XLI
GRACE
Like the Dawn – The Oh Hellos
As the sun rose, so did the campsite. The rush to beat it's migration through the sky well and truly begun before Grace had even stirred. Her eyes opened groggily to the grey light of morning, sounds of clattering pots and scuttling footsteps making her shift deeper into her makeshift pillow.
Eventually Grace was roused enough to leave her sleeping bag, immediately using the tent wall to roll it into a compact cylinder. Already she felt heavy with the weight of a sleepless night, it sat on her eyelids with a dry burn that could not be wiped away. The night before had proven impossible for sleep.
It wasn't for lack of trying. Grace had tried everything from counting sheep to emptying her mind. Nothing made headway towards her goal. Every time she got close there would always be something, a rock in her back, a gentle tug of something at her abdomen, an unwanted memory she wished could be forgotten.
Grace must have moved her bedroll at least ten times in the span of an hour; turning it this angle and that, trying to sleep upside down with her head near the door – that only made things worse. She even tried to settle right next to the pole in the middle of the tent. It worked for a bit… until she rolled over and smacked her head into it.
Eventually her body settled at the rightmost wall. Whether it was from exhaustion or if the dirt was actually soft enough she did not know. She didn't question it, who was she to turn down sleep at last?
Through her itchy, sleep crusted eyes, Grace could see the bulk of their encampment sitting by the newly stoked campfire. Bowls of left over stew sitting in their frostbitten hands. Her stomach rumbled.
Unfortunately, that food wouldn't be hers until she'd packed up her things. Grace was grateful at least that there really was only two, her sleeping bag and her tent – her bag of personal items had been left with her saddle the afternoon before.
With a sigh of longing and irritation, Grace began to unpeg the loose stabilising ropes from the ground. She tried to follow the pattern she'd seen King Edmund follow the evening before but in reverse. It seemed to work well, until a pole slipped from the pointed middle of the dusky material and hit Grace square in the shoulder.
The noise she made was loud, followed by a string of cuss words and abuse to the offending object.
"You're supposed to take the pole out before you lower the strings."
Grace side eyed the Dryad who was laughing at her from a safe distance.
Lilis grinned at her friend, her teeth a brilliant smooth white against her dark crackled skin, "The material will fall inwards and make it easier to fold."
With a hesitant hand, Grace reached towards the ripple of velvet swept over the pole, she supposed it was too late to do it properly, the other stabilising slabs of wood had already toppled with the material and the whole tent was now a sad ripple on the dirt floor.
Instead, she chose to fold the material first, "Have you done this before?"
Lilis stepped forward to help, still harbouring a humorous smile upon her face, "I serve as extended staff for her Majesty, Queen Susan. This tent and I are old friends."
The knowledge made Grace sigh with frustrated longing, "Where were you when I was setting this thing up yesterday?"
Lilis laughed, "Did it give you trouble?"
"Endless amounts," Grace remarked, taking two corners in her hands and folding the purple velvet in half, "Casys looked like he was going to tear his hair out just watching me."
The Dryad followed her movements, "I'd help you tonight but I fear mine and my Sisters encampment is a few over."
Grace shook her head, meeting her corners again to another fold, "I wouldn't ask that of you. Besides, his Majesty, King Edmund has offered to help tonight."
"He has?" Lilis's green eyes lit in interest. Her thin hands froze mid fold as she asked, "How did you manage that?"
A grimace twisted on Grace's lips, "I think once he saw the outcome of my sad attempt, he felt pity for me."
"How sad," Lilis murmured, eyes still bright with an interest not spoken.
"You know," Grace wondered, "There is more than enough room in my tent if you wanted to share?" Perhaps then the King would not feel the need to place his so close.
Grace eyed the blue, silver speckled tent to the right of hers. It hadn't yet been deconstructed, but Grace had a feeling that the Just King had long abandoned it.
Lilis smiled kindly, "Thank you for the offer, but I must decline. My place is with my Sisters in the trees."
Grace nodded, "I understand."
The Dryad's expression then shifted knowingly, "It is not as if you'll be bereft of company in any case, with his Majesty, King Edmund's tent beside yours."
"To be honest, I made the offer to you in an attempt to scare him off," Grace admitted lowly, "Sorry."
