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WALKING IN THE WIND
vii. KINGS AND QUEENS OF OLD

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  THE LAMENT OF DEATH cast a shadow over the group. Death was no stranger to any person standing there, and yet, no one spoke for a long moment. In their silence, the last breaths of the fallen filled the air.

  Even the Wysterians felt anxious. To think a bloody war had occurred there, just beneath their feet... Having lost both of her parents and growing up in a war-struck kingdom, Hope had long since acknowledged death as a customary aspect of life. But it had been a long year and some days since Hope last lived here, with the memories of her losses, and now that she was back, every memory felt more raw than they once did.

  What kind of war was fought here? Who was lost? Who suffered unnecessarily? Hope grimaced at the thought.

  The group figured that if they were about to embark on a lengthy journey, it would benefit them to change out of their London attire. Hope and Odette's clothes were torn from the accident, whereas the Pevensies' clothes were sopping with seawater. The boys and girls split to get dressed, with Hope and Odette borrowing clothes from the Pevensie sisters' chests.

  Hope was lucky she was only a few inches taller than Susan. Her emerald dress was just barely long enough for her. As she combed her fingers through her knotted hair, she spared Odette a glance, surprised to find that she hadn't changed yet. The blonde was unmoving, gazing at the gold and cream-colored dress blankly.

  As Susan braided her sister's hair, Hope said, "It's not going to bite you, you know."

  Odette's head snapped forward. "Hm? Did you say something?"

  It was Hope's turn to stare. This wasn't normal for the blonde, getting distracted inside her head. She was always so focused on what she needed to do, checking off boxes, even if it was something as trivial as putting on clothes.

  "Why aren't you changing?"

  "I... was getting to that." Odette began to lift her shirt, only to immediately wince. It was a subtle reaction, one that would've gone unnoticed had no one been paying attention.

  But Hope had been her handmaid and best friend for what seemed like their entire lives. Vigilantly, she demanded, "Lift your shirt."

  Lucy's wide eyes flitted toward them as the air seemed to thicken. A worry line furrowed between her eyebrows. "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing," said Odette.

  "Odette," Hope repeated, more firmly than before. "Lift your shirt."

  Odette quietly argued with her through her eyes alone, but there was no possibility for the conversation to be dropped now. If it wasn't Hope, then it would be Lucy and Susan on her tail. Finally, Odette's shoulders stooped. She whispered, "I can't."

  Odette failed to back away as Hope marched toward her. Despite the instant worry fueling her, she was careful in taking the end of Odette's shirt and lifting it halfway to reveal a deep purple bruise blanketed over her ribs. It consumed her entire left side, almost like a dark cloud.

  Hope gasped. "Lion's mane, Ode..."

  Odette whimpered, "Is it as bad as it feels? I-I didn't want anyone to worry—"

  "Odette, I worry about you every time you so much as blink," Hope clipped. "I might be furious with you, but I don't want you dead. Is this from the accident?"

  Susan came closer to inspect the bruise. She was less vocal than the others, but her pursed lip said everything about the worried thoughts darting through her head. Gingerly, she traced the purple clouds with a finger, then declared, "Her ribs are broken."

  Hope nodded. "I suspected the same, but I wasn't sure."

  "I've seen my fair share of broken ribs in my day," Susan said. "She shouldn't have been traveling as much as she has without adequate rest, at the very least."

  Hurriedly, Lucy unbottled a small vial that had been strapped to her side. "Drink this!" she insisted. She shoved it toward Odette's face. "Go on, make haste!"

  Hope held out her hand, blocking Odette from taking it. "What's that?"

  "Fire-flower juice," Lucy insisted. "It was a gift from Father Christmas a lifetime ago. Please drink it, princess. You'll feel better in no time, I promise!"

  Sheepish, Odette asked, "Is all of this necessary?"

  In another life, Odette was used to this, on the contrary. She was used to being fluffed and powdered and polished by strangers she'd never even seen before. But her year in London had changed her, too. In London, she was more determined to take care of herself, to act on her own, make choices on her own. No one took care of her—not like that. It was only her and Hope in whatever shabby building they called home at the time.

  "You've never even broken a nail," Hope argued. "Of course, it's necessary. You should've said something earlier. We've been hiking all day, you could've made it worse!"

  "Do you have any other injuries?" Susan joined. "The juice will take all of that away."

