XXXVI

GRACE

Second Child, Restless Child – The Oh Hellos

Grace knew she could do this. She had to. The pride in her soul would not allow any different.

The feeling of the wind through her loose tresses was exhilarating as she urged maiden forward. The brown hood of her cloak had long since fallen over her shoulders, allowing the sun to hit her scalp with the full blast of the mid-morning sun.

A feeling of urgency pushed her forward, her legs applying just enough pressure to Maiden's sides to drive the mare faster.

Grace and Maiden moved as one, horse and rider long bonded through many hours and lessons under King Edmund's instruction. The pounding of the Mare's hooves on grass matching the steady rhythm of Grace's heart.

They were gaining on them now, just out of reach of their dark-haired opponents galloping in stride. Phillip was faltering – Grace could tell – with each second that passed his strides became shorter. His energy giving way to the old age he would over dramatically complain about.

This was their chance! Grace squeezed Maiden a final time as her hands tightened on the reins. One last push was all it should take, Maiden being much spryer than the old Talking Beast.

With every second that passed the distance lessened but perhaps it wouldn't be enough? Grace eyed the finish line they'd outlined, the space between two outlying trees of the Eastern Wood growing closer and closer.

There was nothing to do but hold her breath and hope, knowing already that she'd pushed Maiden her limits and could not ask for more. Anticipation and fear of failure clawed at her chest in a bloody tug of war.

Grace and King Edmund were neck and neck, the King only briefly throwing her a look. It was too quick for her to see, too unknown for her to confirm his fear of loss. At the very least, he seemed to be enjoying himself. The grin of sparkling teeth he bore was unmistakable, even from a blurry distance.

Grace began to wonder if there was enough space between the two trees to fit them both. If there was not, one of them would need to give way to the other to avoid crashing. As expected, her sidelong glances told her it would not be King Edmund.

The air shifted around them, the full force of it shifting from Grace's front to her behind. It was as if the breeze was egging them on. Pushing both riders to their inevitable end – wrapped around a tree or worse, around each other.

For a brief second, Grace considered letting up – the idea of being lodged in a King-sized pretzel unappetizing to say the least – however, something quickly changed her mind.

Maiden's head surged forwards with a new energy, quickly surpassing Phillip's own and bringing her rider one step closer to winning.

With a renewed strength, Grace wrapped the reins once more around her hands, prepared for the moment she would need to slow the Mare to a halt. The sight of the growing trees was more promising now and for the first time in three days, Grace thought she might just get there first.

Her efforts were rewarded when Maiden swiftly passed the markers, yielding almost immediately to her riders tugging commands and in the moment of exhilaration, Grace made a noise she'd never heard from her lips before.

She didn't care for she had won!

There was a triumphant glean in her eyes as she turned her head towards King Edmund. Expecting to find a man who was nursing his worn-out friend and bruised pride. Instead, she was greeted by a proud man, his grin brightened by the fruits of his efforts and her labours.

"Well done! A good show of your riding prowess indeed!" King Edmund cheered. Phillip was heaving deep breaths of air and so did not have anything to add.

Grace guided Maiden back to their side, "Thank you! I couldn't have done it without your help."

"I dare say you couldn't," The King nodded, "However, you should give yourself credit where it is due. No one could have learned to ride in two weeks without a thorough determination."

A wry smile tilted the corners of Grace's lips, "You're being awfully generous about this."

King Edmund's head tilted oddly, "I'm sorry, is it incorrect of me to praise you? Was there some other way you expected me to react to your accomplishments?"

Grace shrugged, "Perhaps not. I only thought you might be a little sore about losing our race."

The King laughed heartily, "That is because you are making the assumption that Phillip and I didn't let you win."

As the huffs from Phillip continued below him, Grace found that hard to believe.

"Don't get used to it," He continued, "We fully intend on cleaning house in the next one."

"Which is when?" Grace challenged. Her hands rewrapping themselves in the soft leather reins of anticipation.

King Edmund patted Phillips neck in a calming manner, the motion rhythmic in nature, "Right about… now!"

The two took off at breakneck speed towards the stables, leaving Grace and Maiden stunned in the settling dust.

A fierce grin stretched across her face at the sight of their shrinking form, the challenge of another race urging she and Maiden forward at a matched pace.

This time, King Edmund won, but it was not without the healthy dosage of snide remarks which Grace threw his way. 'Cheater', 'swindler' and 'con artist' were only a few of the many jeers she had come up with.

The King wore it well, the cheeky smirk on his face being telltale enough that he was pleased with himself, no matter what she thought of him.

When Phillip had seen them, he was still heaving but now it was in a completely different nature.

"You actually believed I was tired," The Talking Horse wheezed between nickering laughs and joyful digs at the dirt floor.

Grace gave him a narrowed glare, "It isn't fair to play on someone like that in order to win."

"I think you'll often find that life isn't fair Grace," King Edmund popped his head over Phillips back, "One must use all tools and knowledge at their disposal."

"I thought you didn't believe in disingenuous behaviour," Grace bit, her arms folded in an unimpressed manner.