"I'm not offended," Lilis laughed, "But I do not see the appeal. A Dryad's company is well received… but to welcome it over a King's? Unthinkable."
Grace folded the material once more, only noticing that Lilis had not continued when the material twisted. In a subtle attempt to regain the Dryad's attention, Grace fluttered the sheet in a whipping motion as if she were trying to straighten out any wrinkles in the fold.
It worked, Lilis hastily folded the last two together and followed the motion, after which they met in the middle where Grace took the remaining corners.
"It's not as if I favour any company over the other," Grace whispered as she rolled the velvet tightly, "It's the appearance of his favour that bothers me. Why on earth is he placing his tent so close to mine? Shouldn't he be off somewhere more important?"
"It's a campsite, there are no spots more important than the other… and as to your other point," Lilis looked unimpressed as she made a point on each twiglike finger, "You have been in constant close proximity over a two-week period, I'd imagine his Majesty will still require your assistance with paper work – thus he would need you close by, and lastly, you have no survival skills to speak of whatsoever."
Grace pointed a short wooden pole in the Dryad's direction, "That last one hurt."
Lilis sniffed, "Don't ask questions you don't wish for an answer to."
One by one the materials were slotted into the tent sack. When complete, Grace looked at the two lumps of soft material and sighed. This was to be her life; two whole weeks of strings, poles and material in endless succession of pitching and lowering.
Somewhere in her sulking, Lilis had begun to tow her towards a rock.
"Now, let me fix that hair," The Dryad muttered as she shoved the Daughter of Eve into a sitting position, "If you're going to be spending all of your time at King Edmund's side, you'd best look the part."
The weight and burn of little sleep did not dissipate as the day wore on, if anything it only served to heighten Grace's irritation.
She tried to appear untroubled as she sat atop the pristine back of Starlight. The Talking Beast was prattling on with Phillip as they walked, side by side. Which coincidentally, meant that King Edmunds leg often brushed against Grace's own through her dress.
There was the uncomfortable feeling of being watched that had not been there yesterday when Casys had taken the journey by her side. He seemed to have been given a better offer – or order – and now stood at the front of the line of jovial travellers.
In his place, the Just King had stepped forwards, his pace mirroring that of his predecessor's the day before. Phillip was determinedly muzzle to muzzle with Starlight, neither wavering more than a centimetre from their even race.
King Edmund did not speak. He sat simply upon his friends chestnut coat with a watchful mind. His eyes repeatedly scanned the crowd, always concerned that none seemed tired or injured as the party moved forward. The moment there was a lull, Grace was certain he would call for a break.
It wouldn't be so bad if those watchful eyes did not land on her so often. If his dark irises didn't hold more questions than answers as to the reasoning. The ceaseless flickers of the weight of his gaze were beginning to push her nerves past the boundary of return.
Sense told her the irritation was a symptom of something else. A restless night, the long day, her chafed legs upon the saddle, her sun scorched neck - she'd long since let her hair down from the careful braid Lilis had combed it into, but it was too late, the sun had already burned the skin.
"Can you please stop that," Grace grumbled after the eighth glance.
The King looked at her in surprise, "Stop what?"
Grace gritted her teeth, "Stop looking over here as if I'm going to fall to my death at any moment."
King Edmund's head slanted as he regarded her, "Well, considering you almost did yesterday, can you blame me?"
"It's not necessary considering I didn't reach the ground," Grace sniffed.
"Only because Casys caught you."
An annoyed huff of air blew Grace's lips forward, "Regardless, you sticking to me like Velcro is unnecessary. I'm sure you have more important things to do than babysit me."
"I do," The Just King replied impassively, "It just so happens that I serve those needs best in the middle of the party, where I can see everything."
Grace caught his eyes; wide, dark and honest in the glaring light of midday. Her neck twisted uncomfortably as she looked towards the back of the travelling line. It was admittedly at an equal distance from their position when compared to the front.
"Fine," Grace bristled with a short pat to Starlight's neck. The Talking Horse stopped her conversation with Phillip at once, one glistening eye drawn to her rider in question.
"Starlight do you think we could ride ahead? I have something to ask Casys."