  Odette guarded her ribcage, but her eyes dropped. Scratches and scrapes littered her body. She didn't need to see them to know it. But still, Odette shook her head. "I'm alright, really—"

  "Let me correct myself," Susan said, this time with a cooler edge that she was famous for during her reign. She took the vial from her little sister and drew closer to the blonde. "You're going to drink this juice, and you're not going to complain. I have no desire to see a princess such as yourself in unnecessary pain, not when there's something that can be done about it. You may be alright with suffering on your own, but it will only cause the rest of us to suffer, too."

  Odette's brows scrunched together. "Why would you—?"

  "Because we care for you very much," Susan said. "Now, open your mouth so can continue the day knowing you're alright."

  Finally, Odette sighed and opened her mouth, allowing the Gentle Queen to spill a few drops of the fire-flower onto her tongue. Later, Hope would learn that Susan used this technique with her stubborn brothers often throughout wartime. Always so eager to put their worries aside for the sake of others. The only weapon stronger than selflessness was guilt, as Susan quickly learned.

  In a matter of seconds, the bruise on Odette's ribs, not to mention the abrasions and other injuries they didn't know of, faded away. Her skin brightened once again, except for the blush dusting Odette's cheeks. A single sigh of relief from the princess was enough to confirm that the juice worked.

  "Thank you," Odette whispered. "For caring."

  Susan only offered her a tame smile. "It's as easy as breathing."

  Hope glanced between them, puzzled, then cleared her throat. "Thank you, Lucy. That was generous of you."

  "Oh, please," Lucy said as she reclaimed her fire-flower juice. "You should use it, too."

  Hope shook her head. "I landed more safely than my princess did. I got lucky. Save it for someone who needs it."

  Lucy seemed hesitant at first, but she decided to trust the handmaid's word. Susan stepped away, ushering her sister to follow. "We'll give you two the room," Susan said. "Meet us outside, alright?"

  With that, the two sisters left. Unfortunately, they didn't take the tension with them.

  As Hope helped pull the dress over the princess's head, she scolded, "I can't believe you thought you could keep that from me. Honestly, how were you even keeping up this whole time?"

  "We had more important matters to tackle at the time." Odette tossed her hair over her shoulders, dusting the skirt of her dress off with a little cough. The color of the fabric brought out the honey accents of her skin. Despite the darkness of the underground, the fabric seemed to glimmer.

  "Look at me," Hope hissed. She grabbed her arm, forcing her to make eye contact. "Nothing is more important to me than you, handmaid or not."

  "You're being dramatic," argued Odette, but she didn't pull away. "You can't seriously believe this is the first time you've seen me stumble. You're acting like this is the first time I've ever kept a secret from you."

  Hope faltered. "What? What secrets?"

  "I know you're naïve, but don't feign cluelessness. It doesn't suit you." Odette jerked her arm back, moving to twist her hair into a braid. "It's always been irrelevant matters—not big ones, like the dreams I was having. You know, like how I'm feeling or something along those lines. It's not about you, Hope. It wasn't supposed to be."

  Was that even possible? It was in her job description to know everything about Princess Odette. From the hour she preferred to wake, to her favorite breakfast items, to what kind of tea she enjoyed most, to which foot she stepped with first when walking down a flight of stairs. Everything in Hope's life was about the princess.

  "I really don't know what you're talking about," Hope admitted. She took a deep breath, but her lungs seemed so weak in that moment. "I... How is that even possible? How have I spent my entire life under your roof, and there are... there are more secrets you've been keeping from me than I thought?"

  Odette huffed. "How are you making this about yourself?" 

  "You don't understand, Odette," Hope argued. "I am nothing without you. I know everything about you. Or... Or I thought I did—"

  "And have you ever thought about how that makes me feel?" Odette snapped. "Have you ever once considered what it's like living a life that isn't only for you? My life isn't my own. It's my father's, my mother's, my handmaid's, my kingdom's. I do not exist for myself. I exist for the benefit of everyone else, whether it's this kingdom or the next. Can you blame me for wanting to have something to myself? Just one bloody thing? I'm not as weak as everyone thinks I am—"

  "I never said that—"

  "Then why are you watching me like I'm going to shatter if you blink?"

  "Because what if you do?" Hope remarked. "What do I do then?"

  "What about me, Hope?" Odette argued. "Why does the aftermath of my existence matter to everyone so much more than the flutter of my beating heart? I am not weak, regardless of what my parents trained the kingdoms and its people to believe. I only wish to be acknowledged as... as more. More than the painting they've constructed for all of you."

