XIII

GRACE

Lucy walked with a light speed, tugging Grace along by the elbow as they passed through the shadow of the wide oak tree. Even in the absence of the morning sun, the flowers glowed in beautiful hues against the shadowy grass.

Grace stared at the plush greenery longingly, wishing that she could simply lie on the bed of green and sleep but Lucy refused to slow down until they were clear of the garden gate and their steps left the echoed cobblestone pathway.

Hooved steps echoed behind them at a distant pace- Casys, Grace realised. He was following them at a safe distance; close enough to grab Grace if she tried to run, far away enough not to overhear their conversation.

Grace looked nervously to the tall trees surrounding them. They had left the safe greenery of the gardens and entered the thin line of a wood. She wasn't sure how far King Edmund's sanctions allowed her to move and did not wish to disobey them.

Grace tried to voice her concerns but Lucy hushed her.

"I'm glad I ran into you," She said brightly, "I was planning on seeing you today."

"You were?" Grace asked.

"Of course. I have good news!" Lucy grinned, there was a slight spring in her step that jostled Grace as they walked, "But first, tell me. How are you faring?"

"I'm well, I think," Grace said, a little taken aback by the turn in conversation, "The talk with Queen Susan has given me some perspective."

Lucy beamed in approval, "Good. I was hoping it would. Susan is so practical that it's hard to disagree with her when she lays out the facts."

"I was thinking of using some these funds to obtain a new dress," Grace proposed, showing Lucy the golden Lions held in her free hand, "Not that the one you've lent me isn't sufficient." She added hastily.

Lucy surveyed Grace's appearance; testing the give in her sleeve with a tug, "I suppose my clothes are a little small for you," She admitted sheepishly, "I'd imagine that chemise is in need of a wash too."

Discreetly, Grace sniffed herself. She herself was clean, grateful for the bath Queen Susan had ordered her into the day before. Apart from that, she didn't smell anything particularly pungent but since she'd been living in the chemise for a week, she was probably used to it if it did.

"It probably does," Grace agreed.

"We could go now?" Lucy suggested, "The markets over Gate Bridge are good for sturdy materials and the court dressmaker would have it finished in no time."

Grace grimaced, "I'm not sure his majesty, King Edmund would be okay with that."

Lucy rolled her eyes, "He can have nothing to say when I am here to escort you. Besides, I told you, I have good news."

Grace stared at her friend blankly, waiting for her to continue, but Lucy only grinned and pulled a scroll of paper from her dress pocket.

"For you," She offered pleasantly.

Grace took the scroll from her fingertips and gingerly unravelled it from its coil. She read the contents slowly, half focused on walking as Lucy continued to lead her in an unseen pathway between the trees. Most of the document was the same, except for one alteration halfway down the page:

'Grace, formerly of the land of Spare Oom may roam freely between the Guest Wing, Kitchens and Music Room as necessary. Any motion outside of these areas must be accompanied by a suitable guard.'

"King Edmund is reducing some of the sanctions?" Grace asked slowly, half astounded at the written words.

Lucy nodded ecstatically, "He is! Didn't I tell you he would come around?"

Grace smiled at her friend. Really, she thought that the King still had some coming around to do, considering the sanctions had not been lifted entirely. But she kept those thoughts to herself, for who was she to look a gift horse in the mouth?

"Where is the Music Room?" Grace asked, thinking back to when she had heard faint music in the hallways. It must have been close by but just out of reach.

"It is two hallways from the Guest Wing," Lucy confirmed, leading them further into the woods.

Grace hummed in acknowledgement. She was sure that Casys would be able to show her the way once. After which she would only need his company outside the named areas. She looked back to the Centaur; he was comfortably walking behind them, still maintaining that safe distance.

Grace called out to him, halting Lucy mid step.

"I have new sanctions," Grace filled him in once he had caught up, "I don't know if you need to keep them on you?"

Casys accepted the scroll with interested eyes and a short nod.

"I would recommend you read them, friend," Lucy advised, "We hope that these new sanctions will suit you as well."

Casys bowed lowly to his Queen and Grace watched him unravel the scroll as Lucy began to tug her away.

They continued down a slight decline, side stepping and assisting each other over the numerous roots in their path. The curious sound of metal on dirt and the chatter of talking animals gradually came to their ears, and Lucy's energy overflowed against her skin. Grace was beginning to wonder what Lucy was leading them towards.