"Wait-" King Edmund tried, the quiet word dying on his lips as the Talking Horse replied.
"I don't see why not. I'm sure there is far more adventure to be had at the front of the line," Starlight released a neigh of excitement, all too ready to bolt from Phillip's side.
The King didn't let them get more than a few steps before he and Phillip accompanied them again, "I'll come with you."
Grace groaned as his leg brushed against hers again, "I thought you needed to be in the middle of the line to perform your duties?"
"I could just as easily do that from the front, too."
The insistence broke Grace's poorly kept countenance, "So I was right, you are babysitting me."
"It's not babysitting," The Just King scowled.
"You have been at my side all morning – and no," Grace held up a finger when the King moved to argue, "That isn't what bothers me. It's the incessant amount of looks you are throwing my way. Why did you suspend my orders if you were just going continue surveillance?"
King Edmund rolled his eyes, "I'm not continuing surveillance."
"Then why are you watching me?"
"Did you ever stop to think I wasn't looking at you?" He returned snidely.
The response stopped Grace short, her mind replaying the irritation veiled memories of that morning. He had been looking at her… hadn't he? Regardless he'd still left the other half of her accusation unanswered.
"That still doesn't explain why you're sticking to my side," Grace muttered.
"Oh is that what Velcro is?" King Edmund wondered.
Grace glared through the narrowed slits of her eyelids, "You're avoiding the question."
King Edmund regarded her, his face void of the emotions circling in his bark brown irises, "I stick by your side for your own safety as well as my sanity."
"You did not seem to care much for either yesterday," Grace pointed out.
"Yesterday we were a short distance from Cair Paravel and any assistance," The Just King answered, "Today we most certainly are not."
Grace chewed her next words carefully, each turning over and dissolving on her tongue, "I thought you said that Narnia was only dangerous at night."
King Edmund's eyes turned skyward, "Anywhere that is unsafe during the night can be unsafe during the day."
A sardonic brow raised on Grace's forehead, "So… what? You're enlisting yourself as my protector?"
The words seemed to make the King uncomfortable. His dark eyes remaining firmly ahead as he adjusted his seat on the saddle, "Of sorts."
Grace mirrored the movement, her hands gripping the worn leather at the front of the saddle until her knuckles turned white, "I'm sure that's unnecessary. I can probably handle anything I can see."
It was the King's brow that arched wryly this time, "Oh? You and what training?"
"It doesn't take an idiot to know how to ride in the opposite direction of whatever means you harm."
"And if we're caught in an ambush on all sides?" King Edmund asked, his cheek muscles working overtime to keep a sardonic smile at bay, "What then?"
Grace eyed the bold cheek in his irises with irritation. He was staring at her openly now, awaiting her reply with bated breath – ready to laugh, no doubt. A sparkle of something interfered with her sight, the sun refracted on a jewel encrusted to the hilt of his dagger. Grace recognised it, for it was the same weapon he'd revealed the night before.
"I might steal your dagger," Grace replied loftily, "I suppose it would give me a better chance than my bare fists."
On instinct, the King pulled the dagger from his belt. He held the silver blade in the open air, the light of the winter sun giving it a staggering glow.
King Edmund admired it; from its trailing point all the way to the sparkling sapphire glued to the hilt. That same gaze shifted from iridescent sapphire to blue worn stone as he regarded her with a goading expression, "And how do you suppose to get your hands on this if I am not at your side?"
Damn, he had her there.
Or at least, he thought he did.
In a movement that was swift and unexpected, Grace lurched forward on Starlight's back, the movement startling the Talking Horse who protested loudly.
It was worth it for the warm leather binding which now sat comfortably in her hand. The rough edges of the sapphire cut against her palm as she admired the curved tip of the blade.
Grace smirked triumphantly to the King, "Like that."
King Edmund could only gawk at her nerve, mouth agape and hand frozen where he'd been holding the dagger before. It looked silly now, poised on nothing but the cool winter air, "How did you-"
"Because you got cocky," Grace replied simply.
The blade was turned this way and that in her careful fingers as Grace admired it further. The metal was clearly steel but it was like no metal she'd ever seen before. There was a kind of sparkly grit to it that was smooth to the touch and sparkled in the sunlight.
