III

GRACE

My Tears Ricochet – Taylor Swift

Lifted from the warring sea on a sun bleached cliffside, sat a glistening castle of great size and consequence. Cair Paravel was its name. When Grace had been informed of this, she thought there had never been a place named so beautifully.

Everything about the Cair glistened in the sunlight as if it had been formed from the sand on the beach situated below it. It was clear that the hands which had formed it were no child's; There was no simplicity in the design of many spires, towers and balconies which had been built into the cliffside.

It was on one of these balconies that Grace sat impatiently. After an awkward first meeting at the docks and an extremely bumpy carriage ride; Queen Susan and Lucy had left her whilst they 'held counsel with their brothers'. It was a phrase which she was not well acquainted with, but Grace could read between the lines. They were deciding her fate.

She fidgeted in her seat, nestled between two guards in shining silver armor. Their eyes shifted to her frequently and warily, like she would make a run for it at any second.

Grace could not blame them. Her appearance had disintegrated rapidly since her arrival in the sea. Her hair had always been wild with curls and frizzed at the edges. Without the proper tools it would air dry into a mess. The mess which she was sure now sat on her skull.

Her eyes felt sore from endless rubbing. After she and Lucy had finished speaking, Grace found herself unable to find sleep – the constant rocking of the ship waking her regularly.

The lack of sleep had left her restless and paranoid and Grace had almost cried in joy at the thought of dry land and left the water behind with a skip in her step.

The guards shifted to attention at the sound of fast steps and Grace looked up in interest at the approaching party.

Lucy was crossing the large balcony with increasing speed, her golden hair softly shining under the sun. She walked arm and arm with one of her elder brothers. His stride was not as hurried as hers but the difference did not hinder him. One of his long, sure strides matched three of her quick ones and the two moved harmoniously aside each other.

If her memory served her right, the dark-haired man she clung to would be either Edmund or Peter. She wasn't sure which, as Lucy had not gone into detail of their appearances.

His hair was in stark contrast to Lucy's, a deep brown which almost matched their sister, Queen Susan's. It was trimmed shorter than Grace had expected for the period. When people told stories of Kings and Queens in medieval ages, men were often depicted with shoulder length hair. However, it was a welcome difference as it reminded her of the men in her world.

While his hair did not shine in the sunlight, his eyes did. They were a dark brown with an onyx ring and gleamed with a presence of mind.

As the siblings drew closer, those eyes assessed her thoroughly. His intense black gaze was unsettling but Grace did not relent, returning it with the curious expression she was sure she possessed.

Every muscle in his body was poised to look calm; even his face was relaxed in expression. He held himself in perfect placement, the only tell of his emotions being the strong undercurrent to his dark eyes.

Grace could not discern what the exact emotion was, only that it was strong and negative. She wondered if it was directed towards her or if there was some other weight pressing upon the King's shoulders.

She needn't think about it for long, for they reached her moments later and the full force of the King's stare made it clear. She was the weight.

Beside her, the guards stepped forward and nodded their heads in respect, Grace attempted to follow their lead and dipped into an attempted curtsy. She had done this before when she met Queen Susan for the first time, but by the piteous look on the Queen's face she was sure she wasn't doing it properly. Lucy's brother, at least, had the ability to hide his grimace.

Lucy switched sides and took Graces arm with an appreciative smile, "Thank you for waiting for us, Grace."

Grace released a breath and mumbled that it was 'no trouble'. She didn't feel the need to specify that her patience was not by choice.

Lucy only patted her arm comfortingly before making introductions, "This is my brother, King Edmund."

The dark-haired King kept his distance, eyes guarded and stubborn as he stood apart with his hand held firmly on his sword hilt. He was still staring at her, assessing the situation. Grace attempted to look as non-threatening as possible, however with the current state of her hair and wild look she undoubtedly bore from a restless night's sleep, she probably wasn't giving him any comfort.

"She won't bite you, Edmund," Lucy whispered impatiently.

King Edmund gave his sister a withering look and begrudgingly stepped closer. He nodded to the guards who melted obediently into the shadows. Grace would have felt lighter, if not for his black eyes settling upon her again. It's intensity growing tenfold as he rested both hands warningly on the hilt of his sword.

Grace found she could not look away; there was something in the way he held her gaze, his black eyes mysterious and powerful in the light of day.

When he finally spoke, the words were firm and lifeless; He recounted her story briefly before telling her about the foundation of Narnia's law and the importance of fairness and some other things which Grace could honestly say she did not listen to.

It was a speech and a well-rehearsed one by the sound of his droning monotonous voice. The words came naturally to him as if he'd spoken them from birth.

When he had finished with the formalities, his tone shifted from monotonous to sympathetic. King Edmund was speaking to her directly now, the formal tone softening delicately as he outlined what would come next.

