XXII
GRACE
Promise – Ben Howard
It wasn't until the cool crisp air hit her skin that Grace felt like she could breathe again. Her chest heaved against the confines of her dress as she leaned against the archway for support.
She was surprised that King Edmund had allowed her to leave so easily. He had not ordered a guard to accompany her, nor had she felt the burn of his gaze on her back. If Grace wasn't so focused on catching her breath, she might have had the foresight to see some kind of plan in his actions. But at that moment, it wasn't his plans which concerned her.
The haunting image of Margrove entered her mind. There was no doubt that he had broken one of his legs; Lucy's expression had told her as such. She wanted to go back into the hall and find him, but upon looking back into the crowd of courtiers she blanched and decided against it.
Grace was relieved that she had not bungled up the dance but she still remained perturbed as to how things had turned out. Her waist throbbed with the imprint of his hands which made Grace run her hands over them in turn as she tried to brush the feeling away. Fifteen turns of the Long Trot and thirteen of them within the King Edmund's grip.
An incredulous laugh bubbled past her lips; she clamped her hand over them reflexively. Of all outcomes to the night, this one was the least expected. She supposed the act was quite chivalrous on his part and would give credit where it was due, however, it was entirely out of character for what she'd seen of him.
Grace shook her head, disbelieving of the thoughts within it. Surely, she couldn't forgive him that easily? One act of kindness did not make up for a month of calculated imprisonment. She'd allow him one lapse in judgement but would not dare to hope for better.
Above her, the constant flickering glow of the torches did little to stem the light of the stars. Grace stared up at them in wonder; noting that not a single constellation in the sky was familiar to her. With the sheer number of stars in the sky, she wondered how one would even make constellations to begin with.
Under it, the dim glow of the torches did little to light the area. Nervous that she was not alone, Grace looked about but there was little to be afraid of; apart from the guards stationed on the inner hall, the balcony seemed to be secluded enough. She ventured closer towards the stone railing, hands trailing across the rough texture of the brick. This was it, if she wanted to make a run for it, the time was now.
The thought was half-hearted at best and even Grace could tell that she wouldn't truly go through with it. After her earlier attempt it was clear that she had no idea how to survive in a time like this; that paired with her limited knowledge of Narnia would probably end with her dead in a ditch.
"It's a long drop."
Grace started, nearly jumping out of her skin as she flinched backwards towards the railing.
King Edmund stood stoically in the archway, the warm torchlight dancing across the serious set of his face, "The chances of hitting the rocks below are higher than reaching the deep sea. I wouldn't recommend jumping."
Grace tried to calm her heartbeat as she leaned against the stone bricks for support, "I wasn't planning to jump."
The King raised his eyebrows and looked pointedly towards her grip on the stone.
Grace released it reflexively, "I suppose if I were to choose between escape options, that one would be the least appealing."
"I'm glad to hear it," King Edmund remarked. He meandered towards her place on the balcony, torchlight catching the silver cloak which had been artfully draped over his shoulder.
Grace turned away from him, instead choosing to lean forward so she might see just how far a drop it actually was. Her eyes were met with the rocky chaos of the waves below, between the foamy black ocean jutted dark rocks, eroded into impaling spikes. There was no hope for a quick drop into the sea, even if that was her plan.
He stopped half a metre away from her perch on the stone but Grace didn't look up to confirm it or greet him. She didn't need to; the feeling of his eyes burning into her back was confirmation enough.
"Are you going to push me?" Grace asked lightly.
"You think I would do such a thing?" King Edmund returned.
She didn't move, "I think you would if it meant finally being rid of me."
"I wouldn't," He persisted. As if to make a point, the King took her by the elbow and eased her gently from the ledge.
Grace allowed herself to be turned, looking up at his darkened face. There was little light but that of the moon, it's cold glow covering everything in hues of greys and blue. It made King Edmunds face colder, if it were possible.
He let go of her arm and sighed, opting to lean against the ledge of the brick casually. It was odd for Grace to see him like this, though she supposed in the two times she had seen him, he wasn't in a position to relax against anything.
The silence dragged and although Grace would not say it was uncomfortable, she found herself on edge. The chances that King Edmund had sought her out to sit in silence were slim to none and the seconds which ticked by only served to further her impatience.
"You know; your older brother always kisses my hand when we meet but you don't. Why is that?" Grace asked.
King Edmund stared at her strangely, "Do you want me to kiss your hand?"
