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WALKING IN THE WIND
iv. A DOVE'S LIBERATION

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  MANY WYSTERIANS WOULD AGREE that the princess's handmaid was the most popular servant in the castle. Her name drifted through the castle like the breeze. With a well-distinguished father and such a close relationship with the princess, it was impossible for the Wysterians to not know of Hope.

  Now, this was an unprecedented occurrence for servants of any kind. Most knew Hope's name and not the names of King David's Court. The fame of a mere servant girl was unprecedented, yet justifiable. She was liked for her benevolent spirit, her bright personality, and incidentally, her access to many of the royal family's secrets.

  Now, don't get her wrong. Hope didn't actively spread the royal family's secrets. She was a loyal girl, not to mention an obedient servant who knew her place. However, sometimes, if there was certain information that would impact the servants and their responsibilities, Hope would tip them off in advance before they'd be informed of such occasions. This included things like upcoming balls, political disputes, or honored guests. It was for everyone's benefit, including the royal family's. After all, what good would the servants be if they weren't always on top of things?

  Speaking of honored guests, the Just King was all the servants talked about these days.

  "I heard he gets his name because of his great council and judgment."

  "I think King Edmund and Princess Odette make a sweet couple!"

  "I wish I was a princess. Maybe then he'd fall in love with me instead!"

  As mentioned before, whenever Princess Odette was busy and didn't require Hope's assistance, the lady-in-waiting used her downtime to aid fellow servants. While Odette was at a ball gown fitting for her birthday celebration next month, Hope was spending her morning aiding a few of her friends in their domestic duties.

  The morning was young, only a few minutes past ten. A small group of servants was gathered to clean the dining hall. The strong smell of soap flooded their nostrils, the suds dancing across the polished floors. The lady-in-waiting could be found wiping down the windows as she listened to the chatter of her friends.

  "Oh, Hope, won't you tell us more about King Edmund? He seems so dreamy!" a servant chirped. She was young, perhaps 10-years-old. Her name was Anastasia.

  Hope feared she would never escape the constant gossip concerning the Narnian King. Edmund was all Odette ever talked about, and now, the servants seemed to have fallen under his spell, too. Honestly, Hope didn't understand what all the fuss was over. Maybe that was because she and the king were friends now.

  Well, she wasn't confident that they were friends, but considered him one. Hey, Hope was a friendly person! She would befriend a horse if she could.

  After all, Hope did sorta tell him her life story a few days ago despite hardly knowing him. She had no idea why she did that so openly, but in a way, Edmund was the kind of person she felt like she could trust.

  Humming, Hope declared, "He's... eccentric."

  "Can't you tell us anything else?" Anastasia implored.

  "Is he nice?"

  "Of course, he's nice, Timothée," Anastasia immediately argued. "He's a king!"

  "Just because he's a king doesn't mean he's nice, you know," Timothée retorted. He was around the same age as Anastasia. "Take King David, for example. He's a big—"

  "Kids, kids," interrupted Hope with a laugh. She shook her head. "I suppose he's nice. He's funny, too. Honestly, I've never heard of a royal of Edmund's nature."

  Another servant named Esme gasped. She was the oldest out of everyone in the room, standing in her late twenties. "You're on a first-name basis with the Just King?" she eagerly interrogated.

  Before Hope could explain herself, Timothée snickered, "Maybe they're secretly in love!"

  "That's so cute!" Anastasia squealed.

  Hope rolled her eyes at the three. "No, we're not, and no, it's not!" she insisted. "Have you all forgotten why he's here in the first place?"

  Timothée rolled his eyes, grumbling, "To marry Princess Odette."

  A sly smirk engulfed Anastasia's face, revealing two missing teeth. "You're only jealous 'cause you can't marry the princess yourself!"

  "And you can't marry King Edmund either!"

  "Shut up!"

  "What are you going to do? Write about me in your diary? It's already filled to the brim with entries about the Just King!"

  "I told you to stop reading my diary!"

  Hope and Esme's giggles filled the empty spaces between their bickering. The lady-in-waiting enjoyed spending time with the children of the castle. They were always so lively, energetic. They certainly kept her on her toes.

  Hope glanced back at Esme and lightly heeded, "Those two are going to kill each other someday."

  Esme began to reply, only for something to capture her attention. Her eyes shifted to the side as she paused. "Hm, Hope, dear, I believe you're being summoned by the king," she notified.

  Hope's eyebrows knitted together as her mind wandered to Odette's father. What could King David possibly want with her—Oh? It wasn't until Hope followed Esme's gaze when she realized she was thinking of the wrong king.