  Hope deflated. She thought about what she wanted to say, what she wanted to hear. But all she could muster was, "It feels rotten being lied to."

  "It doesn't feel so great having no idea who you are either," Odette matched. "Don't you see why I preferred London all this time now? Don't you get it? I didn't have to be anyone there. I could just be... the bloody secretary that no one expected anything from besides answering phone calls!"

  "B-But that isn't who you are," Hope said. "You're Odette."

  "I don't even know what that means!" Odette yelled. "And I know you don't either because our identities have been entwined for years! I am sorry, Hope, that I am a liar. But I am not sorry for learning how to breathe on my own and preferring that to the life we had in Wysteria. It might not have had castles or shiny things or parents that loved me, but it was my life. I thought... I really thought..."

  "What?"

  "I really thought you would get it, too," Odette muttered. "It's clear to me that you don't." She stepped past the handmaid, their shoulders brushing together. "I worry that we've outgrown each other."

  Hope watched her, but the princess wouldn't turn to face her. Her chest tightened. Her voice came out too frail for comfort. "...Have we?"

  There came a pause. Even their breaths seemed too boisterous for that shallow space, like one wrong sigh could bring the ceiling crashing down on them. "As soon as I figure out who I am..." Odette mumbled. "As soon as you figure out who you are... then we'll know." She didn't bother clarifying herself. She simply sniffled, cleared her throat, and lifted her head before exiting the treasure chamber.

  Hope lingered in the darkness for a minute. That wasn't what she was expecting after everything she'd witnessed that day. It didn't make sense to her. Fighting with Odette, that is. Fighting with Odette seemed wrong. Of course, they fought in the past, the same way sisters did. But this was different. This held weight, gravity that even Hope struggled to stand against.

  She knew Odette felt isolated, suffocated by her life. She knew Odette wanted to do more for her kingdom, more than anyone. She cared for Wysteria so much that she was willing to marry anyone to save it. Of course, Hope knew that. How many times had Odette said before that men were only useful when it came to signing papers and swinging swords? They lacked the intellect and compassion women had. Hope knew this about Odette and often agreed with her.

  But the idea of Odette holding all of this time, of Odette feeling like a stranger to herself and the people around her... It brought on a sickness that Hope had never felt before. She was furious with Odette. She was supposed to be completely irate with the girl. Odette had lied. Odette had used the handmaid. Odette had called her crazy, made her feel small, even disregarded her feelings at times. Hope was supposed to feel angry, but instead, she felt hollow.

  When Hope emerged from the treasure chamber, she was relieved to find that everyone wasn't waiting directly outside for her. Perhaps the Pevensies had heard their argument. They were busily chatting, debating plans and directions to take to find civilization. Susan eventually stepped away to speak with Odette. Hope didn't move from where she stood, however. She merely watched Odette, more confused than anything, in silence. She was so distracted by this flurry of conflict inside her that she almost didn't notice Edmund break away from the others to greet her.

  "Do girls always take that long to get dressed, or is it just you?"

  Hope could hardly smile. "Please tell me you didn't hear us arguing down there."

  Edmund paused. "Should I lie to you?"

  "Will it make me feel better?"

  "Mm, probably not."

  "Then, no thanks," Hope mumbled. "Thanks for asking."

  "That's what I'm here for," Edmund lightly said. He studied her profile, brown eyes filling with concern. "You okay?"

  "I'm... confused," Hope confessed. The afternoon sun gleamed over them. Her hair lightened beneath it. "I don't know why I'm not as angry anymore. Except I am angry. I know I'm angry. But I'm not. I'm almost... sort of sad. But I don't... really know which one I feel more."

  Edmund squeezed her shoulder, drawing a shape with his thumb as he toyed with a strand of her hair. "Want my advice?"

  "The Just King is asking me if I want his advice?" Hope remarked. "Mm, no, I'm alright. I think I'll ask a crow or something instead. Or maybe I'll ask for directions for somewhere to take a nap. Aslan knows I need one." She felt a little better when she heard him laugh. The tension in her bones slipped at the warm sound.

  "Give her time to think about it. About everything," Edmund advised. "You can't force people to listen, but you can get their attention. You've done that already. A few times, actually. And give yourself time to think, too. You've been through a great deal. The answers won't reveal themselves to the impatient. Time has a gift for erosion, but you must wait to reap its rewards."

