XXXIV

EDMUND

Touch the Sky – Julie Fowlis

"Stop fretting," Edmund chastised as he saw Grace reseat herself on the saddle for the umpteenth time, "It's better to learn sooner rather than later."

"I'm not fretting," Grace scowled as she readjusted her hands on the reins yet again, "And I don't see why I have to learn this right now. I've been on horseback barely a day."

"If you don't learn now, you'll keep putting it off," Edmund warned.

Grace gave him a worried look, "I'm only asking if it's a bit soon."

Beneath him, Phillip chimed in, "His Majesty learned the very same day he first mounted a horse."

Edmund grimaced at the memory. Fresh off the back of his rescue, he had not found a moments peace between horseback lessons, sword mastery and general training. At the time, Edmund remembered feeling relief at simply being alive, that paired with the sheer force of his will to do better provided just enough to fuel him forwards.

His first riding lesson had been the greatest example of this, in an endeavour to show his worthiness Edmund had thrown himself onto the horses back – literally.

Phillip had reacted as expected, taking the energy of his King's perseverance and pushing it to its absolute limits. The first time Edmund experienced cantering was only the beginning of the adventure.

"I think you could do it," Edmund encouraged, knowing from his own experience that it was possible and in fact, wise to face your fears head on.

Edmund had thought she would have jumped at the chance of something like this and the misunderstanding of her character troubled him some. It seemed at the very moment he thought he understood, Grace drew out another facet of her being to throw her whole image into confusion again.

The Daughter of Eve in question still remained unconvinced, eyes dodging between Edmund and Phillip as the horse and rider attempted to convince her. It seemed that reason would not override fear in this case.

There was something that Edmund had not tried. Usually he only reserved it for dire situations lest he fall into the traps of his predecessors. Manipulation was not a tactic which Edmund used lightly, however, with Grace he wondered whether it might work.

"Well if you don't believe you can handle it…" He trailed off, watching the Daughter of Eve mindfully in his peripherals for any change in her expression.

He was gratified with a furrowed brow and the curvature of her lips straightening into a firm line.

"I never said that," Grace snapped.

Edmund schooled his expression for fear she'd catch on, simply sitting straighter on the smooth line of Phillip's back, "You said so yourself, it's too soon to start cantering. We can practice a little trotting today and then return to my study for work."

Her stony blue eyes glared at him, their stubborn glint as clear as daylight, "Now, wait a minute."

Edmund urged Phillip forward with a light pat on his chestnut coated shoulder, "Shall we begin? The sooner we finish the sooner we can get to work."

"Stop," Grace called from behind him. Her voice teetering on the edge of haste, "Would you just wait a minute?

Phillip paused, nickering with a soft laugh as he turned them both to watch Grace cross the distance they'd marched.

"Teach me to canter," She resolved, pulling Maiden to a stop just before the Mare met Phillip's behind.

Edmund pinched his brows together in mock concern, "You said you weren't ready."

Her short and fettered nods did little to convince him otherwise, "I am now."

"You've barely begun to trot," Edmund persisted, his concerned tone even convincing himself, "You don't have the right experience."

"Don't need it," Grace returned, the determined light of blue fire in her eyes burning away the fear, "As Phillip said, you did it on day one. So why can't I?"

Edmund pretended at undecidedness, a practiced movement for when he wished to keep his enemies on the rope. He looked back to the stables, then to the Cair, then back to Grace, "Only if you're sure?"

Her nod only strengthened the triumphant air in his lungs, Edmund tried to pass it's release off as a bolstering of courage.

"Alright, first we'll practice what you have already learned," Edmund leaned backwards to wrap his fingers around the reins of Maiden. The horse was tugged forward, now carrying a slightly less wary Daughter of Eve upon it as it reached the invisible starting line in Edmund's head.

"See that tree over there?"

Grace looked away from him, her eyes instead focusing on the red flowered tree he pointed to at the edge of the forest line, "Yes."

"Go there and back," He returned the reins to her awaiting pale palms, "You do remember how to steer?"

The look of her indignation would be laughable if Edmund had not been asking a legitimate question.

"Yes," Grace replied pointedly.

"Off you go then."

She didn't need to be told twice. At his assent, Grace urged Maiden forward. They started slow, the walk allowing her to settle into a comfortable rhythm atop the soft leather of her saddle.