  King Edmund stood at the entrance of the dining hall, almost as if waiting for someone. When he finally caught Hope's attention, Edmund waved her over. Was he waiting for her? That boy became stranger and stranger by the day.

  Sighing, Hope placed her rag aside and joined the Narnian. She wondered if perhaps he was in search of the princess. That was the only thing she could think of that could be of any interest to the Just King.

  As she curtseyed, Edmund greeted, "Good morning, dove. Walk with me?"

  Although it seemed like he asked her a question, he didn't wait for her response. He merely walked away, leaving Hope to scurry after him.

  "Huh? Hey!" she called, hurrying to his side. "What... What did you just call me?"

  Once again, that stupid smile overtook his face. It wasn't sweet or innocent, nor was it one of sheer amusement. It wasn't the sort of half-assed smile you offer someone in passing either. It was cheeky, the kind you wear after teasing someone or saying something clever, like a quick-witted comeback. Edmund always wore that stupid smile, and the worst part was that it was quite contagious.

  "Did you just call me "dove"?" added Hope, mystified. Her eyebrows were pinched together, bringing forth faint wrinkles.

  "Well, you like fairytales, don't you? Fairytales are all about love, doves symbolize love," he lazily explained. "It's a nickname. I think it suits you, yeah?"

  Hope peered up at him, bewildered. "I... What?"

  "A nickname is—"

  "No, no, I know what a nickname is," interrupted Hope. She shook her head, deciding she wouldn't argue with his questionable antics. "Whatever. You know, you can't just pull me away from my duties because you're bored."

  Edmund chuckled, "And here I was thinking I'd just saved my friend from her tedious chores."

  Hope didn't realize it at first, but she smiled at how he called her his friend.

  As they strolled throughout the castle, he continued, "You know, the last I checked, you're supposed to eagerly agree to everything I ask you to do." Edmund couldn't help but notice the surprised glances of the servants they passed, but he didn't think much of it.

  Her tone was light and friendly as she queried, "Are you honestly taking advantage of my loyalty to Odette? You're despicable, Your M—Edmund." Edmund was pleased to hear her call him by his name.

  "Have you noticed your words are so cruel for someone who's smiling so big?"

  Hope shook her head as they stepped outside. An endless sea of blue swept across the heavens. There wasn't a cloud in sight, only chirping birds, a gentle breeze, and the shining sun coexisted to confirm the hour. The training grounds were in the near distance. When Hope noticed the guards sparring, she realized she hadn't visited her father's former troops in a long time. She supposed it would do her some good to say hello to them sometime soon.

  "Where exactly are we going?" wondered Hope as she followed the Just King.

  "I'm so glad you asked, dove," he mused.

  Under her breath, she mumbled, "I have a feeling that's not going away anytime soon."

  She glanced back at Edmund, taking in his appearance under the natural lighting. His raven hair fell over his forehead messily, yet it looked intentional at the same time. A ring of gold circled his brown irises under direct sunlight and his few freckles seemed darker than before. Hope decided he was quite handsome.

  He snickered at her side-comment before revealing, "I've been thinking about what you said a few days ago."

  Immediately, Hope cringed. "Oh, you mean when I accidentally spilled my life story to a stranger?"

  "Precisely!" he bantered. He felt a strange sense of accomplishment every time he was able to make her smile or laugh. It was like a game to him, and he was winning. "Do you recall mentioning how you haven't had much time to dabble with swords in the past few years?"

  Hope narrowed her eyes at him. "...Depends on why you're asking." Though she was riddled with confusion and hesitance, Edmund noticed how she smiled and waved at a few troops. He figured they must've been friends of her father's.

  Edmund approached a small stand in the grass that held some swords. They shined under the morning sunlight, leading the Just King to believe they were recently cleaned and polished. As he grabbed one and offered it to Hope, he questioned, "You know your way around a sword, don't you?" When she stared at it as though it was an alien, Edmund teased, "It won't bite you, you know."

  "I haven't touched one of those things in two years," Hope admitted. "What if I stab my eye out?"

  "Then, it'd make an interesting story at parties," he joked, "or perhaps a wicked scar."

  "Yes, and then I'll get confused for a monster and be banished from Wysteria," she remarked. She shook her head, folding her arms over her chest. "What if I hurt you?"

  "I'm the finest swordsman in Narnia," he pointed out. "I'll be alright, dove."

  Hope wouldn't budge. "What if I get in trouble for being out here—?"

  "You won't," promised Edmund. "Have you forgotten who I am?"

  "Are you always this humble?"