Grace silently cursed her impatient tongue, "No, I just meant that it seems to be a form of greeting here."
"It's common amongst the members of the court to partake in such greetings," the King explained, "I find the practice ingenuine."
"Ingenuine?"
"Indeed," King Edmund sighed, "The life of a courtier is often so. To get ahead, one must appeal to their betters. For some, this takes the form of acts of ingenuine fondness."
Grace looked thoughtful at this. The High King Peter did not give her this impression; with his kind actions yet honest behaviour towards her, he was anything but ingenuine.
"Your brother acts this way and he is the High King," she voiced.
The King smiled softly, "My brother is the exception to this rule. He takes part because he believes that all should be treated the same."
Grace's eyebrows raised in surprise, "But you don't agree with this?"
The King gave her a withering look, "I do agree with it," he answered shortly, "However, in the choice between ingenuity and truth, I will always side with the latter. I'm not a believer in false flattery."
This much Grace could believe of him. In the two times they had met he had spoken to her in stinging truths; stripping her down with harsh words and threats that she'd returned.
Grace's throat thickened at the memory and she felt herself sour to the man beside her, "Is there a reason you're here?" She asked, "Other than to make sure I don't escape."
The King stared ahead resolutely; his dark eyes catching the light of the torches on the archway as he thought. He seemed to be battling with something, or maybe he was planning his next words carefully. Grace waited, arms crossed with a frown on her face, whatever he had to say couldn't be good if he was overthinking it this much.
When at last King Edmund spoke, his voice was softer. His face stiffly representing the calm he was trying to exude with his words. It was betrayed by the feeling behind his eyes again, something moving in waves that Grace couldn't determine from sight alone.
"I have felt for some time now, that you may be owed an apology."
Grace's brows shot higher than she'd ever felt them, "Really?" She asked, the sarcastic tone practically dripping onto the rough brick, "What has brought on this radical change of heart?"
"Don't mock me," The King clipped.
"I do not," Grace persisted, "But I'm not one to believe in miracles, sir. You must convince me."
"It is not a miracle; it is common sense."
"I'm surprised you can finally see such a thing."
He groaned, "Do you ever listen?"
"Do you?" Grace challenged him, "In the two times I have spoken to you, your majesty, you have shown little to no care for my wellbeing. Why should I believe that you have suddenly seen the light of my innocence."
The King glared at her so harshly that it made Grace flinch away, "I never said that you were innocent."
"No?" Grace goaded, "Only that you owe me an apology. If not for being blind to my innocence then what could you possibly need to apologise to me for?"
"I'm starting to think that you no longer deserve it," the King grumbled.
"Well, you've come this far. It's too late to back out now."
"I was going to apologise for my harsh behaviour," He bit out, "But I can see that it is a moot point whilst arguing with you."
Grace looked at him incredulously, "That's it? 'I'm sorry I was a little bit mean' is your torturous apology?"
His eyes rolled, "I was not tortured by it."
She ignored him, "Not to mention, your apology focuses on your method of delivery. Not the fact that you have held me prisoner for a month and denied me every possible chance of getting home."
"You have no one to blame but yourself for that," he returned.
"Excuse me?"
The King stood, towering over her by a foot of distance, "Did you think your escape attempt would go unnoticed?"
Grace felt the blood leave her face. Her eyes grew wide as she shrunk back from his towering form.
"Those guards report directly to me," King Edmund continued, "All they did was confirm what I already suspected of you."
"It was my first night here," Grace protested, "You had just told me I was trapped. What did you expect me to do?"
"I expected that you'd trust us to help you," He gritted.
Grace scoffed, "I had barely known you a day and your actions in that timeframe confirmed what I already suspected of you."
"I will not apologise for my actions that day," The King seethed, "They were in service of my family."
"How?" Grace's high-pitched outrage rang against the clear air, "How does it serve your family to lock me up?"
"We had no idea who or what you were," King Edmund defended, "I had to take precautions to ensure you could not harm anyone."
"So; you confined me to the castle, threatened me with solitary confinement, and completely ignored my protests on the matter because you were afraid I would hurt your family?"
He nodded, "I regret going as far as frightening you to do it, but yes."
Grace shook her head disbelievingly, "I won't listen to this."
She turned to leave, her dress scratching against the stone bricks softly as she moved.
King Edmund grasped her arm, eyes wide in desperation, "Don't."
Grace tried to tug her arm free, but it only served for him to add another hand to it.