The trees and consequential roots felt endless and what little sunlight there was filtered lightly through the patches of leaves. Grace inspected the oak trees as she and Lucy leaned on them for support when they passed by. None of these oak trees were as old as the one in the Eastern Garden. Nor did they hold faces within the cracks of their bark. Still, Grace wondered if these trees had a dryad of their own.

Finally, Lucy and Grace breached the tree line. Grace squinting at the blaring sun as she attempted to shield her eyes in the crook of her elbow. The sun had no effect on Lucy; she had immediately released her friends hand and bounded towards a small group of Talking Beasts.

Grace followed, ears picking up pieces of the conversation as she got closer. Upon closer inspection, she realised they were all crouched around a hole of dug dirt. There were five beasts all together, all Moles with beautiful earth coloured fur, long snouts and large pink paws.

"I'm sure they will be marvellous, Lilygloves!" Lucy exclaimed, "Just picture it; this slope will be covered in apple saplings by the years end!"

The mole to her left lifted it's snout into the air and sniffed cheerfully, "Oh yes! We will fill the hillside with hundreds of them. A fitting and useful orchard for Cair Paravel, indeed."

Lucy grinned, greeting the other moles in her usual cheery tone.

Lilygloves, the mole continued sniffing the air. His small round spectacles perched upon his snout, wobbled haphazardly with the motion. He seemed to smell her, the new curious scent leading the mole from the hole and at Grace's feet.

"Have you come to assist in the preparations?" Lilygloves asked her pertly, "We must finish planting the seeds before the evening chill sets in."

Grace looked around her, wide eyed and unsure how to address the question, "Oh, I-"

"I'm sure that Miss Grace has more pressing matters on her agenda today."

Grace whipped around, breath caught in her throat and fear in her eyes. The fear dissipated almost instantly, however, when she realised it was not King Edmund who had said the words, but a man very much like him.

When she had heard the phrase 'Same person, different font' she had never truly understood it's meaning, until now. Everything about this man mirrored King Edmund; from the gentle arch of the eyebrow to the veins that protruded from his hand, which was gripping a shovel with the same surety that King Edmund had held his sword. The differences there were between them was glaring against the similarities, but they could not be dismissed as small.

Where High King Peter's hair was golden like the threads of tapestries, his younger brothers was a rich dark brown and where King Edmund's eyes were pools of onyx, his older brothers were a clear, crisp blue. Where King Edmund wore a crisp white shirt, his brother…

Oh god.

He wasn't wearing a shirt.

"Pete!" Lucy cheered, her footsteps crunching past Grace as she launched herself into her brothers arms.

"Aren't you supposed to be in council?" Lucy asked, her shoes thudding upon their return to the dirt.

"I let Edmund lead the proceedings today," High King Peter said lightly, "It was the least I could do."

His eyes remained on Grace's face as Lucy mused, "I rather think Edmund thought so to."

Grace shook herself from her thoughts – and her gaping. She held her eyes resolutely on the ground when she dipped into a wobbly curtsy.

Lucy continued prattling about Lilygloves and apple trees until she followed her brothers eyes.

"Oh!" She exclaimed, returning to Grace's side in a flurry of skirts, "I see you've finally met Grace."

"Or something of the sort," High King Peter quipped, nodding his head regally towards Grace, "You may rise."

Grace followed the invitation, offering a small smile in thanks. Lucy had said this was the softer brother of the two – and she was sure that may be true for Lucy, being his younger sister – but the man in front of her was nothing short than great and terrifying. A being of power, tightly controlled and coiled to strike.

Convincing this King may be harder than convincing his younger brother, and she even thought that feat was impossible.

"I've heard much about you, Grace," He said with a warm smile, "My Royal Sister, Lucy, has spoken of little else since your arrival."

"That is simply not true," Lucy protested, linking her arm through Grace's once again, "Just this morning, we were speaking of Hellabora and her tree. I believe that is a different topic of conversation."

High King Peter smiled fondly, "I suppose it is."

"I'm pleased to make your acquaintance," Grace nodded courteously, Lucy's rules of royal conversation in mind. Grace had managed to bungle every introduction to a monarch of Narnia thus far and was disinterested in having the entire tetrarchy dislike her before sundown.

High King Peter returned the sentiments, ducking forward to graze his lips against Grace's knuckles chivalrously.

Grace felt her cheeks go hot, but desperately attempted to avoid acknowledging the involuntary reaction. If the High King noticed he did not comment either, simply smiling warmly as Lucy talked at him about one thing or another. Grace wasn't truly listening to the conversation.