  Hope slowly nodded. "I hate admitting when men are right," she grumbled. "And I hate waiting."

  "Patience, dove. Patience," Edmund encouraged. She smiled at the nickname. It'd been so long since she'd been called that. "Hey, I know what'll make you feel better. And before you ask, no, it's not a nap. I got you something."

  Hope grimaced. "Should I be afraid? Your surprises give me anxiety."

  Edmund chuckled. "You love them." He stepped back and retrieved an object resting against a fallen piece of debris. It was a small belt with a mighty sword strapped to it.

  "You want to give me that?" Hope inquired with wide eyes. He didn't respond, only shoving it into her hands. "What if I... stab someone with it or something?"

  "That's sort of the point, darling."

  "You know, I don't appreciate the sass."

  "If you didn't, you'd wipe that grin off your face."

  She faltered, her smile only growing. How did he always manage to make her feel better without really trying, even after all of these years?

  She wished she could even begin to understand the spell Edmund Pevensie seemed to have her under.

○ ○ ○

  Hope didn't want to be mean, but she wasn't sure why they were all trusting Peter to lead them to civilization. He was just about as clueless as everyone else. Cair Paravel had been their only hope, and it was completely demolished. Narnia was already vastly different from how they remembered it. Where exactly were they going to go now? She had no idea, and she had the faintest inkling that Peter didn't know either.

  It was obvious everyone was pretending that the tension between Hope and Odette wasn't there. For that, Hope was thankful. She didn't wish to discuss it any more than she needed to at this point. She was growing weary of arguing with the princess anyway. Edmund was right. Give it time.

  They made their descent from the ruins, returning to the beach where the Eastern Seas waved at them. There was quiet chatter between the Pevensies as they discussed where they should go, but Hope wasn't paying much attention. She merely took in the world around her in silence, thinking about what Odette meant earlier when she said Narnia "felt different."

  She supposed she was right. She'd never heard Narnia so quiet before.

  She'd also never seen two men adorned in shiny metal armor standing in a small wooden boat threatening to drown someone before either.

  Hope gasped. "Um, Your Majesties?"

  The Pevensies paused, not because of her interruption, but because they were equally as surprised that Hope wasn't immediately apologizing for interrupting. It wasn't like they wanted her to, it really wasn't a big deal. They just weren't used to it.

  Susan was the first to look closer. The closer she walked, the clearer the silhouettes on the water became. The two guards were holding another much smaller man — a dwarf. He was tied up with ropes and a cloth around his mouth. It looked like they were about to drop him into the water, where he'd undoubtedly drown to death.

  Susan reacted much quicker than she would've imagined herself to. She hadn't moved with such swiftness in a long time, but having her bow and arrows in hand made her feel like the woman she was a lifetime ago. The wind tousled her long, brown hair, her light blue eyes gleaming with immense focus. Withdrawing an arrow, she shot at the boat, and as it became lodged in the wood, she bellowed, "DROP HIM!"

  Odette cringed. "Well, maybe don't drop him—"

  The guards exchanged quick glances before shrugging and submerging the dwarf into the river. Susan shot at them again. One man fell into the water upon impact. The other jumped into the water and swam away out of fear. Peter and Edmund broke out into a sprint, weapons drawn. But they quickly tossed their blades aside to save the dwarf from drowning in the river.

  Peter dove into the water as Edmund pulled the boat to land, and before Hope could blink, they were back on the sand with the dwarf in tow. Peter laid the dwarf on the sand, allowing Lucy to kneel and cut his binds with her dagger.

  "What... just happened?" Hope asked. This was the first time she'd really seen the Pevensies in action, especially Peter, Susan, and Lucy. No one answered her, however. So she came closer to the dwarf as he rolled over and began to expel water from his lungs. She commanded, "Give him some space."

  The group backed away, allowing the dwarf to scramble to his feet. Breathless, he roared, "DROP HIM?! That's the best you can come up with?!"

  Susan was appalled. "A simple thank you would've sufficed."

  "They were doing fine drowning me without your help!"

  "Maybe we should have let them," Peter snapped. His blond hair and clothes dripped with water as he glared at the dwarf.

  With pensive eyes, Lucy inquired, "Why were they trying to kill you anyway?"

  The dwarf irritably sighed. "They're Telmarines. It's what they do."

