XXVIII
GRACE
Lapse – Black Math
Grace nervously fiddled with her sleeve as she followed Margrove down the hallways of Cair Paravel. The mid-afternoon sun had long steeped the air in comfortable warmth, every now and then giving way to the crisp breeze drafting through the windows.
"Have you any idea why we were summoned?" She asked, feet nearly stumbling over themselves to keep up with the Faun's stride.
Margrove spared her a brief look over his shoulder, "She's a Queen, I couldn't imagine what her intentions are."
Grace latched on to his arm in an attempt to slow him, "Did the missive not say anything?"
"Only to meet her on the terrace for tea," The Faun gruffed as he hoisted himself over a step. His right leg was still bandaged and he relied heavily on his crutch for movement, yet somehow this did not hinder his speed as he hobbled haphazardly in front of her.
Grace could not help but watch in amazement. She had known that Faun's had an advantage in movement due to the shape of their legs – she'd even seen it in motion during the Long Trot at Queen Susan's birthday ball. However, seeing the effect of it still present whilst the being was injured was incomprehensible.
No further words were spoken as they were escorted to the terrace and – apart from the grunts of the injured faun and Grace's own heavy breaths – the air grew silent.
The bright sunlight of the terrace was welcomed. It's warmth soft against their sweaty faces as it dried them.
Grace breathed deeply, the scent of jasmine and honeysuckle soothing her lungs as they were lead across the stone floor.
The scene was similar to that of a few weeks ago, in a time darkened with her depression. It seemed tea was a common occurrence for Queen Susan, and that she liked it's setting to be just so.
Grace did not blame the Elder Queen, if she had to endure endless meetings she would also do it on her own terms.
Queen Susan sat serenely on a chaise, her long dark her grazing softly against her straight and regal back. In the sunlight Grace realised it was the same as King Edmund's – almost black with the undertone of a rich brown which was pronounced in sunlight. It was uncertain whether this similarity gave her comfort or not, given her uneasy acquaintance with said king.
She was accompanied by two dryads who stood stoically behind her. Their vines hung in woven braids that rustled with the ocean breeze. They stood, eyes closed with patience but Grace knew they were listening intently for their mistresses commands.
Beside her, Margrove bowed lowly. Grace matched her friend, though, her curtsy was lower due to her lack of injury.
The Queen smiled and motioned for them to sit with a gentle wave of her hand, "Thank you both for coming."
Grace smiled politely as she sat, silently watching Margrove to ensure he didn't need her help.
"We are honoured by your invitation, your Majesty," He responded with only a slight wobble as he landed in the cushioned chair.
Grace nodded in agreeance, her admiring gaze returning to the dark-haired Queen.
Queen Susan's eyes crinkled with her close-lipped smile. A hand was waved to the dryads-in- waiting who immediately began pouring teas and setting food upon their plates.
Grace eyed the smaller Dryad with dismay as her moss-covered fingers placed a cucumber sandwich upon her plate. Grace picked it up delicately, trying to keep her distaste showing as she eyed the offending fruit.
Margrove dug in immediately. He was often hungry after rehearsals as he did not allow himself to eat until they were complete. In fact, Grace thought the Faun was often hungry in general. Any time they had shared a meal together whilst discussing lyrics or the melody of an overture, the Faun's face was always stuffed with food.
She was grateful that Margrove had decided to show a modicum of decorum as he delicately lifted a sandwich from his plate and took a normal sized bite. Grace followed his movement – she herself was starving, having not eaten anything since leaving the Kitchens that morning.
Queen Susan waited patiently while they took their first bites and only began to speak once they had swallowed, "I was hoping to commence the planning for the Christmas Ball. I understand the Orchestra has already begun work."
Margrove nodded enthusiastically through a mouthful of another sandwich.
"We've put aside a few songs for the performance," Grace explained, "If there are any your Majesties are wishing to hear-"
Queen Susan's bright eyes sparkled with interest, "Are there any more of your songs from Spare Oom?"
Grace froze, "I-"
"I've got her working on it," Margrove assured. He caught Grace's glance from the corner of her eye and added, "There are two currently in the works which Grace deems appropriate for Christmas time."
"They aren't carols or anything," Grace cut in nervously, "But they do possess a type of Christmas magic about them. As requested by Margrove."