  "You really know how to make a man blush," he quipped with a laugh. "Come on, just spar with me one time. Your story sparked my interest the other day, and I'd like to know if I can bring you back to Narnia and stick you in our army. You're rather small, you'd be perfect to put in a canon."

  Although she snorted, she declined, "You're mad."

  Something Hope was about to discover about Edmund was that he enjoyed a good challenge. Besides, he was still adamant about getting to know her. After hearing that someone as tiny and sweet as Hope knew a thing or two about combat, war, and swordsmanship, it was all Edmund could think about. He wanted to put her to the test.

  "Well, you and I both know you're quite the obedient little servant, so you can either learn how to say no or you can take this sword and spar with me," challenged Edmund.

  Hope stared at the blade for a moment, surprised. He was right: she was loyal, far too nice, and terrible at saying "No." How could he read her like a book after only knowing her for a week? Nonetheless, something Edmund was about to discover about Hope was that she was a lot smarter and stronger than she looked.

  A little huff of air fled her nose as she took the sword and grumbled, "You're really stubborn."

  A pleased grin pulled at his lips. "I get that a lot," he bantered. He withdrew a sword of his choosing. It was a bit larger than Hope's and presumably heavier.

  "That wasn't a compliment."

  "Oh, so now the dove has insults?"

  She scrunched up at her nose in annoyance, failing to suppress a smile. He thought the sight was admittedly adorable. And just when he thought she would reply with something clever, he was thrown by her swinging her weapon with more force than he expected.

  Edmund blocked her blade with his. His eyes traveled up and down, studying her stance. "Your form isn't as terrible as I expected!"

  She lightly scoffed as they twisted their bodies, their swords clashing together. "Isn't the first rule of combat to never underestimate your opponent?" she queried.

  "No, I believe the first rule is don't lose!"

  Hope had never witnessed true magic in action before, but something was surging through her that she hadn't felt in a long time. As their swords clashed and clattered together, her heart rate picked up and a newfound wave of confidence spilled from her being. The more they sparred, the stronger she felt. No, this wasn't magic, it was adrenaline.

  "Shouldn't we be wearing armor?" Hope called over their colliding swords and heavy breaths.

  "Why? I don't see a threat anywhere, do you?"

  "Oh, you're going to regret that!"

  This would be the part where she'd say swordplay was like riding a bicycle if she knew what that was. Sure, she was a little rusty, but she remembered every technique she needed to know. It had been two years since Hope last picked up a sword. She remembered that day well because it was the same day she had properly defeated her father in a "duel" without him purposely going easy on her. It was also the last time she saw him before he died overseas.

  Whether she won or lost, Hope always felt a little bit stronger than before each time she sparred with someone. That was the magic of doing something she loved, she supposed.

  Edmund groaned when she maneuvered her sword to reflect the sunlight in his eyes. "That's cheating!"

  "You're just mad because you didn't come up with it first!"

  Hope wondered why Edmund put her up to this. She was supposed to be a quiet servant who cleaned and followed the princess around, not galivanting with the Wysterian troops and the King of Narnia. It felt so wrong, but at the same time, it felt so right.

  Their laughter intertwined across the estate. Some troops passing by recognized Hope and didn't think much of her being there. Others were shocked to see that a servant was sparring with the Just King. It was quite a sight. Although Edmund was obviously winning (come on, he was being serious when he said was the finest swordsman in Narnia!), he was thoroughly enjoying himself.

  That was when he noticed it: Hope was seconds away from tripping over the hem of her dress. He always thought dresses were terrible fashion choices when it came to combat, but his sisters disagreed with him every time. As a last-minute resort, Edmund used his free hand to grab onto Hope to steady her, only to be pulled onto the ground with her. Their swords fell onto the ground beside them as their laughter became replaced with groans.

  Edmund cringed at the feeling of his head colliding with the ground. He could almost hear Susan's voice in the back of his head pester him, "Didn't she say to put on armor, you dingus?" Yeah, yeah, whatever, Su.

  He peered back at Hope. "Are you alright—?"

  But his question fell short when he realized Hope was still uncontrollably laughing. He was astonished. This tiny, fragile girl had just fallen onto the ground and hit her head, and she was laughing? How strange!

  "Am I alright?" she retorted. "That's the second time this exact incident has happened! I think I'm cursed!"

  Despite her words, her laughter resumed. For a moment, Edmund worried she hit her head too hard, but that was when she realized it. She hadn't lost her mind, nor was she cursed. She was just... happy. She was living in the moment. It was like everything she'd kept inside for the past few years was coming out, only it wasn't a negative kind of release. No, Hope felt a certain tension she had ignored for so long begin to fade.

  Hope felt liberated.