He spoke in various large words as though he were a judge upon a pedestal, detailing her sentence. A few words waded through the thick sleep in her mind which she slowly pieced together. It was all she needed to gather his meaning.

The conversation around her fuzzed at its edges and somewhere between the words 'asylum' and 'sanctions', Grace had disassociated from the situation entirely.

Her eyes flickered between the siblings as her mind struggled to focus on the reality. Lucy had taken up one of her arms in support and Grace leaned into it gratefully. King Edmund on the other hand, had taken a step back at this reaction.

Something wet and slippery dropped onto her hand, Grace looked into the sky in search for the source but found no clouds amongst the clear blue. More wetness rolled over her cheek and Grace hurriedly wiped her face of the treacherous liquid.

She startled when her hand was grasped. Lucy was looking at her worriedly.

Grace struggled to speak through the thickness in her throat, "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

By the firm line of his mouth, King Edmund must have finished speaking long ago and was displeased. He assessed her dishevelled appearance and misty eyes, "Maybe this conversation would be better had after you've had some sleep?"

"No, I slept on the boat," Grace lied stubbornly, drying her cheeks again on her sleeve.

He continued to silently frown at her until she grew frustrated with him.

"Well?" She prompted him roughly.

The King didn't move, annoyance clear in the set of his brow. He seemed undecided whether to proceed, whether the level of effort he was putting in was worth it for the individual sniffling before him.

Grace stared back levelly.

Eventually, the King sighed, his fingers grazing absentmindedly on his sword hilt once again, "We understand you are currently in a difficult position and are left without shelter. As a gesture of good will, my siblings and I offer you asylum in Cair Paravel."

Grace didn't understand, "But why would you offer me asylum when you could just send me home?"

King Edmund shook his head, "I'm afraid it's not that simple. We don't know how to send you home."

Grace looked to Lucy for support, "But you told me you came through a wardrobe. Can't I go back that way?"

Lucy rubbed her arm in small soothing circles, "My siblings and I have reigned over Narnia for nearly 13 years and our memories have faded with time. We don't know where the wardrobe is."

Thirteen years? Grace's hands shook at the thought of being stuck here longer than a week, "Surely, someone else has come across it?"

The solemn looks they gave her were answer enough. Grace's hope faltered, her voice catching on it as it left her soul, "I'm stuck here?"

King Edmund gave a tight nod, "I'm afraid so."

Her breaths shortened and she gripped Lucy's hands with adrenaline laced strength. The notion of being stuck here had not occurred to Grace and she was unprepared for the fallout.

She closed her eyes and tried to think of a way out. Willed herself to wake up in her warm bed, to the feel of smooth cotton sheets at her fingertips and glow in the dark stars on the ceiling.

When Grace opened her eyes, King Edmund was still watching her warily. His eyes constantly flickering between the two ladies as his knuckles stretched white over the hilt of his sword. He was no longer uncertain on how to proceed; Grace could see the determination in his eyes. If she reacted to the news in any way he would deem as a threat, things could get a lot worse for her.

It was hard not to give in to the anguish. To the rolling waves of emotion which broke against her skin and fought to pass it. She was so close to the life she'd always wanted. To the future she'd worked so hard for. Now it was a world away, trapped just out of her reach.

Grace tried to reconcile to the inconceivable truth. Her mind holding together by the thinnest thread of her will. She couldn't look at Lucy or King Edmund, the sting of their sympathetic looks would only serve to scatter her mind.

She refused rely on them for support. The only person who was going to look out for her best interests now was herself. It was comforting, this familiar thought. Grace let her self-reliance fuel her stubborn mind as she returned her eyes to the King's. The first step to survival was to not anger the man with the sword.

Grace released a deep and shuddering breath, "You are offering me a place to stay?"

Lucy nodded eagerly at her side, "I know it is not what you wanted but Narnia is such a wonderful place. I'm sure in time, you will come to love it as much as we do."

Grace didn't doubt that enough time with Lucy would grant her the happiness to stay forever, however, it wasn't in her plans to follow that ambition. She wondered how much freedom she would be allowed during her stay; If it was possible that she could find the wardrobe herself.

"As I mentioned, you would be staying here, at Cair Paravel," King Edmund gestured vaguely at the glistening castle.

"Would it be possible for me to search for this wardrobe while I am here?" Grace asked hopefully.

When King Edmund's face stiffened, her hopes dissipated, "We think it is best that you remain on the Cair's grounds."

It seemed that her route to freedom was not one the King viewed favourably. Grace was sure if it was up to him, she would be locked in some dreary room for the remainder of her days. Never to look at anything but the sandy bricks of Cair Paravel.

She didn't like the way he was looking at her, the distrust was all but spoken. Grace didn't like games with words, always preferring to get to the point.