"Good work on convincing her," Phillip murmured when the Daughter of Eve was far enough away, "If she hadn't, I might have suggested nipping at Maiden's heels to give her a push."

Edmund rolled his eyes at the thought, "You and I both know that would be a terrible idea. It would traumatise them both and set us back days."

The Talking Horse made a noise of barely concealed suspicion, "You say 'set us back' as if there is a time limit to these lessons."

"Is there something wrong with wanting her to learn?" Edmund defended.

"No, but there is something concerning about pushing her before she is ready," Phillip edged, "Why the rush?"

Edmund sighed, mindful of Grace as she egged Maiden into a trot, "She expressed a need for an outlet. I thought perhaps that she could join us on our morning rides?"

If Phillip could shrug without throwing his King off balance, Edmund was sure he would, "It does not worry me if she does. Though I do consider whether it might concern you."

"It was my idea."

"We so often speak of matters outside the scope of Grace's-"

At the mention of her name, Edmund returned his eyes to the fast moving form atop the sandy horse. She was too rigid in her seat and it was causing Maiden discomfort.

"Loosen your hips!" Edmund called across the grassy hillside, relieved when his words took root immediately.

Phillip looked back at his charge with narrowed eyes.

"Sorry," Edmund repented, "You were saying?"

The Talking Beast snorted aggressively, "Grace is not a party to the matters of which we discuss and from my understanding, you wished to keep it that way, your Majesty."

Edmund shrugged, "Things change."

"You were adamant two days ago that they wouldn't."

A wry smile wrapped Edmund's lips, "I was convinced to the contrary back then."

Grace had reached the tree now, the change in her grip near imperceptible in their distance, however it did the trick as Maiden looped the red flowered tree on the hillside.

Edmund shouted praise towards the rider, the wry smile stretching to a broad grin at her achievement.

"Should I be concerned?" Phillip asked lowly, clearly fearful of offending his King.

"I'm not bewitched," Edmund murmured, unwilling to speak the words any louder lest he manifest them into existence.

The Talking Beast snorted, "Could have fooled me."

This time, the pat of Edmund's hand on the chestnut coat was a little harder than necessary, "I merely saw reason to not hold Grace in the highest suspicion."

"You had good reason to hold her in such regard to begin with," Phillip returned, "Don't forget."

Edmund's heart grew gentle. Of all the beings in his life – of whom he was not related to – Phillip had been his greatest supporter. In all aspects except physical, he and the horse were of one mind. Edmund knew it went further than the bond of King and subject or horse and rider. It was the bond of a true friendship.

Their agreement had allowed the Talking Horse intimate access into Edmund's mind. Often full of rational thought and a questioning line of thinking. Lately, however, his mind had been the scene of a battleground, only recently emptied with the stalemate of sandy shores and Grace's unnervingly calming voice.

Whether Phillip agreed for Edmund's benefit or because he truly was on side, the King did not know. Either way, the two always ended up seeing eye to eye. Edmund chalked it up to the unlimited nature of their acquaintance and the talent he held in talking people to his view.

"I fear I may have been harsher with my words than necessary," Edmund reconciled, "My actions even more so."

Phillip tilted his head to assess his rider. When it became clear that Edmund was sincere, he returned it just as quickly, "Your trust is my trust, sire. I will follow your lead."

Edmund felt his lungs deplete unexpectedly, "Thank you."

There was no time for anything else to be said, for Grace came towards them at speed.

She delicately pulled Maiden to a halt, giving the duo a once over as she adjusted her seating again.

"Is there something wrong with the saddle?" Edmund asked.

"No," Grace replied, it was quick, defensive and from the way she cringed, Edmund could tell that she didn't even believe it herself.

His eyes narrowed in a knowing manner, "You've adjusted yourself once every ten minutes at least."

"It's nothing," Grace replied, "I'm still a little sore from yesterday is all."

This time Edmunds concern was genuine, "If you need to stop-"

"No," Grace refused adamantly, "I'll be fine."

Beneath him, Phillip tilted his muzzle back to murmur, "She's nearly as bad as you were."

Edmund fought back a cringe, the clear memories of stubbornness and a bruised backside haunting him, "There is no shame in pausing progress. I wouldn't wish you hurt for the sake of it."

