from Spare Oom?" Peridian asked.

"Yes," Edmund spoke with barely concealed relief, "Tell me, did you see her come this way?"

There was a thoughtful frown upon the Lords face as he replied, "I must confess I have yet to make the acquaintance of the young lady, however, there is gossip – as you well know – which speaks to her appearance. A description which matched someone who did flitter across this balcony recently."

"Did you see which way she went?"

"I'm afraid not," Lord Peridian replied, "She disappeared amongst the peoples almost as soon as she had come. I must say, the Daughter of Eve was quite adept in weaving her way through them. The only casualty of her haste was my daughter, who was knocked to the ground in the kerfuffle."

Edmund nodded with slight disappointment, "I see. I am sorry to hear Our ward has caused such a disarray. I should like to apologise to the Lady Eliane for the intrusion if she is available."

The Lord perked at the extended olive branch, "My daughter is just cleaning herself off, Sire. I am sure she will be back at any moment."

Lord Peridian looked about, catching sight of a familiar slender figure as it waded through the throngs of the crowd atop the balcony.

"Say," He added, "Perhaps Eliane may be able to point you in the direction of the Daughter of Eve."

"Wouldn't that be the Lion's Luck," Edmund agreed with a hopeful smile.

The Lady in question wandered towards them slowly; offering small gentile smiles to all she passed. Her hair was plaited in a long dark braid, the only sign of distress amongst the strands being the few which were pulled from it. Her dress of a dark blue was haunted with patches of stubborn dirt and the water with which she'd obviously tried to clean it.

Edmund concealed a long sigh, it seemed that atop receiving an ear beating from Grace he would have to scold her and he was sure that would go over well. There was nothing to be done to the contrary, however, if Susan found out he'd let this slide he'd never hear the end of it.

When Lady Eliane reached the two, Edmund attempted to channel his brothers amiability. Immediately upon her arrival, he took her offered hand and brushed an airy kiss over her knuckles, "Lady Eliane."

"Your Majesty," She returned with a short curtsey before she turned to her father, "Well I have done my best father, but I will need to change after our fast is broken."

"Of course, of course," Peridian smoothed a hand over her shoulders as he gave her a once-over, "I will say that you look much better, my dear. Does she not look well, my King?"

"She does indeed," Edmund agreed, "How could I be remiss as to not remark upon it? My apologies, Lady."

The Lady Eliane grinned brilliantly, "Think nothing of it, my King."

"Now, what is it we were just speaking of Sire?" Peridian asked, eyes staring unseeingly at his King.

"The whereabouts of the Daughter of Eve," Edmund prompted with barely concealed impatience.

"Ah, yes!" The Lord turned to his daughter, "Tell me, Eliane. The Daughter of Eve ran into you earlier, did you see which way she went?"

The Lady Eliane's lips quirked into a scowl, "I could not see much from the ground."

Edmund could see not much information would be gleaned past the Lady's first impression of Grace and sought immediately to soothe the wound, "My Royal Siblings and I offer an apology on behalf of Our ward," He offered softly, "Grace has not been herself this morning. I'm sure she did not mean to injure your Ladyship in anyway."

The words did their part as the Lady Eliane's features softened drastically, her eyes warm and entreating as she replied, "No, I can see she meant no obvious harm. I believe she was headed in the direction of the shore."

On instinct, Edmund's eyes drifted past the Lady's shoulder to the endless expanse of ocean. They flickered back to Peridian and his daughter as he nodded gratefully, toes itching to descend the endless steps leading to Emperor's Beach.

Edmund grasped the Lady Eliane's hand in earnest, "I will have Alsira sent to your quarters to see if anything can be done for your dress. Would this afternoon suffice?"

Lady Elaine's eyes brightened at the prospect, "This afternoon would be perfect, Sire."

Edmund smiled, "Good, then if you might excuse my rudeness, I will go and see to the Daughter of Eve directly."

Peridian clapped Edmund soundly on the back as the King made his exit, "Go with His grace, Sire."

Edmund ducked under the Lord's arm, a small smile on his face as he weaved through the gaps in the crowd.