Queen Susan nodded, the slow electricity of her excitement radiating from her cheekbones to her bright eyes, "Excellent! The court has been abuzz with your contribution to the last ball. There is hope for more."
"Is there anything in particular the court is wishing to see?" Margrove asked.
"Perhaps some more dancing music? The Long Trot was a success by all accounts," The Queen noted before adding with a grimace, "Apart from your injury."
Margrove grinned, "Wonderful, I'm sure Grace and I can replicate a few dancing songs from Spare Oom in time."
Grace blanched a little at the idea. She eyed her friends leg warily. It had been two days since Queen Susan's ball and the leg was healing as well as could be expected. At least, that was what Lucy told her whenever she'd asked. The break was clean and easy to correct, the only tell lying in the white bandages cast around the wound alongside the stiff discarded branch of a tree.
"Perhaps we should postpone pairing the songs with dances for now," Grace suggested, "The music I have in mind is far better suited to a performance than a dance."
There was a look in Queen Susan's eye that told Grace she wanted to argue. It was gone in an instant, replaced by a smooth calm. The Queen gave a small nod, her mouth crinkling in disappointment as she took a sip of her tea, "If you wish it."
"I could be amenable to that request," Margrove agreed, "Although I do wish to provide at least one non-verbal song for the Christmas Gallop."
This seemed to lighten the Queen's spirit, "That would be well received. The old tune has needed a replacement for years in my opinion."
Grace was still unsure whether adding more dancing music was a good idea. In truth, she partially blamed herself for Margrove's injury. If she hadn't introduced the music that inspired him to reintroduce the Long Trot, he might have avoided a great deal of pain.
Upon looking at Grace and her unsure features Queen Susan added soothingly, "The Christmas Gallop is not too difficult. It is unlikely that anyone would take injury during it."
Grace was minimally comforted by this, her breath releasing to soothe the nerves in her chest. The combination of the Queen's sure words and eagerness to see more of her work made her agree, "There is a symphony I've had in mind."
The answering grin was dazzling and Margrove clapped her soundly on the back.
"That's the spirit!" Margrove grinned as he plucked yet another sandwich from his plate. Grace followed his lead. She'd thought she would have made a dent in the pile on her plate by now but no matter how many triangles she took, the stack did not shrink.
At her assent, Margrove pulled a folded sheet of paper from who-knows-where and handed it to the Queen. Grace – upon recognising the words upon it – couldn't help but look at her friend in slight betrayal.
The sheet held a list of song names she assumed were being proposed for the event. Some Narnian songs, some of her own – most of the list containing songs she had not yet shared with The Faun.
Margrove stared back at her evenly, daring her to chastise him.
Grace's eyes narrowed, she would need to find somewhere more private to hide her work if he kept snooping through it. Perhaps the locked drawer in her bedside table would suit. Surely, the Faun would not stoop as low as to snoop there.
Queen Susan took the sheet gratefully. As her eyes swept over the page she appeared pleased at the number of unrecognisable songs on the list, "This will do well, I think. We have much to work through before the planning can truly commence."
"I'm afraid the list is incomplete, your Majesty," Grace interjected with an annoyed look at her friend, "Only the third and ninth are available immediately of the new music. The rest are still in the beginning stages and are likely not to be ready in time."
"Oh?" The Queen's perfectly shaped brows raised in apprehension, "Is there no chance that a few more of these could be worked on in time?"
Grace opened her mouth to speak, however, Margrove overtook her, "We will do our best, your Majesty. As Grace says, however, the music is only in the very early stages."
Queen Susan nodded softly in understanding, "I see. Then I hope to set up a meeting with you in a weeks' time for review? We may then go over the finalised set list."
"But of course," Margrove agreed readily, "We should have one or more on our repertoire by that point. Shouldn't we, Grace?"
Grace attempted to keep her daggers at a minimum as she agreed.
The Queen's hands joined loudly in excitement, startling the two from their shared glare, "Excellent!"
The Faun grinned, delighted to have pleased his queen.
In the empty expanse of the archway behind them, the sound of hoof-steps echoed.
There, another faun stood, cheeks red and worn out as he leaned against the crafted stonework, "Your Majesty," He heaved, "I have a message."
Queen Susan sat forward with generous interest and gestured for the Faun to approach.
