Notes on the release of Part II:

Hello! I just wanted to thank everyone for their kind words regarding this work. I've worked hard since September to bring Part II into fruition... a bit too hard if you ask me.

It will be released over the next couple of days and as you might notice... its big. Almost double the size that I planned for Part II to be.

The story kind of took a life of it's own and there were may crevices that needed to be delved into, it was about a month into writing this that I realised that everything I planned for Part II was going to be too much for a 50k word limit, and so I decided to half the amount of events and section the story into four parts instead.

And so now I'm here, two days from New Years Eve and Part II is still not finished and boasts 90 thousand words.

I really want to emphasise that this is an absolute slow burn, I'm working very hard on building something tangible between Grace and Edmund, something that is believable and rooted in more than simple attraction.

Hopefully, I've done my job well.

Anyways TLDR - Story grew legs, will be four parts instead of three and this part is MASSIVE (and might I add at the time of writing this, not finished - you'll have the whole thing by the 7thish of January if I get my ducks in a row)

Enjoy! As always, please let me know if anything is blaringly wrong.

PART II

XXIII

EDMUND

Nobody's Soldier - Hozier

The sharpened steel in Edmund's hand cut through the morning light in swift strokes, the motion effortless and reflexive in his practiced hands. His skin was coated in a thin layer of sweat which provided little relief from the staunch heat of the firepit beside him.

He didn't mind, Edmund preferred the heat to the chilly morning air that brushed hauntingly across his skin. He hated winter. Every year he wished Narnia lived in an eternal spring – just like it had seemed to when he was young – and every year he was disappointed.

Another swipe of his wrist, another block of an invisible foe. It was mindless practice of the forms he'd been taught by Orieus all those years ago. Of course, Edmund knew more complicated forms, but when his mind buzzed the way it did today, he preferred to get back to basics.

The repetitive movements calmed Edmund, a reminder of a simpler time when much less was expected of him. Now-a-days, he felt like he was constantly toeing the line of a cliffs edge. The endless expanse of terrifying possibility laid bare before him. The arrival of Grace only served to heighten the feeling; he felt as if he was bent over for balance, one foot hanging haphazardly over the emptiness.

Their negotiations last night had done nothing to quiet the feeling. If anything, it had made it worse.

What was he thinking? Getting involved with the woman was a recipe for danger.

Edmund supposed there was sound logic in both of their arguments last night, however, and even he knew there was no chance that her situation would improve without it.

Crack!

Edmund started; his grip released the hilt of his blade, only to find it did not fall to the floor.

He'd hit the dummy.

Edmund grimaced at the steel lodged within the wooden shoulder. He dislodged it hastily, ensuring to take time and care in examining the metal for any scratches or cracks. When there was no damage found, he breathed a sigh of relief; grateful that there was no need to reforge his sword again.

His sword arm dropped to his side, the steel tip grazing the grass with a soft crunch. Behind him he heard Shese yawn languidly.

Edmund spared the Winged Panther a look over his shoulder. She hadn't moved, the only sign of life in the irritated twitch of her left ear.

Having already felt guilty for waking her so early, Edmund was relieved to have not stirred her. It couldn't be helped, however – one could only toss in their bed for an hour before they went mad. There was a nervous energy that had settled into his bones which would not be released with sleep alone.

A large and slitted yellow eye opened to meet his gaze. Edmund jumped from the acknowledgement as he faced his sworn protector fully, "I thought you were sleeping."

"I was," the Winged Panther stretched, "It's hard to continue when someone is watching you."

Edmund apologised, picking up his sword as he joined her at the stone wall.

"It is past dawn, your majesty," Shese observed.

"Yes, it is," Edmund agreed, fingers deep in a polishing rag as he buffed the steel surface of his blade.

Shese eyed him critically through narrowed slits, "Do you not wish to clean yourself up before the Daughter of Eve arrives?"

Edmund sighed deeply, brow furrowing as he focused on a stubborn speck of dirt, "I have plenty of time before Grace leaves the kitchens."

The Winged Panther sniffed the air, "It seems breakfast is well underway. I smell sausages, eggs and toast. She can't be too far off."

A thunderous grumble reverberated from his stomach at the thought and Edmund fought the urge to snort at the impertinent stare Shese was giving him, "What are the chances of getting another round in without being late?"

The Winged Panther's teeth shone in her wide grin, "Slim to none."

Edmund groaned and plucked his possessions from the stone top, "Onwards, then."

His boots trudged soggily through the mud as they followed the trail to the Cair. Edmund didn't bother to go around the patches that were messier than the others. What would be the point if he was going to bathe anyway?