Not to mention Lucy would throttle him if she came back to find her friend bruised back and blue.

Grace avoided his gaze, "I said I'll be fine."

The tone of her voice stirred something that made Edmund sit straighter and assess its cause.

Her posture was straight, shifting as necessary to the movement of the dumb beast below her. She seemed comfortable atop the saddle, emotionally that is, physically she was nursing her bruises and shifting accordingly. Her warm eyes were set in a spot of distance, Edmund followed the gaze to the tree-line but saw nothing that would be so captivating.

There was a simple reason to her behaviour, he was sure of it. It danced on the tip of his tongue with maddeningly light footsteps and refused to travel further in. Just as all things to do with Grace did.

As Grace unknowingly awaited his verdict, she fiddled impatiently with Maiden's leather reins. Repeatedly she folded and unfolded, wrapped and unwrapped. The motions repeating with no pattern or reason to them.

"What is it?" Edmund asked, soft frustration leaking into his words.

"I'm not ready to go back yet," Grace admitted, "I like it out here."

The comment earned her an arched brow, "I'm glad, but I don't see why that makes you so eager to learn cantering today?"

"You said if I didn't learn today that we'd go back to the Cair," Grace accused.

Edmund cringed internally; Grace taking his challenge as an ultimatum was not the result he'd hoped to achieve.

"I didn't think you'd take it literally," he voiced.

"Well I did," Grace huffed, pausing to settle Maiden as the horse reacted to the shift in her mood, "I do."

Ploys and schemes were completely out of the question where Grace was concerned then. Noted.

"We'll keep walking then," Edmund proposed, "There's a trail Phillip and I usually take in the mornings."

"If we're lucky we might get a glimpse of some wild animals," Phillip added.

Grace's brows rose, "Isn't the one you see in the mirror enough for you?"

Phillip snorted, "I am a talking beast, wild animals are dumb. I would thank you to know the difference."

The attempt Grace made to conceal her humorous smile was poor at best, "Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you."

The Talking Beast grumbled an undecipherable reply before yanking both he and Edmund in the direction of the Eastern Woods.

Behind them, Grace laughed softly and urged Maiden onwards.

The path was easily found; whilst there were no signs as to its location, the dirt worn divots in the ground gave it away from a fair distance. Phillip took the lead, being the only sentient horse of the two.

Edmund tried not to look back to make sure that Grace had not made a run for it. His only reward was the tell-tale noise of Maidens tread on the dirt. She remained two to three paces behind Phillip, her rhythym vastly different to the purposeful steps that the Talking Horse made in stride.

A still silence settled over them all, only broken by the whisper of the trees and the songs of birds, high pitched and overlapping in constant changing harmony.

Another voice joined them, though it was no bird song that passed from their lips. The hum of Grace's voice could be called anything but dull. It was oddly out of place in the serene surroundings of the Eastern Woods.

There was an eerie familiarity in the melody and Edmund got the sense that he'd heard the song somewhere before, though, he couldn't place when or how.

"What is that?" He asked, the words unintentionally to the point and brash. As almost all his words when it came to Grace were.

"Hm?" Grace voiced behind him.

"The song you're humming," Edmund clarified.

Grace didn't respond at first, her the vibrations of her throat catching on her closed lips as she ran through the song once more. When she finished, her voice held more confidence, "Humpty Dumpty."

Edmund's sight narrowed under the deepening set of his brow, "Humpty who?"

Her responding giggle was both charming and irksome, "Humpty Dumpty. It's a children's song."

To his disappointment, the name didn't ring any bells. There was no forthcoming of memories in Spare Oom, like Susan said she sometimes came across. Only the whisper of the melody remained, present and beckoning to an emptiness of recollection.

"I see," Edmund acknowledged outwardly. Inwardly, his curiosity clawed at the empty space, "Are there many songs in Spare Oom?"

"As many as there are here in Narnia, I'm sure," Grace replied.

Narnia held a great many songs – more than could have been perceived during the reign of Jadis. The culture of music running so deeply that much was uncovered after her defeat. Both from the souls who had been turned to stone and deep in the depths of many a Narnian home.