The brush in the King's hand halted, the soothing scratching noise ceasing with it, "In the context of getting ahead in life, yes. But if it comes down to life or death, all avenues must be explored."

Grace didn't have an answer for that, sufficiently disciplined by his serious tone of voice. It had become clear to her by now that the King did not like to be questioned, which honestly made her want to do it all the more.

"Shall I tie Maiden up in her stable, Grace?" A kind faced Stable Hand asked, "Or do you wish to ride some more?"

Grace's eyes flickered to the top of King Edmund's dark head, "Please tie her up, I couldn't ride more, even if I wanted to."

The Stable Hand nodded, gently tugging the reins from Grace's grasp as he led the horse further into the darkened hallway.

"You could ride more, you know."

Grace jumped, startled by the unexpected voice of the King, "What?"

"You could continue to ride if it suited you," He clarified over the scratching brush he rubbed against Phillips behind, "There has been no response from King Ventotene and I could easily manage the stack of paperwork due today."

There was an unease that spiked uncomfortably at her insides. The thought of riding alone unsettling to Grace for more than simple safety reasons.

"I don't think I am ready to ride alone," She voiced unsurely.

"I do," King Edmund returned, his eyes earnest pelts of sun-warmed fur.

In response, Grace's brow rose, "You aren't worried that I would make a run for it?"

The King faltered, the warm brown cementing to stoic bark, "Well, I am now. Thank you so much for reminding me."

"You're welcome," Grace replied in false cheer.

With a shake of his dark hair the King returned to brushing Phillip's coat, "I wish you wouldn't do that."

"Do what?"

"Remind me," the Just King muttered, "I am offering freedoms Grace. It's nothing to turn your nose up at."

The sting of her petulance burned fervently in his words and Grace regretted her own immediately.

It was common for her to joke about her freedom or lack thereof and the King's part in it, sometimes she caught herself mentioning it before the words fully formed in her brain. It was like she unconsciously thought it an inside joke between them, rather than the hurtful truth it had truly become.

"I'm sorry," Grace whispered, "I don't mean to seem ungrateful. I would love to ride more, it's only that I've become accustomed to being around you whilst I do it."

There was a kind understanding in the sigh that left his lips, "Did you never think that you might need to learn to ride without my assistance."

"It isn't your assistance I seek," Grace said, the words tumbling from her mouth like beads on a string. They scattered to the air before her mind could catch them, "Though I'm beginning to think that's all you're here for."

The scratching noise of the soft brush stilled halfway across the Phillip's chestnut back, "It isn't."

The noise continued as quickly as it had finished, with the King focusing on the task more vigorously than he should. Phillip didn't mind, muzzle locked determinedly in the bucket of oats he'd been given as a bargain to keep still.

"I originally offered to teach you to ride as a form of solace, Grace. I'd imagine you wouldn't find much around me."

Grace's eyes narrowed at the King's back, "Well, you're wrong."

Truthfully, she enjoyed his presence during their morning rides. King Edmund had proved a contemplative riding partner – when he wasn't correcting her form in that annoying know-it-all voice of his.

King Edmund didn't turn at her comment, he didn't even acknowledge it. The brush gripped firmly in his hands continued to scratch in small circular motions against Phillip's side.

He always did that. Whenever Grace showed an ounce of honesty towards her regard for him or after he complimented her in any manner, he wouldn't linger. There were no comforting looks or small smiles, he simply looked ahead of him in that stoic practiced manner he looked at everything.

It didn't trouble her, not really. Grace had never known true companionship until her friendship with Lucy and found the ground she now stood on was fresh, promising even, but unknown all the same. Who was she to know what was right or wrong in these circumstances?

She opened her mouth, a jeer in mind to return the air back to their usual banter but the words died on her lips at a voice from the darkened interior of the stables.

"Your Majesty!"

King Edmund perked from his stupor, leaning backwards to peer around Phillips neck.

The rhythmic hoof steps of a centaur were keenly recognised, even to Grace who had only attuned to them over the past month or so.

They were steps she knew well, for when the dark curls and furrowed brow of the Centaur in question trotted into the sunlight, it was no other than Casys himself.

"Sir Casys," The Just King greeted as the Centaur lowered his head in respect, "What is your business?"

"I have just come from the Cair Courtyard sire, where a number of your subjects are gathering at this moment to greet the Queen Lucy," Casys explained civilly, his hooves stamping against the dirt with excitement.

"Lucy?" Grace whispered, relief bubbling to her shoulders and threatening to lift her into the air.

King Edmund looked as though he may slump with relief at the news, "Thank you, Sir. I shall meet with her directly. Is there an estimated time of arrival?"

"The Watch Tower sighted her party over the farthest hill but twenty minutes ago," Casys confirmed.

"Very well, I shall return with you," The King grinned, hastily throwing the brush into a bag and patting Phillip on the side, "I'm sorry, I would do more but-"

The Talking Horse cut him off with a snort, "I wouldn't let you, My King. Go to your family, there is nothing for you here."