There was no pretence to that smile or the way he spoke to Lucy and Grace. On all accounts, he held an honest and open charm about him. A trait Grace was sure worked in his favour as High King.

"Lilygloves was just instructing us on where to dig the holes," High King Peter gestured towards the slope. It was littered with dozens of pits, roughly 20 centimetres deep and wide. He looked back towards the group, a look of question in his eyes, "Perhaps, you ladies may be able to lend your expert opinion on where to plant more?"

Lucy peered over his shoulder, eyes travelling over the clean grassy slope, "I'm not sure I'd be the best person to ask. What do you think, Grace?"

Grace shrugged unhelpfully, "I'm not sure either, maybe it would be best to leave it to the professionals."

Lilygloves smiled encouragingly, "Oh, there's no harm in picking just two holes!" He said, plopping two fist sized roots into their hands.

Grace tried not to grimace at the clump of dirt and twisting roots in her palms. "Alright," She agreed.

It wasn't like Grace had never gardened before. The home she'd grown up in had an affinity for its garden and the children were encouraged to get as dirty as possible whilst helping weed and pot various plants. It was an affinity which she did not wholly share, however. More of a chore than a hobby in her mind.

She followed Lucy down the slope at a glacial space. Lucy moved as she always did, with a spring in her step and a smile on her lips, not minding whatsoever that she held a clump of tangled life in her hands.

To Grace's left, High King Peter had fallen into step; mindfully keeping an eye on his younger sister whilst he attempted to maintain a polite conversation. He didn't venture far into many topics; mainly asked how she was faring and her opinion on Cair Paravel.

Grace was grateful at his bland attempt at conversation but her replies came off slightly monotonous as she tried not trip on the slope. An effort which went unrewarded when her right foot fell clean into one such hole.

The action elicited an embarrassingly high squeal from her throat which halted suddenly when her foot made contact with the soft dirt at the bottom.

High King Peter eyed her humorously, clearly fighting a laugh at her trip. "Are you alright?" He asked, extending his hand in assistance.

"Yes," Grace grunted, keeping her eyes fixed firmly on the ground as she attempted to pry her ankle from it. "It's stuck!" She whined.

The High King took her hand and began to pull on it but nothing gave, her ankle was stuck fast in the dirt like a stubborn weed.

"Here," He said; quickly wrapping a large arm around her waist and almost making her squeak at the unexpected contact. The High King counted down, "Three… two… one…"

Then with a quick and rough jerk he plucked her ankle from the ground.

They stumbled for a moment, but High King Peter proved to be sturdy and quickly righted them both. Grace dusted herself off and inspected the traitorous ankle. It was a little sore but not enough to keep her from walking. Grace sighed in relief; at least she would not need to be carried back to the castle.

"Thank you, your majesty," Grace's mouth tilted into a grateful smile.

The High King waved it off, "There is no need. I'm sure you would have done the same in my position," There was a hint of something in his eyes, a jest? Or perhaps a test?

Grace's eyebrows raised as she continued to dust herself off, "What? Pulled you out of an ankle-deep hole with nothing but my right arm?"

High King Peter shrugged but the glint in his eyes remained steadfastly.

"I supposed I would have tried, your majesty," Grace conceded.

She was telling the truth. If the High King had fallen she would have tried to pry his foot from the hole. Whether she would be successful is another matter entirely.

The glint was appeased and the High King's eyes warmed like steam, "There is no need to be so formal in such informal quarters, King Peter is fine or 'sire' if you wish it."

Grace nodded and thanked him. Her mind in part trying to determine whether he was giving her the general rule of speaking to royalty or if he was making an allowance for her lack of knowledge.

"Are you two going to plant your trees or not?" Lucy called; skirts lifted in her hands as she forded the slope.

"Careful, Lu!" King Peter called as he sidestepped the hole Grace's ankle had been acquainted with, "You'll catch your foot in a hole."

"Oh, I'm not that silly!" Lucy said with a huff, dropping her skirts and walking in any case.

Grace's face burned, "I think I'll plant mine here," she called, "May the tree be a reminder to watch where I'm walking."

King Peter chuckled and Lucy looked between the two questioningly, "What did I miss?" She asked.

"Just me being silly," Grace smiled at her. She swept her skirts aside and kneeled by the – now misshapen – hole. The root ball had luckily not fallen far from it and was easy enough to pluck from the grass and place in the dirt hole. "What do we do now, Lilygloves?" Grace asked.