He did, hooves scraping lazily against marble as he knelt before the Queen. Grace didn't hear what was said, for the Faun spoke in soft whispers but by the concerned look on Queen Susan's face, she knew it was not pleasant news.
The Queen dismissed him with a gentle smile before turning her crinkled eyes to Margrove, "If this is all the Orchestra has planned then you may leave Us, friend. My Royal Siblings and I thank you for your service."
Margrove nodded in respect before unsteadily lifting himself from the chaise, the slight groan he gave imperceptible to all except Grace who was too angry at him to offer help in that moment. He gladly accepted a plate of sandwiches from the taller of the two Dryads, making sure to stuff another triangle in his mouth as he hobbled away.
Queen Susan sighed and swept her hands across her skirt as she stood, only allowing the dryads in waiting to fuss over her a moment before waiving them off.
In between the discontented grumblings in her mind Grace realised that she had not yet been dismissed. She turned to the Elder Queen who was staring at her expectantly, "Did you need me for something, your Majesty?"
Queen Susan gave her a small kind smile and held out her hand, "Walk with me, Grace."
There was something about Queen Susan that put Grace at ease. A calmness that couldn't be described. Grace had no idea where it came from, it seemed the Queen was always going this way and that; busy with balls, the maintenance of the Cair and who knows what else. The peaceful air followed her, practically exuding from her being.
They walked arm in arm down unfamiliar hallways in warm familiar light. It was late in the afternoon and soon the sun would set.
Usually at this time, Grace and Margrove would retire from the music room to one of their own and begin working on reconstructing songs from Earth. The Faun had taken it upon himself to bring all of her memories to life in some form or another and sometimes he made the songs better.
She couldn't imagine how he did it; perhaps there was some charm in the instruments from this era that added a little something extra? Or perhaps her friend was simply good at what he did.
Grace was grateful that she would evade his company today. She worried what pointed accusations would leave her lips when she saw him next. The music he'd stolen was barely written and she'd still not gone over them properly. It was a breach of privacy that left her feeling uncomfortable and she would not let it slide.
When the corridors became familiar again, Grace could finally place their location in her mind. She'd remembered passing through them a few weeks ago when Casys had taken her to see Hellabora. Grace sighed internally at the thought of the Eastern Gardens, she would have to visit them again soon, if only to stare at the beautiful flowers for a few minutes.
Queen Susan broke the comfortable silence as the large wooden doors of the front entrance came into view, "I hope I am not intruding on your thoughts... I was hoping to ask you a question?"
Grace nodded her assent, looking patiently to the Queen's curious eyes.
"You fall between Lucy and Edmund in age, do you not?" She asked.
Grace thought for a moment, she didn't believe either of them had ever revealed their age to her. In terms of maturity she could see herself placed between them, however, if life had taught her anything, it was that maturity did not determine age.
"I do not know," She admitted, "I am twenty-two, if that helps?"
"It does, indeed." The Queen nodded, "I hope that was not too personal to ask. I myself do not like to be asked my age."
Grace smiled, "It doesn't worry me. Age is only proof of time passing by. It has no effect on who I am or who I'll be, why should I be identified by it?"
"Surprisingly well put," Queen Susan acknowledged, "A sentiment I wish I shared; My own age is becoming increasingly worrying to bear."
Grace's brow furrowed, "Why is that?"
The Queen regarded her with an obvious expression, "Because I am not yet married."
It was as if something yanked to attention in Grace's mind, the knowledge which had laid dormant in her mind since stepping foot on Narnian shores.
Of course, in times such as these it was the expectation that women married young in order to increase their chances of children. Preferably male children, she corrected with mental distate.
"At your age I had been looking for a suitable companion for five years," The Queen continued, "I have had difficulty in finding one to my tastes where I am also of theirs."
Grace nodded slowly with understanding. Although she couldn't imagine why anyone would not think the radiant dark-haired queen was not to their tastes.
"It is only…" Her melodic voice trailed off like mist behind her thoughtful eyes. It was as if the Queen was thinking of how to phrase her next words carefully.
"I have noticed that you have never mentioned a spouse in your requests to return home. I only wonder whether your situation is similar to mine," Queen Susan edged, "If your quest for love has also been difficult?"