King Edmund nodded gratefully as he peered over the chestnut beasts back, "Are you coming Grace?"

Grace looked between his expectant gaze and the empty darkness of the stable entryway, "I uh-"

She wanted nothing more than to agree on the spot – to run to the Cair Courtyard and see for herself that her friend was alright.

Filly wouldn't mind would she? Surely not when Grace told her of the circumstances. The Talking Horse had heard much of Grace's friendship with Lucy during their daily brush. She was sure Filly wouldn't mind.

It was only the firm and dampening image of Maiden tied up in her stall that held her back now.

"Give me a moment," She breathed, picking up her skirts and charging towards the familiar stall. She found the stable hand there, elbow deep in the Mare's saddle as it was hoisted from her back.

He nodded respectfully on her arrival, the motion pausing all other movements including his arms holding the leather seat, "Miss Grace."

Grace heaved a steadying breath, the words releasing in one fell and tangled swoop, "Can-you-groom-Maiden-for-me-this-morning?"

The Faun raised a thick and pointed brow, "I beg your pardon?"

"Sorry," Grace wheezed, the sentence had depleted her air supply, "Theres something I have to do, could I ask that you groom Maiden this morning?"

The brow did not lower as the Stable Hand replied, "It is my job."

The relief was instantaneous and threatened to carry her off before she could show any semblance of manners, "Great! Thank you, I owe you one!"

The Stable Hand stared after her oddly as she alighted, unsure what 'owing one' meant to begin with.

By the time the trio reached the outskirts of the Cair's Courtyard, Grace found herself out of breath. She leaned against the stone entryway, the air heaving from her lungs too noisy to hear anything else.

King Edmund and Casys walked on, unknowing that their charge had stuck behind to recover.

Grace – too out of breath to protest – eyed their backs through narrowed slits as they sifted through the crowds. Casys had not lied, they were thick. It seemed that all manner of creatures had come to welcome their Valiant Queen home.

As Grace began to follow the King's path she stopped at the edge of an emptied semi-circle. The area which surrounded the gateway had been left bare to allow room for the party's entrance.

She couldn't find the courage to step across the emptied stone the way King Edmund had, his stride just as sure and true as that of Casys who walked beside him. He joined his older siblings at the edge of the Cair's steps, slotting himself on the other side of Queen Susan as if he'd always belonged there.

Grace, however, did not. She was not family and probably could not boast a stronger acquaintance to Lucy than any other in the Courtyard could. So she remained put at the very edge of the circle, bouncing on the balls of her feet in anticipation.

They did not have to wait long, cheers of joy sounded from the overhanging Watch Tower and further than that were the cheers of those that had lined up beyond and along the edges of Gate Bridge.

Cheers travelled in a wave, each creature picking up the energy of the one before them as the Party came into their sight. Grace found herself clapping with them, the exuberant smile on her face as wide as any of the others.

The Party returned the cheer in kind, with broad grins and waves to their fellow Narnians. They looked a little worn, a few scuffs on cheeks and elbows and their weapons had clearly seen better days, but all in all they were safe and that was all anyone who cheered on the cobblestone could have wished for.

When Lucy came into sight – her deep golden hair catching the morning sun as it bobbed back and forth on horseback – the cheers grew louder still. They were nearly deafening as all voices conjoined into one.

The Youngest Queen held a few scratches of her own, though none as substantial as those of her guards. She beamed pleasantly at her subjects, her wave exaggerated in a much like Lucy fashion. She was open and honest, beautiful and kind, and in certain lights utterly feral in her joy.

When the party halted, neither of the King's or Queen's wasted a moment. Lucy was immediately unhitched from her horse, the Eldest of her brothers tugging her into a bear hug the moment her feet touched the ground. Queen Susan joined them, then King Edmund too – although he was slower than the others. The three made up a singularly mismatched huddle of an emotion that Grace could dare not name. It was hard to watch.

The members of Lucy's guard split into the crowd, swerving well-wishers and friends for families of their own. Similar mounds of creatures began to huddle everywhere, the small groups heart-warmingly bound in relief.

Lucy was indiscernible from her siblings now, the trio sheltering her within arms and cloaks, but it was not long before she shoved them off. Grace could her our outburst for air from where she stood and held back her humorous smile at the rant that followed.

The Valiant Queen turned to the Just King, a silent question upon her lips. At this, King Edmund looked amongst the crowd. It was as though he'd lost something… or someone.

His dark eyes continued to scan, furrowed behind deep set brows until finally, they locked with Grace's own.

Her breath caught in her throat as the Just King pointed her out, the sight of Grace causing Lucy to brighten exceptionally. The Valiant Queen picked up her skirts and raced across the Courtyard, stopping for nothing, not even when she collided with Grace herself.

"Oomph," Grace muttered when the unstoppable force met the unmovable object, immediately feeling the grip of her friends arms around her back.

"Oh, how I've missed you!" Lucy cried into her shoulder.

Grace felt her shoulders relax for the first time in an age, the knowledge of her friends safety finally sinking into her bones and soothing her soul. She gripped Lucy's shoulders tighter and whispered, "I've missed you too."