  That caught everyone's attention, including Hope and Odette. They'd heard of Telmarines in London, not Narnia. They weren't from this world. Or, they weren't supposed to be.

  "Telmarines?" Edmund echoed. "In Narnia?"

  The dwarf was stunned by their confusion. "Where have you been for the last few hundred years?"

  Hope furrowed her eyebrows. The Pevensies didn't look as startled to hear that it'd been a few centuries had passed. They were used to how time passed in Narnia. But she and Odette had only learned that time and Narnia weren't dear friends until recently.

  "I'm sorry, did you say hundred?" Hope asked.

  "Yes. Do you all often repeat what's already been said to you?" the dwarf snapped. Hope flinched, and Edmund straightened himself, nearly ready to argue with the dwarf when his sister stopped him.

  Lucy wore a winsome smile. "It's a bit of a long story."

  The dwarf's gaze flickered to Susan as she passed Peter his sword. He eyed it, noticing how the hilt glimmered with pure gold. At the end was a lion's head. The dwarf knew exactly who these people were.

  "Oh, you've got to be kidding me," breathed the dwarf. "You're it? You're the Kings and Queens of Old?"

  Edmund whispered under his breath, "Old?" He knew they were supposed to be a bit older, but being called old when he was just a teenager made him want to laugh.

  "Pleased to meet you!" Lucy greeted.

  The dwarf didn't react to her bright exterior. He just deadpanned, "You're supposed to be dead."

  Lucy deflated. "Well... surprise?"

  As the dwarf introduced himself as Trumpkin, Peter leaned forward, extending his hand toward the dwarf. "High King Peter, the Magnificent," he introduced.

  Hope and Edmund exchanged glances. She cracked a small smile when he rolled his eyes.

  "You probably could've left off the last bit," Susan remarked, causing Trumpkin to chuckle and add, "Probably."

  Peter's hand fell, but he paid no mind to the dwarf's response. He simply unsheathed his sword. "Well, you might be surprised," he challenged.

  Trumpkin tensed up. "Oh, you don't want to do that, boy," he warned.

  Peter shook his head. "Not me." He nodded to his little brother. "Him."

  Edmund shrugged. He might be a little rusty, but he was hardly ever opposed to some friendly sparring. He withdrew his sword as Peter passed his to Trumpkin. The others backed away to give them some room.

  Hope raised an eyebrow when Trumpkin didn't look even a tiny bit nervous to take on Edmund. When she first met the Just King, one of the first things she learned about him was that he was the best swordsman in the land. Surely, that remained true, even after all these years. She could sense it in his walk alone.

  As Trumpkin seemed to struggle with the weight of Peter's sword, Edmund glanced back at Hope, offering her a confident smile. It felt good getting her to crack a smile, even if it was small. It made him feel like he could take on the world.

  Without warning, Trumpkin suddenly lifted the sword, whirling it toward Edmund. As he ducked, the dwarf elbowed him in the face.

  "Edmund!" bleated Lucy.

  "Aww, you alright?" patronized Trumpkin.

  Edmund and Trumpkin circled one another. They slashed at one another, but Edmund just kept dodging his hits effortlessly. His muscle memory carried him through the fight. With every whirl and slash of his sword, power surged through Edmund. He soon overpowered the dwarf. Trumpkin's sword was knocked to the side, and he fell onto the sand, eyes wide.

  Hope stared in awe. "Woah."

  "Beards and bedsteads!" Trumpkin howled. "Maybe that horn worked, after all!"

  Susan perked up. "What horn?"

  Odette tilted her head backward, groaning unhappily. "Great. Here comes another story that's only going to complicate things even more."

  Trumpkin's eyes shot toward Odette, stumped. "And who are you?"

  Trumpkin had been trying to recall all of the stories he'd heard about the High Kings and Queens of Old. He knew of two Narnian Kings — Peter and Edmund — and two Narnian Queens — Susan and Lucy. No, that wasn't right. There were three queens, but the third wasn't spoken of as much. What was her name again?

  "This is Odette," Hope introduced. "I'm Hope."

  "Maybe you've heard of my kingdom," Odette suggested. "I'm... Princess Odette Dunbar, of Wysteria." It was odd to refer to herself as a princess again, but the words were somewhat familiar on her tongue.

  Trumpkin's gaze flickered between them. "Hope... That name sounds familiar, but..." He glanced back at Odette. "What's Wysteria?"