The question was odd in her mind, for Grace had never considered it. In truth, relationships were not something she thought of often, but she could not deny the pang of envy she felt at the sight of other happy couples.
"I do not think I have embarked on such a quest yet," Grace admitted, "My life has been preoccupied by other matters."
The Queen frowned in disappointment, "I see."
Grace mirrored the expression, needless guilt kicking her voice forwards, "I am sorry."
"Don't be," Queen Susan smiled with kindness, "In truth, you are like Lucy in this regard and I am glad for it. The pain is one I would not wish on any other."
They halted at the edge of the corridor, just before two great and intricately carved doors. Grace stared up in wonder as a streak of yellow sunlight slipped through the crack between them. Two attendants had come forth, silently prying the entryway open with their fingers.
"It not as if I am lonely," The Queen's gentle voice washed against the creak of the doors, "I love my siblings deeply. They are the light of my world but-"
Grace understood, "You wish for a family of your own."
Queen Susan looked to her with imploring eyes, "Is that so bad?"
Grace shook her head, her eyes returning to the fresh and open air, "I don't think so. You have the right to your wants as much as anyone else does."
In companionship, the Queen took Grace's arm. The air around them settling in that peaceful strain she always carried with her. As she tugged Grace forwards towards the front steps of the Cair she omitted a soft whisper, "Thank you."
The light of the late afternoon had begun to dim, settling everything in a shadowed golden glow. The stairs lay empty, the only souls standing at their feet upon the multicoloured gravel. The silhouettes of Lucy and the High King were prominent among them, along with a horse and its attendant who held firmly to the reins.
The siblings were whispering to each other furiously, their clasped hands between them acting as a tether to their conversation. Lucy looked up at her brother with determined eyes, his own towering above her by more than a head of distance.
As they descended the steps the sound of whispers became more prominent but remained undecipherable. The Queen lead them both, feet moving in equal tempered rhythm on the flat expanse of each step. She did not seem troubled by the exchange happening before them. In fact, Grace thought she might have expected it.
There was a piece missing from the situation, one that Grace knew sat on the tip of her tongue. Why was she here? If it was to temper an argument between the two, Grace did not think she would provide much assistance.
The sound of footsteps on gravel grew increasingly louder as more joined the party. Beings of all kinds lined up in military lines. There were ten in all; fauns, centaurs, dryads and talking beasts. All wrapped in polished silver metal. Armor, Grace noted.
Her eyes darted to the tall brown steed behind Lucy, it's saddle packed heavily with travel bags and equipment. They returned to the two siblings who were still exchanging whispers at the foot of the Cair. The whispers had changed now, softened to a caring murmur as the High King pulled Lucy into his arms.
The pieces shifted in her mind, turning clockwise and anticlockwise to fit snugly amongst each other and suddenly, Grace remembered.
Lucy was going North.
From over the shoulder of her older brother, Lucy's watery eyes caught on the pair. Their feet had narrowly passed the last step before Grace felt a force latch on to her body.
"I'm sorry to leave you like this," Lucy whispered into Grace's burning hair, "I know our plans for your return home are not yet complete."
Grace's arms wrapped warmly around her friend, "I'm not worried about that. I'm worried about you."
The Valiant Queen released her, dropping atop the gravel with a short huff. Her lips pursed in mock distaste, "Don't you start. I've had enough worry for one day."
Grace tried to smile obligingly, "I won't. Just know that I will be thinking about you while you're off adventuring."
Lucy's head swivelled to the horse and company beside it, "This will be you, soon enough."
Her gaze returned to Grace, the spark of determination clear in her eyes, "When that time comes, I will wave you off with the same amount of enthusiasm you are about to show me."
Grace felt her cheeks stretch, a smile against her will, "What would you request? A big banner in the sky? 'Goodbye Lucy' written into the clouds?"
Her friend's eyes widened with wonder, "Can you actually do that?"
"Not in this world," Grace shook her head, "But at home, yes."
Lucy nodded in understanding, "Well, forgoing the artful clouds, I will take a gesture of good will instead."
Grace took the Valiant Queens hand and gripped it tightly as she whispered, "Good luck and be safe."
It had the desired effect, Lucy beamed. Her gratitude displayed when she vaulted into another embrace, "I will be back in two weeks. Wait for me, friend. We still have much to do together."