At this point the pathway grew wide enough to comfortably walk two, and in an effort to be polite, Edmund urged Phillip aside to allow Maiden into the spare space. He looked back, just in time to catch Grace's grateful look with his own.

"How many have you managed to transcribe?" Edmund asked as she and her horse joined their side.

"A fair few," Grace allowed, her face scrunching in thought, "That's what I spend most of my time doing nowadays. As soon as I leave your office of writing I am swept into a different kind for the Orchestra."

Edmund gave a wry smile, "Sounds like you write as much in a day as I do."

As if remembering that the appendages were there, Grace flexed and unflexed her hands around the leather reins, "Your hands must be just as sore then."

Edmund looked at his own, they were comfortably laid palm down against Phillip's chestnut coat. When he'd first started taking on duties involving paperwork and the like, his hands had hurt for days. The strain of the repetitive movement for hours on end proving tiresome. Edmund refused to stop, however, determined in his quest to prove himself to his people by flying high above their expectations.

On days were the pain became too much, he often sent to the kitchens for a cut of meat or something colder to ease the pain. It was through time and endless effort that he slowly found release from the pain altogether.

"You get used to it," Edmund murmured, the imprint of his pale freckled hands embedded in his sight.

Grace made a noise. It lied somewhere between understanding and disgruntlement, however Edmund couldn't pinpoint exactly where.

He smiled to himself, her reaction was expectedly unexpected. It was something he was growing used to.

At least in the shared experience of hand pain and writing they could have some common ground to speak of. Although, Edmund could remember what precious little he knew about composing music and doubted that discussions on that topic could lead anywhere.

There was something about her circumstances that he did find quite odd, "You don't dance?"

Grace looked to him with wide blue eyes, taken aback by the sudden question.

"You mentioned spending the whole of your time with the Orchestra reconstructing the music of Spare Oom… do you not also dance?" Edmund clarified.

A gentle breeze rustled the branches at the tops of the tree's, the whispering between the leaves prevalent amongst the silence of her thoughts.

"I haven't needed to lately," Grace replied. There was a comprehension in her eyes that she did not own before, it was as if she had not realised it until the very moment he asked.

"Why not?" Edmund pressed.

The Daughter of Eve shrugged, "The preparations for the Christmas Ball have taken up most of our time. Music from Earth – pardon me, Spare Oom – has been requested and so I've focused on that."

"But won't you need to perform at the Christmas Ball?"

It was another statement that drew her to pause, "Yes, I suppose I will. Though, it would be more important to have the music finished before I tried dancing to it. Don't you think?"

At this, Edmund felt a little sheepish, "There are other songs than that of Spare Oom."

Grace shook her head, "I've only learned one dance and I wouldn't touch another Long Trot with a ten-foot-pole."

"Why not?"

Was he the reason? As Edmund glanced sideways at her discomforted face, he began to wonder at the weight of such a thought. Grace's lips had twisted around the name of the dance as if it was taboo in her unconscious mind.

She gave him a meaningful look, her greying eyes flickering pointedly towards his leg and back again.

Oh, Margrove.

Of course she would hold herself accountable. Susan had told him that Grace had presented the song that had inspired the Faun to take on the Long Trot.

Edmund supposed that it was unsurprising that she would come to such a far-fetched conclusion. Her compassion was as commendable as it was overbearing.

Truth be told, Margrove had been pushing for the Long Trot for years. Susan always came up with an excuse; the music is too difficult, the dancers will be too tired. Edmund had been surprised when she'd allowed it this time, until it was revealed that the twist that his sister so loved to add was the new music.

He remembered it now, the curiosity laid in her warm blue eyes as she described it to them all over breakfast, the excitement she so rarely displayed nearly bubbling to the brim of her sensibilities at the prospect.

"You shouldn't blame yourself," Edmund resolved, also refusing to speak plainly of the subject in case it would set Grace off.

The reality was that no one was to blame for the matter. From what Edmund had seen of Grace's spirit, however, he was certain she wouldn't accept his words at face value. Grace was not the kind to accept resolution, she needed to be convinced.

"I do blame myself," Grace returned stubbornly, "There is no use fighting me on it."

Edmund hid his pleased smile. For once, he'd made an accurate prediction.

"I wasn't planning to attempt such a feat, I assure you. However, I don't think it right to sequester yourself from dancing from one fall. A fall which was not even your own, might I add."