There was a nasty swelling in her stomach as she spoke her thoughts aloud, "You don't trust me."

King Edmund's brows rose in mock astonishment, "No."

Grace almost fumbled at the blunt response, "Why?"

His eyes narrowed accusingly, "With all due respect, the question should be why should we trust you?"

Grace glared daggers at him. The King had managed to serve her with cold hard reason. Reason which she had no argument for. She had to give it to him, If someone had magically appeared in her house, she wouldn't trust them either.

"I suppose that's fair," She acquiesced unwillingly. Feeling like a petulant child who had been scolded.

"Good," King Edmund's brow smoothed at her acquiescence. From his belt he pulled a scroll of paper and held it aloft, "Now that the situation is understood. I've taken the liberty of transcribing the sanctions of your stay."

Trying not to look affronted at his choice of wording, Grace took the scroll gingerly from his fingertips. She broke the seal which made the paper unravel with a light swoosh. With trust being in question, she wasn't overly surprised at the rules scrawled on the thick parchment, however, that reasoning did not lessen her growing resentment towards the dark-haired king.

After a minute of scanning over the words, King Edmund became impatient, "Is there a problem?"

"No," Grace replied, nose in the paper as she committed the words to memory.

Lucy, who read the scroll over her shoulder, snorted delicately, "Was the royal seal necessary?"

Edmund merely shrugged, "It's an official decree."

"You really didn't need to take such effort on my behalf," Grace muttered sarcastically.

Her remark earned her a raised brow, "It's not for your benefit I assure you. This parchment will follow you throughout your stay."

There was little Grace could do to stop the incredulous look on her face, "Excuse me?"

"You're excused," Edmund said innocently.

Grace wasn't sure what the repercussions were for slapping a King, but she desperately wanted to find out.

"You already have a guard on me," She paused to quote the scroll directly, "'From sunrise to sundown', who I am sure will be more than capable of managing these rules. Why should I need to carry around a piece of paper?"

"You carry the paper so that all other Narnian subjects are aware of the sanctions of your stay."

"So it's a cone of shame," Grace deadpanned.

"I beg your pardon?" King Edmund spat.

Grace shot him a withering look, "It's something that is put around an animals head to stop it from licking its wounds."

Lucy laughed in amazement, "I don't think I've ever heard of such medicine."

"It's probably not common practice here because it's quite embarrassing for the animal," Grace stared at King Edmund pointedly.

"Fine," The King plucked the scroll from her fingers, "The scroll will be given to Casys who will carry it whilst on watch."

"Poor Casys," Grace remarked lowly.

Lucy ignored the comment, taking Grace's arm easily now that she was no longer needed for support. She had positioned herself between the two, "I'm glad that's settled. I was so worried that you might be upset."

Grace didn't dare look at the young Queen for fear Lucy may see just how upset she was. Now with a blockade between her and the King, Grace felt her emotions pressing harder against her skin. A heavy depression settled on her chest and sunk into her heart, it made her want to curl up and sob on the marble floor.

But she couldn't; Not here on a balcony with two monarchs and multiple guards staring at her. She had to get away.

"I need some air," Grace said monotonously. Slowly, she released herself from Lucy's grip and dipped into a short curtsey.

Lucy let her go easily but Grace could feel her worried eyes on her back as she walked away. At first, there was no destination but that changed the moment she saw the stairs lowering from the edge of the balcony. Her feet changed path before her mind caught up with their movements.

"Wait!" King Edmund called after her, "I haven't assigned you a guard."

Grace didn't stop, her pace quickening as she reached the marble stairs. It was an endless path leading downwards, with no clear destination in sight. Perfect; she was already lost, what harm could a few more steps do her?

When she reached a corner she turned, wary of whomever the King had sent after her but there was no one in sight and she was alone on the marble stairs. Grateful for the solitude, Grace let the first tears fall.

Grace felt a presence before she heard them, though it was hard to hear anyone over the rumbling waves of the beach. She was sat atop the sand, her toes deep within it's surface, just out of reach of the waves.

She had originally stalked down here with the plan to submerge herself. If she was lucky, she might have ended up back in her bed, this nightmare far behind and forgotten.

However upon setting foot on the scorching sand, she came to the stuttering realisation that she was afraid. The ocean stretched before her, it's expanse incomprehensible to her mind. Just like it had been when she'd almost drowned. She found she couldn't step foot in it. Even the very thought of swimming was barred in her mind.

Lucy unceremoniously planted herself beside her. She was uncharacteristically quiet. An action Grace was sure was meant to comfort her. Lucy was here for support, not solution.

Grace's cheeks were stingingly raw from her salty tears and she had to wipe her nose from the excess every couple of minutes. She was ashamed to be seen this way; Grace didn't like crying at the best of times, nevertheless crying in front of a stranger. In her mind, she threw daggers at the hateful image of King Edmund.