Lucy let go – all too soon in Grace's opinion – but she didn't move far. She leaned back and assessed her friend with vibrant blue eyes, "So much happened! I met a Marshwiggle and saw my first Wigwam. Oh, if only you could have been there, Grace! Narnia has no limit to her beauty nor to the wonderous friends she provides!"

A fond smile stretched Grace's cheeks, "You will have to tell me all about it."

Lucy's ecstatic nod of agreement was only marred by the sidelong glance she threw to her siblings, "Perhaps not right now, though. I'm supposed to provide a status report on the Northern Reaches and my brothers tend to be impatient with military matters."

"Of course," Grace agreed, eyes catching the exasperated stare of King Edmund, "I wouldn't want to delay important matters of state."

The Valiant Queen grinned as she took Grace's hand in two of her own and gripped it with promise, "I'll send for you later."

Grace nodded, releasing her friend easily as she watched Lucy return to her siblings across the cobblestone courtyard.

Before she could get too far, however, Lucy was sure to call over her shoulder – unknowingly embarrassing Grace in front of the crowd of Narnian onlookers, "I want to hear everything that is happening with you also. Be ready for my man, I'll send for you later today!"

It was two hours before Grace was summoned. A long, painstaking purgatory filled with Orchestra instruction and ink-stained paper.

Grace was on edge, impatient to hear the news of her friend. In an effort to remain available, she had not immersed herself fully into any task, only keeping her distance and offering pointers as necessary.

It was for the best, Margrove had been metaphorically and physically tugging his hair at the root about the Christmas performance. There was still a few weeks before said event would take place, however, the knowledge did nothing to lessen the Fauns panic.

Before she had left, Grace stopped the Faun to make sure he would be okay. Her contributions were minimal but all the same, she did not want to leave her friend bereft of assistance. Margrove had only shaken his head, black eyes wild with anxiety as he muttered something about the song being out of key and a letter he had to deliver.

Queen Lucy the Valiant had a number of rooms aligned in the East Wing of Cair Paravel. The hallways were bathed in sunlight every which way as it refracted through the spattered colours and textures of its glass roof. It was as if one had stepped onto a rainbow.

The Page who had been sent to retrieve her kept exactly five paces in front of her and no matter how Grace quickened or slowed, he remained just so. His legs were a little different to other Faun's she had seen, and it made Grace wonder whether he was a different kind of related species.

Instead of having horns and legs coated with goat fur, this Narnian's legs were more like a horses, covered in a soft coat of deep brown, the tail also mirrored this with long strands of blackened hair which matched the wavy mess atop his head. Grace hoped that Lucy would not mind her asking about it later.

Just as the curiosity began to eat at her, the Page stopped unexpectedly. Grace made a noise as she bumped into him, startled by the sturdiness of the creature.

He looked at her through cold dark eyes – darker even than Margrove's coal black ones. The Page didn't look pleased, the frown set on his small lips downturned as he glared.

Grace stepped back, head lowered in shame as the Narnian knocked on the door.

"Enter," The comforting singsong of Lucy's voice filtered through the painted wood.

The door was opened and the Page moved to the side as Grace entered, his glare never leaving her hunched form.

She did not feel the weight of the goose pimpling gaze leave her until the door clicked firmly shut behind her and even then she was aware of his displeasure through the wood.

Grace shuddered to shake the feeling, choosing instead to venture further into the small sitting room.

It was beautifully decorated, the furniture, windows and setting all similar to her own room. Lucy must have had a hand in decorating it, she assumed, remembering the Valiant Queen's proud claim on her first day in Cair Paravel.

The Queen in question sat comfortably on a chaise, her legs elongated under a plush robe as she nestled her back into its corner. Her hair was wet, the spun gold threads clinging to each other atop her forehead as her face was stuffed into a book. Grace was not sure as to the subject as it was unlabelled, the black leather binding plain and wrinkled in the sunlight through the windows.

Lucy peered over the book for a brief second, "I'll be with you in a moment Grace, I'm just catching up."

Grace nodded, taking the liberty of sitting herself in the opposing armchair. Between them sat a small coffee table, or perhaps it was that the coffee table only looked small due to the large platters of food sitting upon it.

There were trays upon trays of sandwiches, meats and cheeses alongside a lovely selection of creamed cakes and savoury muffins. Grace's mouth watered at the sight, only minimally noticing the amount of food that was missing from the still – overflowing trays.

This must have been where the King's and Queen's held their meeting.

Grace could see it, the exact positions each monarch would take in such a place. She imagined that Queen Susan would have sat in this armchair, the scent of her perfume still lingering on its cushions. The High King Peter would have undoubtedly been at Lucy's side, where her feet now sat – a conclusion easily drawn from the number of sandwiches missing on that side of the table.

There were only two seats, however, and Grace puzzled over just where King Edmund would have taken up residence. That was until her eyes locked onto the roaring fireplace. There was not a single doubt in her mind as she imagined him leant against the mantel piece, attempting to draw as much heat from the fire as possible – for Lucy's fire was much calmer compared to his own and the difference in the air was palpable.