"I suppose I should have expected it," The King murmured thoughtfully. She knew he was watching her inspect the blade, however, this look was less irritating than its predecessors. If only because it was in admiration of her success.
When every aspect of the dagger had been inspected, Grace met his gaze, "It's beautiful."
"It was a gift," The Just King smiled fondly, "The Red Dwarves from the South Western Mountains offered it to me on a pilgrimage."
Grace's finger ran softly over the sharpened edge of the sparkling metal, "The craftsmanship is incredible."
"A Red Dwarf by the name of Grookharlin forged it," The King commented, "It's made with a mixture of steel and a rare variation of silver. When the two are combined in the forge, the silver separates into the flecks you can see."
Grace tilted the blade, watching as the silver flecks danced across it, "How interesting."
The King hummed in agreement, "It's quite a difficult process as the metals are dependent on the correct heat. I'm ashamed to admit that I've bungled it up a few times and wasted materials."
This perked Grace's interest from the blade, "You can work with a forge?"
"Not well," The Just King admitted, "But I know how to smelt ores and shape them, yes."
Grace gaped at the King in wonder. The piece of information he'd offered so captivating that she nearly dropped the blade. Her hand tightened on the leather grip as she looked between it and the King.
He returned her stare evenly, "Does it surprise you that I have a hobby?"
"It does considering how busy you are," Grace replied.
King Edmund's lips curved into a ghosted smile, "I was not always, you know."
His eyes returned to the blade with a fond sheen. The brown had warmed to match the sun lit fur of a bear, some emotion shifting deep beneath the dark strands that Grace could not decipher.
It didn't feel right to hold on to such a precious keepsake, and so Grace offered the hilt of the blade in the space between them, taking care not to cut herself with the sharp edges as she did.
The King declined, "Keep it for now. I'm sure we'd all feel better if you had something to defend us with."
Grace shared his smile, turning the blade over again in her fingertips, "I don't know how to wield it."
"Perhaps when we get to camp I'll show you how."
Her smile caught on a wry thought, "Is that before or after you help me set up my tent?"
The King's eyes widened as if he'd forgotten about the agreement they'd made under the hallowed stars of the night before, "Perhaps after. We'll stop to make camp in an hour or so."
Grace blanched as she turned to look up at the sun. The movement was immediately regretted for the blinding light that attacked her eyes. She threw a hand over them and gasped, desperately trying to rub away the burn.
The King chuckled, "What did you do that for?"
Grace ignored the question, "It can't be that late yet, can it? The sun sets in the West and it hasn't reached the other side of the Party yet."
King Edmund glanced back at the sky briefly, "It's well into the afternoon, Grace."
It was all she could do to stare at him, her mind running over Lucy's instruction at speed. It didn't make sense, the sun was still upon her back and Lucy had made it clear that meant it was still morning. It didn't feel like more than a few hours had passed since their departure, though, Grace would admit it felt like longer due to the time spent travelling in silence with the King.
The instructions relisted themselves in her mind. The sun rises in the East and will sit behind you in the morning. It will move across the sky until it sets in the West – the direction in which they were travelling. Except, the sun was not before them. In fact, the sun was behind them. It followed the same line it did, now further down in the sky than it would be in midday.
Due to the winter season, the sun's path travelled slightly higher in the sky than it usually would. It's progression leaning towards the Northern Reaches of Narnia as it crept across the sky. If they were travelling to the North, it would be slightly on their faces. So by process of elimination…
South, they were heading south.
"Why are we going south?" Grace asked, a slight accusatory tone passing her better judgement.
King Edmund looked like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't, "We're heading to the next campsite."
"But we're deterring from the path heading West? Is there something blocking our way that we're travelling around?" Grace questioned.
"No," The Just King edged, "This is simply the path we follow."
Grace felt an understanding click into place, "Is this why you're always late back?"
"I beg your pardon?" The King spluttered.
"Your brother told me that you are often late back from your trips West," Grace accused, "Is this why?"
The Just King grumbled something incoherent, though Grace did catch the words 'Pete' and 'observant arse'.
"The High King speaks truly," He settled finally, "Though the trail is not the reason for my delay."
"If you're travelling in a direction square to the route you should, I would say it probably is the reason for your delay," Grace argued.