"I don't like your brother."

Lucy laughed softly, "Don't worry. He grows on you."

"We'll see," Grace sniffed.

Lucy didn't respond, simply placing a hand on Grace's back comfortingly, "How are you feeling?"

It took everything in Grace not to start sobbing again. "Not well," she swallowed thickly.

Lucy pulled a handkerchief from a pocket and offered it to Grace, "Here."

"Thank you," Grace choked, wiping the material across her face aggressively.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Lucy asked.

Grace thought about it as she wrung the material between her fingers, "I wouldn't want to burden you."

Lucy shook her head, blue eyes filled with concern, "You wouldn't be."

Grace's shoulders tightened against the thought. She wasn't used to having someone to confide in and wouldn't know where to start, "This whole thing is a nightmare that I can't wake up from."

Her friend nodded understandingly, hand moving in circles against her back. It reminded Grace of the moment they'd met upon the deck. Her eyes returned to the rumble of the waves on the shore, unable to look at the Queen and her kind eyes any longer.

After a moment of silence Grace sighed and relaxed her shoulders, "It's just… a lot to take in."

"I completely agree."

"I had a plan for my life. I've worked so hard to achieve everything I've ever wanted and this little misadventure," Grace roughly gestured towards the ocean, "has completely screwed everything over."

Once the words began spilling there was nothing to stop them and Grace found herself expelling her every thought like vomit, "I was going to see the world, I was going to write my book, I was going to show every asshole in my life exactly what I was worth, I was going to find…" Her hands clawed at the sand maddeningly as she choked on her words.

The tears had started again, burning streaks across her cheeks like a comet tearing across the sky, "I need to get home, Lucy. There must be a way to convince your brother to let me leave the castle."

Lucy sighed in resignation as her hands dropped to the sand, "I tried to fight against the sanctions but Edmund made a strong argument. I did manage to lessen them, however. Ed originally was gunning for a twenty-four-hour watch."

Grace's jaw dropped in indignation, "You're joking."

She shook her head, "I wish I was."

King Edmund had stared at her like she was a ticking timebomb; something to be feared, watched and defused before setting free. The distrust only served to make her madder, "Your brother doesn't really do trust does he?"

"He has his reasons," Lucy spoke softly, "But no matter what they are, Edmund will not relent easily. The only person who can override him is Peter."

"How would we convince him?" Grace asked, her back straightening in hope.

"You'd need to behave really well."

Grace's shoulders hunched over again, "If I was to behave really well, I'd be stuck inside my room all day."

Lucy hummed thoughtfully.

"I can't sit by and twiddle my thumbs all day, Lucy, I'll go mad."

Lucy took a hold of her arm comfortingly, "It's alright. We'll figure something out."

Grace watched as her friend thought, only slightly comforted by the plan before them. It wasn't a very good one, if the High King was anything like his brother then it might end with her locked in a cell.

"What are your talents?" Lucy asked.

Grace's brows knitted together, "Talents?"

Lucy looked at her meaningfully, "Yes, talents. Is there anything special you can do?"

"No," Grace deadpanned.

"How about skills?"

"Aren't they the same thing?"

"A talent is a natural gift you are born with. A skill is something you have learned," Lucy explained.

Grace thought for a moment, there was not much she could do well that would serve her in this time. Her current work mainly involved computers which were clearly unavailable and her hobbies consisted of writing and baking. Her mind hung on the last word, was baking the same in this world?

"I've spent the last two or so years learning to make sourdough," Grace offered.

"Sourdough?"

"It's a kind of bread," she clarified, "But there is a fermented mixture used to make it."

Lucy looked as though she wasn't following, but gave an easy smile in any case, "I'll take your word for it. I don't know much about bread."

"It's rather simple really."

Her friends eyebrow's raised in disbelief, "So simple that it takes two years to learn?"

Grace laughed, "It's not meant to. Sometimes the bread would turn out well, and then other times it would be a mess. It took me a long time to figure out what the defining factor was."

"I see," Lucy said thoughtfully, "So sourdough bread is temperamental?"

Grace gave Lucy a conspiratorial look, "My sourdough bread is."

They shared a laugh. Grace felt lighter with the movement, if a little delirious. The low sleep was beginning to catch up with her.

"I guess if that is your only skill, then we could put you to work in the kitchens," Lucy pondered.

"Just making bread?" Grace was convinced that making bread would not fill the empty time before her.

Lucy smiled at her encouragingly, "I'm sure there is more they can teach you."

She supposed her friend was right. It was a far better outcome than staring at blank walls for the rest of her life – and she had a feeling it would be the rest of her life if King Edmund had any say in it.

Grace sighed in resignation, "How do I get a job in the kitchens?"

Lucy grinned, pleased that her idea had taken hold, "Leave it to me."