Winter was most definitely here.

As Grace giggled at her inside joke, Lucy looked at her curiously from atop the book.

"What's so funny?" The Valiant Queen asked.

Grace shook her head, "It's nothing, just a little joke about the winter."

"Oh," Lucy said, "If I were you I wouldn't mention such things around Edmund, he can be a bit touchy."

"I've noticed," Grace answered wryly.

Lucy sighed as she rubbed her eyes, the black book closing in her other hand, "I hope you found my rooms easy. I did send my Page to be sure."

"I did," Grace edged, unsure whether to mention the particularly hostile behaviour of the Narnian.

Lucy was shrewd as ever and picked up on her discomfort immediately, "Was he nice to you?"

A short shrug was hopefully enough to diffuse matters, Grace did not want to get between the Queen and her staff, "He got me here."

"He's like that. It's nothing personal I promise you. Verdan isn't particularly fond of people in general, let alone strangers. It's an odd trait of his… No other satyr I've met is quite like him," The Valiant Queen sighed before adding, "Sometimes, I think he only likes me."

A Satyr, that was new. Grace only barely recalled their existence in Greek Mythology and had nothing to compare them to description wise. There was no clues as to his cold demeanour or why he would favour Lucy.

An unintended smile warmed Grace's face. Regardless of Mythology, Lucy had a talent for endearing herself to all – the idea that she could break down even the coldest of hearts felt unsurprising.

"As he's your Page, I'm sure that serves you well," She commented as her grey gaze caught on a particularly appetizing triangle cut sandwich.

Lucy followed her line of sight, giving a small giggle as she offered them to her, "Please, eat it all if you can. Susan grossly overestimated how much our brothers would eat."

Grace took the triangle gingerly, eyeing the ham and cheese mixture with joy. It looked like the cheese had partially melted in the window refracted sunlight, the sight of the gooey mess making her ravenous and homesick at the same time.

The black book was dropped unceremoniously atop the chaise cushion as Lucy pushed her legs to the side. Grace eyed the book as it sat teetering on the cushions edge.

"That book is unmarked," Grace began when she could not hold her curiosity any longer, "Does it come from your personal library?"

Lucy shook her head, "It's a journal of work that my Royal Siblings and I keep between the four of us. It tracks tasks, significant changes or conversations. Anything crucial to the care of Narnia."

When Grace did not question further, Lucy filled the air with further explanation, "We normally go through one tome a year by limiting ourselves to information of the utmost importance."

"I get it," Grace nodded, "I'm sure it would be difficult to keep track of everything you each do separately. Having a written record would be valuable."

Lucy smiled fondly as she stroked the black leather binding, "It was Edmund's idea."

Grace didn't doubt it.

"You should see the ones from our first years in Narnia, we went through so many!" Lucy reminisced, "Sometimes I'll go back and look through the pages. Run my hands over our old handwriting."

The fond look of familial love in Lucy's eyes made Grace's heart ache, "That bad?"

Lucy grinned at her, "I was terrible at first."

Their laughter filled the air alongside the crackling roar of the fire, eventually Lucy returned her eyes to the older ink-stained pages of the book, "Look! You're in here."

Grace joined her side at the invitation, curiosity far outweighing the dread of what could have been written.

"See," Lucy pointed as Grace settled herself on the plush cushion, "Dies Veneris, October, 8 days before the Kalends, Unknown Party taken aboard the Splendour Hyaline – Calls themselves 'Grace'. Further investigation required – to be undertaken by Edmund."

There it was, the first record of Grace's appearance in Narnia. She knew the handwriting of King Edmund well but seeing the way his ink curved around her name was inviting in a way Grace couldn't name. It was as if she was reading a secret, forbidden to her eyes yet too tempting to withstand.

"The only word I understand in that sentence is 'October'," Grace muttered, eyes still fixated on the elegant scrawl of the King.

Lucy latched onto her arm in disbelief, "You mean, you've lived here for over a month and you've still not learnt our Calendar? How on earth have you been helping Edmund with his work?"

Grace shrugged, "I normally leave the dates blank and hope he fills them in."

"Grace!" Lucy scolded lightly, "I can't believe you haven't mentioned this before now."

"Well it's too late to learn a new system now," Grace joked loudly, "I learned my days and months of the year in Primary School. My perception cannot be changed."

Lucy laughed, the sound light and breathy as she leaned onto Grace's shoulder, "Oh, I've missed you."

Grace leaned into the embrace, thrilled to have her friend back again.

The hesitant hand of the Valiant Queen ran along the page, "This is the first time I'll be adding something substantial to the book."

Grace's eyes narrowed on a particular point of text, "Isn't that your name just there?"

Lucy sighed, "Yes, but it's not for anything as great as this. My time in the Northern Reaches will be instrumental if there is a battle to come."

Grace stared at the sombre expression of the Valiant Queen, a confusion tugging at her mind. She was sure she'd heard that Lucy had fought her fair share of battles as a Queen of Narnia, she couldn't imagine what could be more substantial than that.