If there was any kindness left in King Edmund's expression it was now buried deep beneath the layers of irritation, "Regardless, it is the path we are taking."
"Why?"
"That is my business and not yours."
Grace's brow furrowed, "If that is the case then I don't see why I should follow you off the trail."
"Grace," The King's eyes closed tiredly, "Please don't make this difficult. I have an important matter to conclude. We'll continue straight West tomorrow."
An important matter? Grace leaned forward on the leather saddle, "What important matter?"
King Edmund looked at her, his dark eyes barely discernible from the thick lashes on his narrowed lids. He didn't say a word and he didn't need to. His whole demeanour shifting unpleasantly into a mirror of the man she'd first met months ago.
Grace leaned away, her line of questioning deterred by the King's abhorrence of the subject but the thoughts did not cease. It was a distraction that Grace delved into with a curiosity that could not be matched. For what could possibly be so important, so secretive and at the same time so wretched to him?
The two did not say another word as they continued on. Every now and then Starlight or Phillip would attempt to bring them into their conversations, to no avail. The King had firmly stuck himself into melancholy as the Daughter of Eve stared after him with burning curiosity.
When the tendrils of purple and red weaved themselves into the blue skies, the party stopped. All actions mirrored the night before, this time with Grace taking her dusty purple velvet all the way to the edges of the encampment – and hopefully away from King Edmund. She deposited the material. Choosing to finish her part of the word before erecting her tent and eating.
Today, she'd been placed on fire duty – specifically picking up fallen twigs and leaves for kindling. The task was pensive and allowed her far more time to think than she should be allowed. She supposed that chosen silence was better than that which was imposed, the tense air of the afternoon between her and the King had left Grace feeling on edge.
She could feel the enormity of the secret, just beyond the edges of her toes. It was tantalising and deep – there was no chance of it being something small, not with the reaction it elicited from the Just King.
When she'd finished, the twigs were deposited unceremoniously beside a kind Badger. He regarded her with a smile, commenting on the number of twigs she'd assembled with glee, "We'll have a fire through the night at this rate! All the better for I truly hate the cold."
Grace smiled warmly to the Narnian, though she found herself unable to match his enthusiasm.
She returned to the edge of camp, feet dragging through the dirt at the thought of having to set up the purple mass on her own. There was little hope in her mind that King Edmund would assist now, not with the chance that she'd ask him more about the important matter.
When she'd walked smack dab into a wall of velvet, Grace balked. Her hands running over the familiar colour in wonder. It was taller than her tent yesterday, though she supposed that might be as it was set up properly. She stepped back to admire the work, hands testing the stabilizing rope which plucked with the twang of a taut pull.
Someone had set up her tent for her.
Grace looked about for the party but none stepped forward to claim the prize of her gratefulness.
She supposed then, it should be obvious who it was by the equal and perfect stance of the midnight blue tent to its right. It sat still, the silver speckled velvet billowing softly with the beginnings of the night's breeze. It was perfect, almost too perfect aside her own, the colours complimenting well under the darkening sky.
Should she thank him? A hesitant foot itched towards the billowing navy on the shadowed grass.
Immediately, she thought better of it. Haunting images of the King's detest of her etched into the underside of her eyelids. Each blink was a reminder that he did not want to see her right now.
Her tent was further proof of that. Instead of choosing to wait for her and set it up together, King Edmund had chosen to set it up himself and let her be. His dagger set heavily on her leather belt, the weight of it making her feet feel as though they were sinking into the ground.
Grace supposed he would not be teaching her how to wield that tonight either.
There was nothing to be done then. The resolution was helpful at least in unsticking her feet from the ground, but she did not head in the direction of the fire and food. Now Grace felt an exhaustion unlike anything before. The weight of the day and a night of restless sleep hanging off her bones like mischievous pixies.
Dazed and depleted, Grace shuffled slowly through the opening of her tent. Only slightly pleased to find that her sleeping bag and personal items had already been placed inside.
She unrolled the bag and shuffled into it, shoes and all, and as soon as her head hit the makeshift pillow Grace fell into a deep sleep.
It never occurred to her to check why the dirt felt so soft and inviting on this side of the tent, even after its position had moved.