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WALKING IN THE WIND
ix. A REPRISAL OF A PROPER PRINCESS'S PLIGHTS

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  WHEN ODETTE FIRST LEARNED of Narnia's golden rulers, she only heard wonderful things.

  It gave her chills hearing about how four children were called upon by the Great Lion to purge the winter that cursed the land, and how their success was so powerful that spring swallowed the kingdom and forced the snow to melt. Their castle was so esoteric and whimsical that it even had a given name — something she'd never heard of, not even in her best friend's fairytale books. These rulers governed the land so wisely and prudently that the Narnians never again witnessed corruption or calamity once winter passed. They only knew joy in the land where animals spoke and trees danced. This was the story she knew.

  And when she met them, the stories became her reality. She fell in love with Narnia and its rulers. She got to know them in a way others could only dream of. She learned how the first of the four was as mighty as his famed blade, the very blade he used to bring down the White Witch. But he was golden and warm, too, replacing the sun in the northern skies. He was human, but his smile could rebirth spring again and again. He was given the ultimate crown to honor his magnificence.

  She learned how the second exceeded all other beauties, both in appearance and in her psyche. Her mind was as sharp as her words, but her touch was tender. Even as her calloused fingers grazed her bow in war, she was gentle.

  She learned how the third was wise beyond his years. His counsel was a prized possession. Despite once walking an icy path of darkness, he shined luminous enough to blind even himself. As the finest swordsman in the land and the owner of the most intricate mind, the Just was both adored and feared. He was capable. Perhaps too capable.

  She learned how the fourth was a gem among pebbles. Her smile could cure all ailments. To underestimate her was to seal your fate, for she was as delicate as a flower but braver than a lion. She was peculiar like that, an ocean that pulled you in until you were drowning in her. There were rumors that the youngest was a lioness in disguise.

  Odette always wondered what would happen to Narnia if something were to happen to the Pevensies. If life could be so wonderful because of them, then could it be horrible, too? Would the stars fall from the heavens? Would the sun burn out of existence? Would the world end by fire and ice?

  In short, the answer seemed to be yes.

  For the first time, the Pevensies weren't these godly legends. They were just children, just boys and girls. They were mere humans, ones that bled scarlet and cried salty tears. They were just like her, and oh how it made her cringe to think that she was anything like the people this land worshipped. A lifetime ago, these people were everything she aspired to be, and now, they were just like her.

  Seeing them in their prime and then seeing them after losing everything brought forth a hollow feeling in Odette's chest.

  They strolled through the Black Woods with Peter guiding them. It was almost pitiful seeing him lead this small group of screw-ups instead of the ferocious army he deserved. His blond hair glistened in the sunlight, as gold as his sword's hilt. The others trekked after him, this time more wary of their surroundings.

  Now that Trumpkin spelled it out for everyone, Odette knew they were finally seeing how different Narnia was. To her, it was painfully obvious. The trees were skinny and malnourished, their crooked trunks reaching for the gods and praying for death. No longer did their branches arch to shade them from the blistering sun. The wind was gentle as it brushed their hair, but it no longer whispered sweet nothings into their ears. Animals foamed at the mouth, and even the ocean was dull and weakened. The waves weren't carefree and lively, but rather, they were timid. The cicadas didn't sing — they cried. Narnia had never looked so lifeless and grim.

  This land isn't savage, Odette decided. It was misunderstood, feared, and abused. It was beaten and torn apart until it cowered and gave in.

  And still, this was their home. To the Pevensies, this pitiful prison was their home, and it was worth fighting for, even after their people were slaughtered, ashes polluted the air, and shadows conquered the land. There was still a chance they could save it again.

  Though Narnia was a gaunt cemetery, Odette and Hope didn't flinch at what the land was now. Because this was exactly what Wysteria looked like in its final days before they left: decaying, broken, raw. This time, Narnia was familiar to them because it reminded them of home. Maybe that was why Hope didn't notice a difference at first because this was what she was used to. Either way, they were more equipped and prepared mentally to take on Narnia and its so-called savagery than the Pevensies were.