The mole in question wandered over, a slight waddle in his step due to the distance between his legs. "Have you picked a suitable hole?" He asked, peering up at her as he reached the group.

"I believe so, although it did get a little roughed up in the process," Grace said apologetically.

The mole merely waved it's hands, "No matter, no matter. Dirt is dirt my dear and we shall find you some more to cover it with," With that, Lilygloves whistled to the small group, huddled over a hole on the cliff line she assumed to be Lucy's.

Grace looked at her fingertips and cringed at the thought of getting dirt stuck under her fingernails. At this rate, she would need another bath before going to bed tonight.

However, she needn't have worried about it at all. As Lucy pulled her out of the way of the feverish band of moles she watched them cover the root ball in soil.

Lucy grinned at her, plucking a green ribbon from the sleeve of her dress and handed it to Lilygloves to mark the spot.

Grace stared at the spot on her shoulder where the ribbon was now missing.

"Don't worry, we're getting you a new dress anyway," Lucy grinned.

"A perfect spot!" Lilygloves cheered, "There is not a time in the day where this tree will not get sunlight. It is the most perfect conditions for the sweetest apples."

"I'll need to come back and try them in five years," Grace said wryly.

Lilygloves practically beamed from his snout, "That you will, my dear. Thank you both for bestowing us with such a gift."

Lucy grinned, shaking the hand of the Mole politely, "The pleasure is ours, Lilygloves. If that is all you need, Grace and I will be going now."

"Are you off to the Music room?" King Peter asked.

"Oh yes!" Grace said joyfully, "After I explore all of the new corridors, of course!"

The High King's brow crunched in confusion, "I should have thought the Music room would be your first stop?"

Grace mirrored his expression, "Why would that be?"

A beat passed where the two stared at each other in equal minded confusion and Lucy looked between them.

Then suddenly, Lucy gripped Grace's arm and looked up at her with wide eyes, "I clean forgot! We've found you a position in the household."

"You've what?" Grace asked, mind reeling at the fast pace with which the Queen spoke.

"We'd like to invite you to join Our private orchestra," Peter explained, "The Orchestrator, Margrove, is looking to extend the group and needs assistance. Will you take on the role?"

Grace thought on it, 'extend the group' could mean many things and by the look on the faces of the royal siblings, they hadn't a clue what she was in for. Grace had no reason to complain, however. Had she not asked for more work? Had she not practically begged Lucy for it? And of all the things King Edmund could have put her to work on – she shuddered at the image of herself mucking out a stable – wasn't this the tamest?

"I suppose I could see what this 'Margrove' wants me for," Grace agreed.

"That's the spirit!" Lucy grinned.

King Peter clapped his hands together soundly, "Brilliant. Then we won't keep you."

He turned to the huddle of moles and lifted his voice to theatrical valiant tones, "Come friends! Let us scatter these roots before lunch time. My Royal Sister has prepared a broad meal as a reward for our efforts."

Lucy laughed as the High King lead his band of furry friends down the slope and began tugging Grace once more into the safe shade of the tree line. "Don't mind him," She whispered conspiratorially, "He always has food on his mind."

Grace returned the smile shyly but did not respond. It was one thing for a sister to make jokes about her brother and it was another entirely to mock a King.

They continued their walk in a comfortable silence, only broken in brief intervals when Lucy pointed out small landmarks in their path. She claimed it was to help Grace find her way back to the Cair, Grace thought that Lucy just wanted to fill the still air.

A thought crossed her mind as a pitch of tents came into view from between the thick trunks of trees. Between the heavy branches weaved lively music and the clear chatter of voices in the sunlit market. It sounded heavenly.

Over the boisterous noise they were heading towards, Grace turned and asked her friend, "Do you think they have paint at these things?"

"I suppose so," Lucy mused, "It would depend on what kind of paint you're looking for."

"It might seem strange," She began, "But I'm looking for a paint that glows in the dark."

Lucy stopped and Grace to a halt at her side. "A paint that glows in the dark?" She asked incredulously, "Like magic?"

Grace shrugged, "I suppose, although where I come from. We call it science."

When Lucy did not speak Grace explained further, "I want to be able to see it after I've blown out the candles."

"Well, there might be such a thing. We can certainly ask," Lucy agreed, eyes alight with bright curiosity, "But what would you ever need something like that for?"

"I think I'd like to paint some stars."