Each step felt heavier as he marched, though, he knew it wasn't the mud that bothered him. Edmund didn't like to be dramatic but the truth could not be ignored – He was tense at the thought of prolonged proximity to Grace.

Perhaps it would be fine. Perhaps they would find some common ground to bond over and Edmund would finally be at peace with the decision to let her go back to Spare Oom?

Another voice leapfrogged over the rational quiet of it's predecessor. Darker and less humoured in nature.

Or perhaps he'd finally obtain the evidence that would allow him to lock her up for good.

Edmund swore upon seeing her. Her deep blue dress singular against the white marble floors and walls of the hallway. Grace was early.

Or was she? They'd never really specified a time. Edmund had told her to join him when she had finished her work in the kitchens. He'd never asked her exactly when that was.

At her side stood her guard, Casys, stoically straight and watchful of his charge as she leant against the pallid wall. Grace paid him no mind, satin eyes focused singularly on Edmund as he speed-walked down the hallway.

They weren't narrowed – as he'd expected - in fact they were rather large in comparison to their usual venomous slits. This was accentuated by a dark rim at her waterlines. Had she applied something? Edmund remembered a similar tint on Susan's eyes last night.

"Apologies for my tardiness," Edmund uttered when he reached them.

In his peripheral, Casys placed an arm across his chest in respect, "My King."

Grace arose from the wall, arms crossed inquisitively, "It's alright, I'd imagine there are many pulls on a King's time."

The soft fur of Shese breezed against his leg as she gave a low growl of disapproval, "You will provide a proper greeting to the King, Daughter of Eve."

Grace's eyes flickered downwards and widened as if she'd never seen such a creature before, "I-"

Edmund waved his guard off, "Leave it, Shese. Grace and I have an agreement."

The Daughter of Eve's smile was unequivocally grateful.

His words were not enough, however, as Casys scraped a hoof across the marble and gave a stern look to his charge.

Grace looked to him apprehensively, her eyes lowering to the warning laid on the marble.

As if she'd been drilled on court manners since birth, she dropped into a low curtsey at once. In his stunned state at the interaction, Edmund could only note that the motion was smoother than that first day on the terrace.

Edmund cleared his mind of those memories, tainted with first impressions he did not want to impose upon this day, "Rise."

As she rose, Grace looked up at him through wispy lashes, the grey almost undiscernible against the warm blue of her iris.

Edmund cleared his throat, slightly uncomfortable at the intensity of eye contact. He leaned forward to push the door open, motioning for Grace to take the lead.

She did not, "Does Casys need to stay?"

The Centaur beside her looked alarmed at the question, his stoic façade slipping as he looked between the woman and the King.

It made sense for him to stay – lest Grace attempt to make an escape through the hallway – but Edmund knew that would not play out well in Grace's favour. He remembered that she was especially cautious of her Guard's comfort, even at the expense of her own. The last thing Edmund wanted was for her to forego her time with him so that Casys might breathe fresh air.

He assessed her, like he had that day in the woods. Edmund knew that if it came down to it, he could overpower her. There was no need for a second or a third measure of safety.

But because he was himself, Edmund would proceed with two, "You may leave Us, Casys. I will have one of the guards on patrol fetch you when Grace is done."

The effect was instantaneous on the lines of the Centaur's face, "Thank you, My King."

Edmund addressed Shese, "If you wouldn't mind watching the door, friend."

Shese looked as if she might argue, her slitted yellow eyes trailing after the Centaur as he passed her, "If that is what you wish, sire."

Edmund nodded with appreciation. He knew that his Guard was well-opposed to the idea of leaving him with a stranger behind closed doors. He also knew, however, that it could not be helped. Grace had asked for equal footing in the hope that they might become friends… and Shese had the habit of reminding those who encountered Edmund of exactly who he was and what he was owed. A trait of many Westerners, he'd noticed.

There was a pride that filled him at the deference of his people but also a slight feeling of embarrassment and if Edmund was honest, he was sparing himself a morning of the latter.

His eyes returned to Grace, only to be startled by the look within them. It was not a look Edmund had seen before; they were a smelted blue, clear and warm as a summer breeze.

She turned away before he had the chance to comment, eyes cast curiously to the interior of his study.

Edmund moved to the side, hand open once again in the doorway. An invitation.

This time, Grace accepted it. Feet stumbling rather than stepping across the threshold as her head craned in different angles.

He followed behind, catching Shese's worried frown from the crack in the doorway.

I'll be fine, Edmund mouthed. To be on the safe side, however, he left the door ajar.