  Despite it being impossible, neither girl walked without wondering if they brought the plague from home to Narnia.

  "You know," Edmund said from beside Hope, "I'm fairly certain he has no idea where he's going."

  An intrigued hum left her as she looked toward Peter. He looked so confident and prideful in leading them. Maybe optimistic, too. All of the Pevensies were, now that she was thinking about it. As regretful as they were, they were so certain they could save Narnia.

  "How do you know?"

  He motioned to a little pond toward the west. "See that pond? We've passed it three times already."

  "And why haven't you told him?" Hope laughed.

  Edmund just shrugged. "I like seeing him look like an idiot sometimes. It's satisfying."

  Odette wasn't trying to eavesdrop, but it was difficult not to when they were right in front of her. She tensed every time they laughed or smiled at each other or even looked at one another, and though she could just look away and try to ignore them, she couldn't. She couldn't bring herself to turn away and pretend they weren't there. All she could do was observe them as they tried to find some peace in their dystopian world.

  She hated how much she was paying attention to them. She hated the intensity in his eyes when he looked at Hope. How they were always touching, often unintentionally. Even their first meeting held Hope's cheek hostage in shades of red that she failed to blame on the heat of the day. Whatever they felt for each other after all this time was so strong that even Odette could feel it.

  It wasn't like Odette hated Hope. She didn't hate Edmund either. But there was an intense hatred rumbling within her that she didn't know what to do with. What once was a seed had grown and grown right under her nose, and it became untameable. She was suffocating from the inside out. Everything was piling up on each other, surrounding her, closing in on her until all she could do was begin to push. Whatever was nearest to her, she pushed it and fought it and screamed at it because all she wanted was to breathe. And of course, poor Hope was the only one who dared to stand close enough to get hurt.

  Odette knew she had done wrong by her best friend, and it infuriated her. How pathetic was she to lie and manipulate and keep secrets from the only person who truly cared about her and loved her for everything she was? How stupid was she to treat her like that?

  She didn't know the answers. She didn't know why she was like this either. But what she did know was that this didn't just happen overnight. It couldn't have because she knew she'd felt this way for a long time: furious, aggravated, frustrated, tired. God, she was exhausted.

  Her whole life, she was bred and manufactured to be the obedient, proper princess her parents wanted her to be. And she wanted to blame them. She wanted to blame everyone for her behavior. She wanted to blame her parents for raising her to believe no one would love her or care for her if she didn't act the way they wanted her to. She wanted to blame her parents for making her feel foolish for wanting to be strong and independent. She wanted to blame her parents for attempting to normalize treating people poorly because they weren't wealthy or royal. She wanted to blame her royal advisers for telling her she'd only ever be loved for her face and name, never her mind and heart. She wanted to blame her kingdom for holding her to standards she could never reach. She wanted to blame Aslan because for fuck's sake, she would keep trying to reach those standards anyway because if she couldn't please herself, she would please everyone else.

  And she succeeded.

  She succeeded for so long. She played the game the universe forced her into, just until she could get to a place where things could go her way, a place where people weren't so judgmental, a place where she could smile because she wanted to — not because others wanted her to.

  And then her best friend, her wonderful best friend, had to go and make a mistake that singlehandedly destroyed everything Odette spent her whole life working toward.

  Odette knew what she did to Hope was wrong. She knew it was wrong to get angry and try to push the blame onto other people. She knew it was her fault for taking things too far, and it was her fault for letting her hatred for the world poison her. She just couldn't allow herself to be weak enough to accept defeat, so instead, she let herself be weak enough to become the very person she never wanted to be. She became just like her parents.

  She just felt so... helpless. She'd felt this helpless for so long. She blamed herself. She hated herself. She hated the world and its stupid ideals. She even hated her parents. After denying how awful they were out loud for so long, she could finally accept that she hated her parents. But she supposed it didn't matter anyway. They were dead. So were her people. The kingdom she loved was gone, too. She always thought that if she could survive her parents, she could be strong enough to save her home, but now it was too late.