As her sight blurred, Grace gripped at Lucy's small shoulders and offered a silent prayer to whoever was listening that her friend would return safe.
Lucy released her, eyes glistening with unshed tears and turned to her elder sister. Grace did not watch as she leapt into another embrace. Her stomach and eyes burning already from seeing one and feeling another.
A rough cough startled her thoughts and as Grace hastily wiped at her blurry eyes, they cleared to the sight of the High King.
Grace's attempts to clear her cheeks from wetness became rough, "I'm sorry. She's your sister, you have more right to tears than I do."
King Peter looked at her kindly, his own lashes sparkling from the dim sunlight, "She is your friend. You have right to your own tears."
A traitorous sniffle escaped Grace's nostrils which she reflexively covered with her hand, her cheeks colouring in embarrassment at the omission.
The High King did not laugh as she half expected him to, however, he simply stared unseeingly in the direction of his younger sisters. His face was still and wrinkled with worry, the expression strongest in his clear blue eyes.
A pair of shoes began to descend the steps, the scuffed sound holding no rhythm. The figure atop them rushed downwards in fracturing speed. Queen Susan and Lucy separated tearfully, the youngers head snapping towards the noisy appearance of King Edmund.
"Sorry I'm late. I didn't get your message," He huffed as his feet hit the stone gravel.
Lucy did not wait, flinging herself into his arms the moment he landed. King Edmund caught her easily, as if he'd been expecting the attack.
Beside her, King Peter broke their mutual silence, "I am sorry we have not had a chance to speak since the ball. I've been meaning to ask you how your plans are faring."
Grace breathed deeply, eyes inexplicably drawn to the mess of dark hair that overtook Lucy's golden hue. It's texture was more unruly than hers as it weaved atop his head like vines.
"I have no plans," Grace breathed, "Any that I did you counselled me against."
"Then I am glad you have heeded my warnings," The High King said approvingly, "I'd imagine it's only helped your situation."
"It has, thank you," Grace begrudgingly admitted, "We have reached a sort of truce."
King Peter hummed, "I heard. Working together. Tell me, how do you find the intimacy of Narnia's affairs?"
Grace bristled, unsure how to reply without framing herself as a spy, "They are intellectually stimulating."
"A good response," The High King praised, "Is that the wording you also use with my Royal Brother?"
Grace winced, "I try to be as articulate as I can."
Lucy dropped gracefully from her brothers embrace, the two exchanging indecipherable whispers. From the set of his brow, the Just King seemed to be giving orders and Lucy was having none of it.
Grace watched as his expression grew frustrated. Brows tipping further inwards to form a single line of brotherly concern. She would have laughed, if those dark gritted eyes hadn't met her own in barely concealed annoyance. Her mind stuttered, expression freezing in her half-humoured smile.
The gaze held for barely ten seconds before Lucy regained his attention again, her body language venting a frustration of their own.
Beside her, King Peter added, "Be sure to tread carefully with your words. Edmund hates artifice almost as much as he hates Winter."
Grace nodded. She knew it, between the words of the King and the overbearing heat from his room that much was clear. Her eyes reglued to the agile form of Queen Lucy as she mounted the horses saddle.
A pit of fear swelled in her stomach at the sight. Apart from the line of military equipped men, there was no one else to protect her. Whilst she had no doubt that Lucy was fearless and perfectly able to handle anything thrown at her, there was a niggling feeling that would not leave her alone.
Lucy waved, her smile of sorrowed cheer clear from an even distance. They all waved her off, hands raised in anxious unison as she urged the horse forwards.
No one moved for a long time, not until the shadowed silhouette of the party passed through the trees and beyond their view. The first to take their leave were King Edmund and Queen Susan, their looks towards the shadowed forest refusing to cease as they climbed arm in arm up the stone steps of the Cair.
King Peter remained steadfastly at her side, his expression stoic as he continued to stare into the woods Lucy had disappeared into.
"Do you think she will be ok?" Grace asked, her throat scratching against the broken silence.
The High King took a deep and steadying breath, "I have to. There is no other option."
Grace turned to him, eyes wide and entreating.
"Do not trouble yourself over what is still yet to be determined," King Peter comforted softly as his gaze met her own. There was a strong resolve in those sky blue irises, one Grace wished she could mirror, "We must hold faith in those who have the power of the outcome in their hands."