Grace spun to face him. Her face half ridden between humour and pointed accusation, "So this is where all the books are?"

Edmund's eyes flickered towards the western wall; it was fitted with wooden shelves that spanned the space in its entirety. The wall was practically packed to the brim with books – some sitting horizontally on top of others where there was no space for them.

"You were looking for books?" He asked, a singular brow raised in question.

Grace nodded as she returned to exploration, "Back in my first week I asked Casys where a library could be found."

Edmund followed her as she meandered towards the bookshelf, "What would you need a library for?"

"Something to do," Grace shrugged, "I'd already exhausted all of Casys's stories about Narnia by that point and he hated being pent-up. I thought that if I had a book to pass the time, the days wouldn't seem so much like purgatory."

There was a sombre inflection in her voice which made Edmund's stomach turn, "What did he tell you?"

Grace plucked a book from the shelf gently and opened it, taking extra care to support the fragile binding, "That paper is rare, books even more-so. I assumed there were very little in the Cair at all and let it be."

Edmund remembered what Susan had told him about Grace's first week in Narnia. After his interrogation at the tree line Grace had sequestered herself into solitary confinement. He'd imagined there was not much to entertain her during that time; the guest rooms were generally bare and awaiting to be filled with the possessions of those who held them… but how did one fill them, if one had nothing?

"I'm sorry," Edmund started, "If I'd known-"

The thick binding of 'Is Man A Myth' thumped softly as it closed.

"What? You'd have given me some?" Grace snickered lightly, "I doubt you would have trusted me with trade secrets such as these back then."

The book was held aloft in her hands as she attempted to place it back upon the shelf. The space it had once lived, however, seemed to have shrunk and Grace was finding it difficult.

"Allow me," Edmund stepped in, his experienced hands taking over the effort.

Grace stepped back, hands raised in surrender as she watched the short-lived struggle.

"All it takes is a little-" Edmund grunted, "Push!"

The book slotted into place easily, as if it had never left it to begin with. He looked back to Grace in triumph, "See?"

Grace was watching him, arms crossed with a bemused smile on her face.

"What is it?" Edmund asked, eyes flickering to the book he'd successfully recaptured betwixt its brethren. Then, his eyes adjusted from the strain.

He'd put it in upside down.

Edmund groaned and plucked the book from the shelf again, the two bordering immediately closing in on the space, "Never mind, you can read this while I organise your work."

He deposited the tome into her surprised hands and crossed the plush carpeted floor to his desk. It was only then that it dawned on Edmund that he had not wholly thought the matter out. He stared at the chaotically organised sheets on his desktop. What work would he give her?

Never mind that, what work could he give her?

Anything to do with the Giant's Rebellion was immediately struck from the list in his mind. He couldn't possibly trust her with any of the Calormene negotiations. Truly, the thought of Grace handling anything sensitive this early in their acquaintance made Edmund uneasy. In soul, he was tired of the mistrust and dishonesty between them but in mind he could not commit to disavowing their past so freely.

It was for that reason, he chose not to give her any true work at all.

Edmund reasoned that a test was the best way to determine Grace's trustworthiness.

He shuffled through the bottom most pages of his least used drawer until he found what he was looking for: a letter from the Duke of Galma regarding a trade deal. It was five pages long and at least a year old. There was nothing to be gained from it… other than the Duke's taste for large words and his appetite for Narnian recipes.

Hastily, Edmund dripped ink over the letter's date, thoroughly concealing the old ink in the new. As he lifted the sheet, he eyed the stain that remained on his desk with disgust and hastily rubbed at it with a cleaning cloth.

The sheet was held aloft and fanned in the air to dry it quickly. Edmund scanned the room to confirm he had not been spotted.

Grace sat peacefully on a seat by the fireplace, utterly absorbed by the pages of 'Is Man a Myth' in her lap. Perfect.

Edmund joined her, standing with the parchment stack held aloft, the heat from the fireplace drying it in minutes, "For you."

Grace glanced up at him and the sheets in his hands. The book was closed gently as they were taken from him. As her eyes ran curiously over the first page, Edmund explained.

"It is a letter from Lord Paranus, the Duke of Galma. He's made an offer of trade between Narnia and Galma. We are to accept the terms with one slight amendment; Narnia wants twice the reams of parchment."

Her hands ran over the smooth texture of the letter as she read it. Fingers grazing worryingly close to the corner Edmund had just concealed.

In an effort to distract, Edmund leaned towards her and asked, "Do you think you can handle it?"

The fingers retracted and Grace's satin eyes returned to his with a boisterous sheen, "Absolutely."