"How was your trip to the Northern Reaches?" Grace asked.

Lucy sat straighter, her bold blue irises practically buzzing at the chance to recant everything, "It was wonderful! Dangerous, but wonderful. We rode every day from dawn 'til dusk and I got to see place's I've not been to since I was a child!"

Grace's soul warmed at the sight of her friends excitement as Lucy spoke in a most animated manner. Her expressions shifted with the fluid motions of her hands as she explained the journey in great detail.

"The nights were lovely – though a little chilly if you ask me. For the first few, we were able to light a fire. There would be no Ettins that far past the border and so the smoke wouldn't alert anyone to our presence. Sir Cesone would tell us stories over it. Oh, how I wish you could have been there to hear them! I already know some of them myself, but I do not think I could do them justice the way he does!"

"I can believe it," Grace agreed, "Casys would tell stories to pass the time in my first few weeks here. He had such a way about telling them, I have to admit I was a little jealous of it."

Lucy took her hand cheerily, "I wholeheartedly agree. Though, if you thought Casys's retelling impressive, just wait until you experience it under the open space of starlight with the warmth of a campfire at your knees. There truly is nothing like it."

Grace grinned at her friend's enthusiasm, "I can't wait to see it."

Lucy's face lit up at the prospect, "I can't wait to show you. If only there was a way to bottle such a thing and take it home with you! I spent much of my youth under the night sky, falling asleep to the stories of Narnia. Now, I seem to find less and less time for such adventures."

"You seem to have traded them for adventures of a different kind," Grace offered.

"I suppose I have," Lucy agreed, "I must confess this adventure was new in all kinds of ways. I've been into battle and fielded negotiations with other countries but never have I journeyed stealthily before."

A familiar sense of anxiety crept across the Grace's cloth covered shoulders.

"At first I thought I might not see any action," The Queen continued dejectedly, "What with Edmund's orders to have the Healers Tent moved into the Marshwiggle territory."

When Lucy noticed Grace's blank expression she explained further, "The Marshwiggle territory lies in the North Easternmost region of Narnia. It's largely composed of marshlands. The Giants would not make it far into them without sinking, you see?"

Grace nodded vaguely, her mind still hung on Lucy's phrasing of the sentence, "But you did see action? Despite being so far into the Marshlands."

Lucy's lips twisted in a familiarly guilty manner that made Grace wince.

"Lucy-"

"It wasn't on purpose," The Queen explained hurriedly, her hands raised in a peaceful gesture, "Oh… Well maybe it was – a little – but it had to be done."

"What did?"

The Valiant Queen's expression faltered, her lower lip quivering smally as she muttered her next words, "Ritilian's funeral."

Oh.

Grace vaguely recalled the healer who had been killed in one of the Giants attacks. The event which had forced Lucy through the Study Door that morning. She now looked much like she did then, her big blue eyes brimming with unshed tears as she held her lips in a firm line. It was the stitch to hold herself together, nothing moving past those lips, not even air as the Queen calmed herself. Grace took her hand in solidarity until it had passed.

Lucy released a shuddering breath at the contact, "Marshlands are too soft to bury in, we had to take it further inland. I found a hillside with a Juniper tree – Ritilian always loved those," She sniffled, "It was hard to find space amongst the roots but eventually we dug deep enough."

In a kindness similar to Lucy's that day on the beach, Grace placed a soothing hand upon her friends back.

Lucy gave her a watery smile, "Did you know it is a Narnian custom to be buried under a tree?"

"I didn't," Grace replied soothingly.

"Some believe that if you are not yet ready to face Aslan's judgement that he might show you the kindness of a second chance. Many Sentient Tree's in Narnia claim a soul has been buried under their roots."

"Do they also claim to be that soul?" Grace asked curiously.

Lucy shook her head, "None have any memories of anything other than the life they currently live."

"Then, how do people believe in it?"

The Valiant Queen's eyes burned, but it was not fury that lay encapsulated in her irises, rather a different fire, "They believe in the goodness of Aslan."

Aslan, there was that name again. In her time upon Narnian shores Grace had heard it often in passing with greetings and exclamations of a Great Lion commonplace alongside it. It had happened so often that Grace had begun to think the two were one and the same.

"You mentioned danger?" Grace prompted, the ache in her heart unbearable as she watched a lone tear slither down Lucy's reddened cheek.

The Queen hastily wiped it away, "Yes, we were attacked just after the dirt was replaced. I don't think it was intentional as they were not heading in our direction, but they found us all the same."

Grace's concerned gaze drew to the small scrape on Lucy's cheekbone, when the Queen noticed her look, she angled her chin to show it off.

"Fell flat on my face as we tried to escape," She explained, "There were three giants and not even I am foolhardy enough to attempt to fight that large a foe at the risk of my friends."

Grace watched Lucy's expression shift from to pain to anger, anticipation laced itself tightly around her throat as she waited for the next words she knew would come.

"We had made it halfway to the tree line before they tried to uproot the juniper tree."