  Maybe Odette could move on if she had a minute to process everything, but she was like Hope. She was just learning everything, too. Even the marriage was very fresh in her mind after her memories were erased for so long. Odette was so overcome and weary and frustrated and filled with so much disdain that every little thing was setting her off.

  No wonder being around Hope made her feel so tense. She just reminded her of everything that was wrong.

  She wished none of this ever happened. She wished she could take all of these feelings she had and cry to her best friend like she used to back in the day. Of course, back then, no one knew she felt this way. She would lie and say she was bothered because maybe a dress wasn't made of a specific fabric or her tea wasn't hot enough or her crown wasn't shiny enough. So, yes, maybe she did keep things from Hope, but it was because she didn't know how to be herself without fearing criticism. She made up superficial lies because she was never allowed to express what she was truly feeling, and no one ever noticed, not even Hope.

  No, that wasn't true. There was one person who noticed. It was a person Odette never expected to notice this, but when she did, she cried to her for an entire afternoon. Susan Pevensie was the first to see right through Odette Dunbar.

  It was odd being seen. She just couldn't lie to Susan without her knowing exactly what was wrong. Every lie Odette composed, Susan deciphered it and helped her through it. It didn't take Odette long before she learned Susan could figure this stuff out because she experienced the same thing in her family. Maybe it wasn't to the same degree, but Susan knew what it was like having to put on a mask and pushing her feelings away for others, too.

  Since then, Susan had become a dear friend to Odette, and when the princess's memories returned, the first person she wanted to see was the Gentle Queen. Even before this mess began, Susan and Odette were always together, and now that they'd reunited, they hadn't parted unless they had to.

  "I don't remember this way," Susan called, now walking beside Odette after the latter slipped to the front. They'd all been following Peter for quite a while now, and they were entering lands none of the Pevensies recognized.

  "That's the thing about girls!" taunted Peter. "You can't carry a map in your heads!"

  Odette flinched at his words. Yes, they were lighthearted, but they just reminded her so much of her parents.

  "That's because our heads have something in them!" Lucy smugly fired back. "Right, Odette?"

  Odette had gotten good at forcing smiles over the years, but this time, hers was genuine. The sheer optimism that was fueling the Pevensies was contagious. Although she wasn't feeling her best, she could at least banter with them.

  "Mhm," Odette agreed. "Men would be nowhere without women!"

  Something twisted in Odette's chest when she heard Edmund whisper something to Hope, causing her to laugh.

  But it went away when Susan smiled at her. "Agreed! I just wish he'd listen to the DLF in the first place."

  Curious, Edmund asked, "DLF?"

  Lucy grinned. "Dear Little Friend."

  Trumpkin halted in his steps from the back of the group, making a face. "Oh, that's not at all patronizing, is it?" he muttered.

  The group soon found themselves standing at a rock passage. Bafflement contorted Peter's face. He didn't recognize this area, but... surely he'd been going the right way, right? Right? That was impossible! This was his home. How could he be lost in the land he helped birth?

  "I'm not lost..." Peter muttered to himself.

  Trumpkin walked ahead, retorting, "No, you're just going the wrong way."

  Peter and Susan exchanged glances, silently arguing with one another. She nodded toward Trumpkin as if to support him. He just made a face that screamed "I thought you were on my side!" Susan rolled her eyes.

  Peter looked back at the dwarf, irritated. He despised it when people questioned his intelligence or authority. "You last saw Caspian at the Shuddering Woods," he recited, "and the quickest way there is to cross at the river rush."

  "But unless I'm mistaken, there's no crossing in these parts," insisted Trumpkin.

  "That explains it then," Peter jeered. "You're mistaken."

  That was the thing with Peter. He was always so insistent that he was right that he never gave himself room to be wrong until it was too late. His siblings often worried that would backfire on him one day.

  They hiked through the Black Woods until they came across a gorge. They stood at the top of what appeared to be a tall cliff. At the bottom was, just as Peter argued, the river rush. Only it was a few thousand feet below them.

  Hope awkwardly laughed as they stared down at the rushing water. "At least Peter wasn't completely wrong?"

  Odette wouldn't give Hope the satisfaction of laughing at her comment, though she nearly did.