"Please," He rasped, "Hear me out."
Grace paused in her attempts to claw his hand from her arm and sighed. Her anger began to dissipate at the earnest look in his eyes. In truth, she knew that if she really wanted to, Grace could have pulled her arm from his grip and he would have honoured it.
But then how would she get home? The High King had made it clear; King Edmund was the key to her freedom and if she had to listen to him to obtain his trust, that is what she would do. She stared at him expectantly, hair breezing across her face with the soft wind.
He let her arm go, eyes watchful to see if she would bolt at the first chance, when she didn't he began anew, "I'm sorry. I am aware that these past few weeks have been difficult for you. I didn't know that my words would have such meaning that you would lock yourself in your room for fear of them."
This gave her a small amount of solace for Grace had thought that he'd let her rot in there on purpose.
"I didn't know about your confinement until Susan told me and by that point, there was little I could do to remedy my mistake. I regret the way I spoke to you in the woods. There is no excuse; but I will say that my actions were in part due to your attempted escape the night before and the stress of the days task. At the time I was angry at you, when instead, I should have seen the escape attempt for what it was, desperation."
Grace opened her mouth in indignation but he amended himself immediately, "Desperation to go home."
Her lips shut as soon as she'd opened them.
"I hope that whilst you may see they are unjustified you might understand that everything up until now, has been to keep my family safe."
"Your family knows that I mean them no harm," Grace disputed.
"And they are the better people for it," King Edmund agreed, "It is an unfortunate curse on my being that I cannot be so trusting."
Grace read between the lines, 'And until I trust you, you cannot leave'.
She sighed softly, "This doesn't help me get home and if you are so untrusting then there seems to be no chance of it ever happening."
The King's eyes shifted, "I never said it wasn't possible."
"In our current state it is," Grace rebuffed, "I've seen you three times in the span of a month, there is little trust to be grown from that."
He stared at her earnestly, "Then I will try harder to make your acquaintance."
Grace scoffed, "I doubt you'll have time for that. Aren't you too busy being a King?"
"Being a King gives me the fortunate opportunity to make time," King Edmund countered.
Her answering smile was small, but Grace felt it crack at the resentment she was clutching inwardly, "May I ask, what brought this on?"
"It has become clear to me that your time with Margrove and in the kitchens is sufficient evidence of your hard work and dedication," He answered simply.
Grace's brow rose sardonically, "Did one of your sisters tell you to say that?"
"No, I can think for myself."
"Oh? What evidence have you of this free thinking?"
"Your dancing," King Edmund clarified, "No one could complete the Long Trot without a fierce determination. It is incredibly difficult, even more-so for a human. The dance was not made for us; our flat feet are tricky to navigate in fast paced movement."
Grace thought back to the first day she'd learned the dance; in the days after she had accumulated bruises all over her body and her muscles ached from the endless hours of effort. She wondered how many the King had earned whilst learning.
"You seem to have managed it."
King Edmund smiled fondly, "When We were crowned Aslan granted me the West. I've spent many months there overseeing it's growth during Our rule."
Grace nodded appreciatively, "How long did it take for you to learn The Long Trot?"
"Roughly eight months."
Her eyes snapped to his face, "That long?"
The King chuckled lowly, "I was not the most graceful being," as if to make a point, he tapped rhythmically on the stone balcony, "There was no 'dance' in my step."
"You seem like you manage well enough now."
His fond eyes swam with unseen memories, "It's the years of practice and determination."
Grace allowed him a moment within them. He seemed more peaceful this way. The dark brown colour had smoothed from bark to hot cocoa and the waves of emotion had steadied to a serene ripple.
"How is it that you picked it up so quickly?" King Edmund asked with a slightly envious tone.
Grace shrugged, "I've spent most of my life in dance classes. I'm not the best, but I've learned to pick up patterns quickly."
"Was that your occupation in Spare Oom?"
Grace scoffed, "Definitely not, I was never talented enough for that."
"Didn't seem that way to me," King Edmund noted softly.
Grace bristled and looked away, uncomfortable at the compliment.
"What was it that you did before?" He probed, "You clearly have a little talent in making bread, but I don't believe that that it is enough to make a career," He gestured to her vaguely, "You dance well, but have claimed that is not it either."
"Glad to hear you're enjoying the bread," Grace mused lowly.
King Edmund looked at her in earnest, "These two things are all I know of you; thus I cannot make another educated guess."