Grace gasped, her hand stilling upon Lucy's back.

The Valiant Queen's head shook with disbelief, "I had heard that the Ettins held no respect for our customs, but to see their blatant disrespect for one right before my eyes. I couldn't let it stand."

"What did you do?"

"I shot one in the eye."

Grace's eyes widened at her acclaimed archery prowess, "From what distance?"

The Queen considered her response before replying, "Maybe a hundred yards?"

"A hundred?" The feat was near impossible; a target so precise could not be achieved at a hundred yards with a crossbow, let alone an unsighted longbow. Not without an insane amount of luck.

Lucy's easy shrug only served to amaze her further, "I can't really claim the credit for such a shot. I used Susan's bow."

Grace stared at her friend dumbly, unsure what correlation Queen Susan had to the matter. A bow was a bow, no matter who owned it. She voiced her thoughts with the assertion of a professional.

Lucy only laughed, "I would take your logic as fact, friend, but logic has no hand in this scenario."

"What do you mean?" Grace demanded.

"The bow is magical," Lucy explained obviously, "Given to my sister by Father Christmas himself."

Magical? Grace's mind struggled to wrap around the word. Watery sheets, talking beasts and sentient trees seemed to be the limit to which her belief had reached already.

"I still remember what he said that day," Lucy continued, "'Trust in this bow and it will not easily miss'. I can tell you from personal experience that he did not lie."

"But does that mean the item is magical? I'd just as soon believe that you and Queen Susan are simply excellent shots," Grace reasoned.

The fierce determination in the Queen's eye was not tolerant of Grace's antics, "Don't tell me you don't believe in magic?"

"I wish I could believe in magic," Grace defended, "But there's been little I've seen in my life to evidence its existence."

Lucy's head was shaking in denial before Grace had finished, "I cannot believe you have experienced the feat of entering Narnia firsthand and yet still do not believe in the existence of magic."

Grace felt her lips curdle at her tone, "Enough, I want to hear about what else you did with this magic bow."

"You could try to sound a little less sarcastic than that," Lucy scolded but then sighed continued all the same, "The fight was not much to linger on. I shot some arrows, Sir Cesone managed to scare them back to whence they came. Their easy defeat is what makes me believe they had not come looking for a fight to begin with."

"And after that?"

Lucy shrugged sombrely, "We returned to the Marshwiggle territory. There was another friend who I tended to there, I oversaw the better part of his care."

"Maltooth, right?" Grace asked, the name successfully retrieved from the trenches of her memory, "How is he faring?"

"He will be fine," Lucy said, "Another week of rest and he'll return to his work. I've asked to be kept informed of his progress, just to be safe."

Grace nodded, her hand falling from the Queen's back.

"I just wish I could do more," Lucy voiced fervently.

Unintentionally, Grace's right brow lifted with sarcasm, "You stuck the equivalent of a needle into a giant's eye and scared off the other two. I think that's plenty for the moment."

Lucy rolled her eyes, "You've clearly been spending too much time with my brother, you're even starting to sound like him."

"What did he have to say about your little misadventure?" Grace asked pointedly.

Lucy looked at her, the deception in her half-circled irises perfectly clear.

Grace sighed, "You didn't tell them."

"Not about the giants," Lucy confirmed.

The implication of the Queen's words hung heavily through the room. Of course, Grace would not reveal her secrets – it was not her place – but there was something that curdled within her at the thought of lying. Worse, of lying to King Edmund.

The ice Grace had once been living on had thickened considerably due to their close proximity. At this stage in their acquaintance, Grace would even venture to say their banter was friendly rather than pointed. There was a very high chance that thickness would melt under the heat of her fiery pants.

She would have to just grit her teeth and hope he didn't ask. Shouldn't be too difficult.

Lucy straightened as she stretched against the backrest of the chaise, "It's your turn now! I want to hear all about your adventures whilst I've been away!"

Grace frowned, "I'm afraid there isn't much to tell."

But the Valiant Queen was insistent, "Don't give me that! What about your duties in the Orchestra and to the Kitchens?"

"My Kitchen duties have been postponed until further notice," Grace shrugged.

At the unexpected news, the Queen gripped her arm, "What?! Who sanctioned that?"

"Your brother did."

Lucy did not need to be told exactly which brother that was, "Of course it was Edmund, why do I even bother asking?"

"It wasn't a bad thing," Grace tried to reason, "They were postponed in favour of riding lessons."

The oddest expression came across Lucy's face, "Riding lessons?"

Grace nodded, "They commenced a few days after you left."

"Well, I suppose that's different," The Valiant Queen murmured, "How far along are you?"

"I can gallop, I even beat your brother in a race today – though he claims to have let me win."

Lucy snorted, "Figures, he was always a sore loser."

Grace shrugged, "I don't know… He and Phillip did beat me on the race back to the stables."

A perfectly groomed brow arched upon the Queens face, "Did he cheat?"

"Yes," Grace recalled with irritation.

"How typical," Lucy grinned.

"How very unchivalrous," Grace countered lightly.

The Valiant Queen laughed, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you've become fond of him."