  "You see, over time, water erodes the earth's soil, carving deeper—" Susan explained, causing Peter to interrupt her with a sharp, "Oh, shut up."

  Edmund looked to Trumpkin and queried, "Is there a way down?"

  "Yeah. Falling." Trumpkin sighed. "Come. There's a ford at Beruna. Any of you mind swimming?"

  "I'd rather that than walking," Susan said, stepping forward with the others. Together, they continued on their hike, trying to ignore how their feet were uncomfortably aching.

  "Great. Let's hurry while we're still young, yeah?" Odette suggested. She paused, muttering, "Well, I guess you guys aren't exactly young..."

  Susan, who had heard Odette's little comment, was about to reply, but she was interrupted by Lucy.

  "Aslan?"

  In an instant, all heads whipped toward Lucy as she continued to shout, "It's Aslan! It's Aslan! Over there!" She gasped, her grin growing. She turned to the group, pointing at something across the gaping cliff. "Don't you see? He's right—" Lucy whirled back around, only to find that whatever she'd seen was gone. Her smile dropped. "—there..."

  If Odette was being honest, she had been looking, but she didn't see anything across the cliff. There were trees and dirt, sure, but no magical lion deities.

  Trumpkin looked unimpressed. "Do you see him now?"

  Lucy frowned. "I'm not crazy. He was there! He wanted us to follow him."

  Odette cringed at whatever hallucination was playing tricks on Lucy's mind. She glanced toward Hope, wondering if she'd seen the same as Lucy. But the redhead looked puzzled, unsure of what Lucy had proclaimed.

  Peter wasn't buying it. "I'm sure there are any number of lions in this wood, just like that bear."

  "I think I'd know Aslan when I see him," Lucy argued.

  "Look, I'm not about to jump off a cliff after someone who doesn't exist," Trumpkin simply said.

  Edmund was just as skeptical as the others, but he disliked how insistent everyone was to put his sister down. "The last time I didn't believe Lucy, I ended up looking pretty stupid," he chimed.

  But Peter wasn't letting up. "Why wouldn't I have seen him?"

  "Maybe you weren't looking," Lucy insisted.

  Peter sighed. "...I'm sorry, Lu." Then, he nodded to the others, and the march continued.

  But before Odette followed, she noticed Hope and Lucy hadn't moved yet. She slowed her pace, listening curiously to their conversation.

  Lucy lingered in the same spot she saw Aslan in. Disappointment tainted her typically cheerful face, causing Hope to call, "Hey, Lucy?"

  "Yeah?" Lucy meekly replied.

  "Don't worry. Aslan will be happy to see you when we find him."

  "I hope so... You don't think I'm crazy, do you?"

  Hope paused before a smile returned to her face. "I do. But does that make you wrong or bad? Of course not. Trust yourself, Lucy. No one can tell you what to think or how to feel other than yourself. Who cares if Trumpkin doesn't believe in Aslan? We believe oxygen exists despite being unable to see it, right?"

  Lucy matched Hope's smile with one of her own. "Thanks, Hope. How'd you know exactly what I wanted to hear?"

  "I guess I would want someone to say the same to me if we were in the same situation," she darkly replied.

  It was then when Odette realized Hope knew she was eavesdropping.

  "Come on, Loony Lu. I don't want to get mauled by a lion," Hope said. "Or worse — Trumpkin."

  Their giggles flooded the woods as they started to catch up with the others again. But as they passed an unmoving Odette, Hope couldn't help but pause. She glanced ahead to see that Lucy was still skipping ahead, not bothering to wait for either girl. Hesitance engraved Hope's face before she finally called to the princess, "We shouldn't stray from the others."

  "I know, I was just... thinking about something," Odette muttered. She stared out across the gorge. "Did you see Aslan back there?"

  Hope followed her gaze with a frown. "No. I thought I did, but..." She shook her head. "Did you?"

  "Nope," Odette revealed. "You always believed in him so deeply, more than anyone back home. I thought maybe you would've."