"A fall which cost a friend their leg," Grace returned evenly.

Edmund rolled his eyes. It was always the dramatics with this one, "He will recover. Margrove knew the risks when taking up the dance, as did you."

The sigh from her lips broke haggardly against the lilting chirps of the sparrows in the tree tops, "You seem awfully interested in my dancing career. Should I be concerned?"

"I couldn't imagine why you would be," Edmund shrugged, "As a friend, it would be odd if I didn't express concern for your daily exercise or lack thereof."

Her mouth flew agape, an incredulous heat colouring her cheeks as she rebuked him, "I exercise!"

"You just told me that you spend all your time writing," Edmund deadpanned.

Grace glared at him, her knuckles pale in comparison to the flush in her hands as she gripped Maiden's reins, "Travelling across the Cair is exercise enough."

"The areas you frequent are close together, as set by the orders I wrote."

The comment earned him a set of narrowed and very grey eyes.

Edmund felt a little colour drain from his cheeks but refused to let his calm expression falter. He hadn't meant to mention the orders, especially since the scroll of parchment had turned out to be so detrimental to both of their existences.

The words had slipped from his lips as easily as they might have if he'd been discussing the weather with his siblings. It was lapse in his usually well filtered speech that Edmund found concerning.

"Would you say this is exercise?" Grace asked. Her face had smoothed again, as if he'd never brought up the subject of her imprisonment to begin with.

Edmund watched with a pointed look as she adjusted her seat again, "You've only gained two days of experience on horseback. I wouldn't count this just yet."

Disappointment crinkled at the corners of her eyes; they were now significantly less grey, stripped of her indignation and excuses to reveal the fear beneath it all.

Edmund sighed. Somewhere between his first enquiry to now, they'd gotten lost. A mix of subjects and back and forth marring his original intention just short of repair.

"In any case, what I have been trying to get at," Edmund tried again, "Is that you're a wonderful dancer, Grace. It would be a shame to let that talent go to waste."

He kept his eyes stubbornly forward facing as he avoided her reaction. Simple compliments were just that; a charming smile, the inflection in his voice. It all came easy to him.

But this compliment was genuine and raw. There was more than appreciation for the art behind it, there was an envy. Many of his first nights in the Western Woods saw Edmund at the sidelines of The Grove. Not as an outcast or an outsider – no Westerner would ever allow that – but as a simple clumsy boy.

It had taken years for the Young King to obtain the lightness of step required to master the dance of his people. Even more so to learn to draw their songs from an instrument – and even then, there was only one instrument he had grown comfortable with, the lute.

This wasn't the first time Edmund had mentioned her dancing. He'd appreciated it once before – or at least he had tried to on the balcony that night. There was no mistaking the eerie grace he'd worked so hard for, the tenuously fragile movement which came to her naturally. He could feel his eyes move with the ghost of her form, dancing around him in circles like she had at Susan's birthday ball. Appreciation and envy the muscles behind their tilt.

A flicker of his eyes was enough to gage her expression. She was looking at him, her eyes soft and appreciative. It was much unlike the responses he'd grown used to; Susan would often wave him off, murmuring about some hair out of place and Lucy would beam brilliantly and latch onto him in a matter that was endearing and slightly embarrassing.

Grace gazed at him with an appreciation that saw the effort behind the compliment alongside its basic meaning. It was if her blue eyes saw him, instead of the value he provided.

Her appreciation was not overbearing, not judgemental, it simply was. Difficult to wrap your mind around yet somehow conceptually simple.

It was odd, the feeling of relief that replaced the embarrassment swelling in his cheeks. It soothed the dizzying pink from his skin and replaced it with cool understanding.

Grace's own clear cheeks stretched into a smile, it was simple yet abashed in the light of his compliment, "Well, if you're going to say something like that, I guess I have no choice."

Edmund's heart swelled.

"But if I break a leg, it's on you," Grace added.

A bark of a laugh escaped Edmund's throat. He attempted to look serious – though, he was absolutely certain that Grace was more than capable of keeping herself in one piece.

"Then I'd better take the trouble of choosing your dance partners myself," Edmund's lips lifted into a wry smile, "We wouldn't want one of them to trip you up."