Grace's glare could have scalded ice, "I have given no indication of that."

"But you don't deny it," Lucy rebuffed, "He's growing on you!"

"He is not," Grace denied, "I mean it, Lucy. Your brother is great and I mean no disrespect but he has got to be the biggest snarkiest know-it-all I've ever met in my life."

Thankfully, Lucy did not look offended at all. Her knowing eyes only served to irritate Grace further as she whispered, "Don't worry, you'll find his snarkiness quite charming eventually."

"I think I'd sooner strap a dumbbell to my foot and drown."

Lucy laughed, "I must admit, you fared better without me than I dared to hope."

This time, it was Grace's perfectly ungroomed brow that rose, "You call my possession of a pity win a success?"

"I told you," Lucy chastised, "Edmund is a sore loser. He doesn't even like to lose insincerely."

Grace stared blankly at her friend, the point of the statement completely lost on her.

Lucy groaned, "Don't you see? His admission of defeat is a step forward in the right direction. Edmund is very picky of whom he bestows his pity wins."

"I guess a step further into his pity might mean I can guilt trip him into showing me the Wardrobe later on," Grace shrugged, the hope was feeble at best due to the feeling that the King could not be guilt tripped into anything.

Lucy only confirmed this, "I'm afraid you'll have little luck there. I barely scrape by on the good will of being a younger sister – you, however, have no such connection."

Well there went that plan. It seemed Grace would need to continue to build trust with King Edmund in order to see the unfiltered light of her homeland ever again.

It wasn't such a bad prospect. The past two weeks had honestly proven pleasant. Between the banter and the silence, Grace and King Edmund had begun to build an acquaintance based in trust and openness. Exactly as they'd planned.

The King had taken the oath of open tactics very seriously, going as far to explain everything to her to a detail which Grace sometimes found uncomfortable. A particular example of this had been when the Just King had told her Shese would be inspecting her rooms for any stolen papers. When Grace asked how long this had been going on, King Edmund had admitted – with a slight bashfulness – that it had been a few weeks.

Least to say, Grace preferred it when their conversations were not focused on the terms of her imprisonment.

Apart from the brash words and straightforward tactics of the King, there was a gentleness she had not expected. It was there when they spoke of subjects softly under the filtered light of the leaves. It was apparent in the genuine look of the King's eye when he complimented her dancing. There was a glimmer of it in those same eyes whilst they bantered in the sweltering heat of the study.

It was the glimpses of this gentle demeanour continually pulled Grace off balance. Her opinion of the King Edmund slowly shifting every time she saw it. Could a man who looked such a way wholly be bad?

There was some darkness alongside the silver lining, to be sure. Grace did not doubt what King Edmund was capable of… but what if that was not who he was?

What if she had taken the one side she'd seen of him and condemned him for it?

If that was the case, Grace was interested in remedying her mistake. The tug of curiosity at her core becoming hard to ignore. She wanted to know more about the dark-haired King with bark walled eyes, and it was beginning to seem that no amount of information would satiate that feeling.

Grace sighed, "I suppose, then, it is best to stay the course. Good behaviour and all that. Just like we spoke about on the beach."

The look Lucy gave her was sympathetic, "Has there been any new information on the Wardrobe?"

"None," Sighed Grace, "Margrove's Uncle was supposed to return to him with stories but apparently all of his replies haven't mentioned a drop of it. It's like King Edmund has managed to interfere through the sheer will of thought."

"I think you'll find that it is not only thought my Brother works by," Lucy murmured.

Grace had feared as much, the ugly head of her indifference towards Lucy's brother rearing itself with a fury. She shoved it down, King Edmund had promised her clarity. Grace had to trust he'd kept to his word.

Then, Lucy whispered a blood chilling thought, "What happens if we can't find it?"

Grace cast a wide-eyed stare at her, "Pardon?"

"What happens if we can't find the Wardrobe?"

What would happen if they couldn't find the Wardrobe? Would Grace be stuck here? The uproar in her body fought against the very idea, battled against the thoughts it did not want to acknowledge out loud.

And yet…

There was a part which did not cry out. A part of her which had already considered this possibility. A part of her which had begun to accept it.

"I don't mean to overstep," Lucy began gently, "But have you given any thought to staying?"

"Staying?" Grace echoed emptily.

The thought was strange but tangible, an emotion which was mirrored equally in the alternative choice.

Grace could stay or Grace could go home.

One hand held the warmth of friends, of positions she held with honor and joy. Of a country – and a King – whose stories were yet to be uncovered.

The other was her world, her home. The life she'd endured in the past, fought against in the present and dreamed for the future.

Both plans sat in the palm of her hands. Equal weight and warmth between them, though both were flawed in different fractured ways.

Narnia was not Home and Home was not Narnia.

The more Grace weighed, the less she could tell the difference between the two, the only unique string tethering her to Earth being the strength she clung to since she'd first washed aboard the Splendour Hyaline.

But would it be enough to sustain her decision when she finally reached the Wardrobe?

The answer tumbled from her lips, "I don't know."