  "Maybe he didn't want us to see him," Hope suggested, though she didn't seem too confident in her theory. "We should get back to the others—"

  "Do you think if I hadn't made you think all of this wasn't real, you would've seen him?" Odette slowly wondered. "Like, what if it's about belief? You always said that Wysteria was all screwed up because no one believed in Aslan. What if that's why you didn't see him?"

  Hope dug her heel into the dirt, apprehensive. "What's your point?"

  "I'm sorry for making your belief in him waver," she softly said.

  "Don't be silly, I still believe in Aslan just as much as I did before," Hope insisted. "I believed in him back then and I never saw him either. I'm sure it's nothing that extreme."

  "Maybe. I don't know. Everything's so confusing now. I don't know what to think anymore," admitted Odette.

  "I think everyone feels that way. It's, er, overwhelming. We've all lost something that meant a lot to us. We're all going through this together."

  "I wish we weren't," Odette confessed. "Everything would be so much simpler if..."

  "If?"

  "Never mind, let's just go back—"

  "Odette," Hope urged, "at this point, I don't care if it hurts my feelings. I just want you to be honest with me."

  It was silent between them for a long moment before Odette sighed. "If you hadn't fallen for him, none of this would've happened. Alright? There, I said it."

  Hope flinched at her words. "Right. I guess I walked into that one," she muttered. "If I had any control over my feelings, I would've done something about it. I tried to keep it a secret. I didn't want things to end up like this. But... I don't know, maybe it's a good thing?"

  Odette's gaze snapped back toward her. "A good thing? You think it's a good thing that a stupid boy is getting between us?"

  "He's not stupid," Hope defended. "This isn't about him. None of this is. It's about you lying to me for a year."

  "You keep defending him, but you hardly know him! Do you even know what his favorite color is?" Odette calmly retorted. Hope was silent, thus proving her point. "You honestly think this isn't about him? Not even a little bit?"

  "I-I don't know. Maybe?"

  "If you hadn't fallen for him, everything would be how it's supposed to be. Wysteria would still exist, Narnia wouldn't have gone to shit, Cair Paravel would still be standing, everyone we once knew would be alive! I would've fixed Wysteria before it was too late! Don't you see? All of this keeps circling back to you."

  "You're in denial," Hope bluntly said. "You're in denial, and you and I both know you would've been miserable had nothing in our lives changed. You said it yourself, you preferred London."

  "That doesn't change my point."

  "How was I supposed to know everything would unravel this way?" Hope pleaded. "I tried my hardest to keep what happened a secret because I know how much Wysteria and your coronation meant to you! How could you imply that all of this is about him?"

  "Things aren't that simple. Nothing about this is that simple," Odette argued. "Open your eyes! I know you're not this narrow-minded! All of this, this entire fight we're having, is about him and you and me and everything! But at the root of this, you're the cause. You've been so adamant in blaming me, and you know what? I get it now. I know I did some screwed up things, but you can't walk around pretending none of this isn't your fault! We wouldn't have gotten in this situation if you had just..."

  "If I had just kept my mouth shut and stayed your obedient servant, right?" Hope grated.

  "God, can you please stop bringing up new things to make me feel even worse than I already do? I never wanted to make you feel less of a person just because you're a handmaid. That was my parents. You know that!" Odette insisted. "I know I screwed up, and I'll spend the rest of eternity apologizing. But you're guilty, too. You dug the hole and dragged all of us under, and now, we're currently hiking in the middle of fucking nowhere with a dwarf that doesn't believe in magic and a bunch of 30-something-year-old teenagers because a magical Lion God doesn't want to make an appearance! Can't you take any accountability for screwing up, too? Please! Because I've been carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders my whole life just so other people can be happy, and I'm tired! I'm tired of doing all of this alone! Can't you at least understand that?"

  Odette wished she knew what was going on in Hope's mind as she stared at her with sorrow flooding her eyes. It was as though something clicked in Hope, and she hadn't realized it until now. Odette only wondered what exactly that was, but before she could ask, Susan was calling for them to catch up.

  Neither girl said a word, only walking together to rejoin the others in silence. And as they did, they didn't bother fighting the regret that consumed them.

  Odette feared things would never be okay between them again.