"Then make an uneducated one," Grace replied.
The King became motionless, stunned into silence at the unexpected challenge.
Grace grinned cheekily at his reaction – she enjoyed throwing him off kilter. She let him squirm for a moment before she relented, "I was a secretary at a law firm."
It took a moment for the King to respond; something akin to recognition across his face, "A secretary?"
Grace didn't like his tone, "Does that surprise you?"
"I'm having trouble picturing you answering to anyone."
"I'm very good at my job," Grace defended, "I'll thank you to leave your snarky comments out of it."
King Edmund smiled; it was small and fleeting but Grace caught the upturned ends before they disappeared. He leaned against the stone balcony and breathed, "The Lion works in mysterious ways."
Grace's sight tore from his lips, "Pardon?" but whatever he'd muttered was lost on her ears and he did not do her the curtesy of repeating it.
The King crossed his arms thoughtfully, "I think I may have the solution to our collective dilemma."
"Oh?" Grace asked, joining him against the stone.
He paused, the internal struggle present in his eyes once again. There were a few beats in the silence when Grace thought the King might scratch the idea all together, but he did not and when he spoke the resolution was clear.
"You'll come and work for me."
Her eyebrows raised at his choice of wording; disliking an outcome which was decided without her input, "Will I?"
The King nodded, "My workload is growing and I have thought of employing some assistance to lessen the strain."
"And where does this fit with my positions in the Orchestra and Kitchens?" Grace asked.
"We'll start small," He decided, "It won't affect your other positions yet; the work I have in mind can be completed between your current shifts."
It sounded reasonable. Her time in the kitchens had grown shorter as time passed; She had spent time with Mrs Badger, going over the fundamentals of the bread making process. If she was to leave Narnia, she did not want to leave her positions unfilled. Her time with Margrove often didn't start until after lunch and continued for the rest of the day. There was plenty of time in between for further work – in fact, Grace welcomed the idea. There was just one thing she didn't welcome.
"If I agree," She began, "I would like the boundary to be clear."
The King listened in interest.
"I don't work for you," Grace stipulated, "I am merely assisting you."
His face wrinkled in confusion, "Why can't you work for me?"
"It will be difficult to become friends if there is such a barrier between us."
The King rubbed a hand over his chin thoughtfully, "I suppose you're right."
"Good," Grace exhaled, "If that's agreed then we needn't let Hellabora know about it."
He looked at her in bewilderment, "Why ever not?"
"Because I don't want to be paid," Grace explained.
"If you'll be completing work on my behalf then you will be compensated for it," King Edmund insisted.
Grace shook her head adamantly, "No. If I'm being paid by you then I work for you. I won't have that hanging over my head every time we speak."
"It's not right," The King disagreed.
"If the work is so small that it can fit between my time in the Kitchens and the Orchestra then it's not worth paying me for in any case," Grace returned.
King Edmund did not reply, he only continued to stare at her with that disapproving frown on his lips.
Grace softened; understanding his position but knowing that she could not compromise on her own, "These are my terms. We work together to build trust without money or hierarchy getting in the way or we continue as we are now."
The look on his face at the latter made her want to laugh – Grace had to agree she did not like it either but what other option was there apart from the third that they left unsaid; King Edmund consenting to her freedom.
The King sighed and considered the situation, "I suppose I agree to your terms, then."
Grace's mouth stretched into a wide smile, "I'm glad. I was willing to fight you on it if you wanted to continue as is."
"I could tell," King Edmund replied wryly.
"When do we start?"
He stood wearily from his perch on the railing and began to cross the balcony in stride, "I will speak to Casys about delivering you tomorrow morning."
"Do I need to bring anything?" Grace asked.
He looked back fleetingly with a small smirk on his face, "It would be most useful if you brought yourself. A positive attitude would also be beneficial."
Grace rolled her eyes, "Very funny."
"One of the many things you'll learn about me."
Grace watched him leave, a small pit in her stomach. She knew she was forgetting something… Some token of gratitude she'd yet to bestow; for regardless of the jarring remarks Grace had thrown his way, King Edmund saw reason enough to grant her the chance she'd been asking for.
"Your Majesty," Grace called.
He turned to her expectantly, face half lit from the light in the archway.
"Thank you."
The King smiled softly, "Get some sleep, Grace. Tomorrow is a new day."
END OF PART I
PART II WILL RELEASE ON 31/12/2024