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WALKING IN THE WIND
xii. A HIDING PLACE FOR THE GENTLE

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  HOPE DIDN'T ENJOY BRAGGING, but something about befriending three of Narnia's High Kings and Queens inflated her tiny, tiny ego.

  She relished in the approval of her superiors, and no, before you ask, it didn't have anything to do with her admittedly low confidence. It had everything to do with her low confidence. Hey, your self-esteem would plummet if your king was an asshole with a particular hatred for the working-class, too! Of course, she wasn't saying her king was an asshole (not out loud). For legal reasons, Hope thought King David was a delight.

  Hope was glad she hardly spent time with King David. He was the only person in the universe she couldn't get along with — all for reasons she couldn't control! Luckily, Hope was always with Princess Odette, who was always with King Edmund, who was usually with his siblings nowadays.

  Befriending the Pevensies benefitted Hope immensely, and while she didn't know where she stood with Susan, she was relieved knowing the other three liked her. As a friend, obviously.

  A few days passed since Hope was first haunted by her inappropriate thoughts about the Just King, and in those few days, she corrected herself like that all the time. She fought with herself to remember that Edmund was her friend and also her superior. Although her romantic thoughts about him were solely theoretical, they whirled through her mind all the time.

  And before you ask, yes, there's a difference between thinking about having romantic feelings for someone and actually having said feelings, thank you very much!

  Hope couldn't stop thinking about Edmund, and it frightened her. She knew she didn't have those kinds of feelings for him, so why was she still thinking about it? Well, she was pretty sure she didn't have any romantic feelings for Edmund Pevensie...

  But then she'd see how he interacted with Odette. She'd watch them hold hands as they walked through the gardens, how they kissed every morning, and how they embraced each other before going to sleep every night. It made Hope feel strange. Why? Why him? What were these feelings? Hope feared them.

  Edmund was all she could think about these days, and while she was used to keeping certain thoughts to herself, that didn't mean she enjoyed it. She worried she was going mad.

  At least she had her best friend. Hope would rather drop dead than unload these thoughts on Odette, but at the very least, she was a wonderful distraction. Odette's ability to talk and talk and talk was a blessing in disguise.

  Hope and Odette could be found, oddly enough, in the stables of all places. See, early this morning, Edmund cleared his fiancée's schedule for the day to take her horseback riding through Narnia, which dissolved Hope's schedule in the process. Hope didn't mind though. She had an entire day to do as she pleased, which was more overwhelming than she anticipated. But that was a trivial matter for now. First, she needed to deal with something else (other than her intrusive thoughts).

  "I don't understand why you're so worried!" confessed Hope. In her hands was a rigid brush. It glided through the mane of a black stallion — Odette's horse for the day. A Narnian servant previously offered to prepare the princess's horse, but Hope insisted on helping where she could. "Weren't you longing for more opportunities to befriend Edmund's siblings?"

  Odette paced back and forth beside her. "Yes, but I didn't expect it to happen so... so... suddenly!" she cried. "Edmund sprung this date on me completely by surprise—!"

  "Which we agreed was romantic!"

  "It is, but that's not the problem," Odette reported. "The spontaneity of his siblings offering to join us threw me off! I need at least 12 hours in advance for these kinds of things! I have no talking points prepared, I could've worn something nicer, I could've read up on horses or perhaps more Narnian history..."

  You see, Edmund cleared Odette's schedule because he wanted to show her more of Narnia. But then, Peter, Lucy, and Susan offered to join them since it had been a while since they ventured into the neighboring villages as a family (and Odette might as well be considered family now), thus propelling the princess's anxiety through the roof.

  "Oh, come on, you're more prepared than you think," Hope encouraged. As she spoke, she fastened a saddle on the stallion's back. When she peered back at Odette and saw her attempting to straighten out her already flawless dress, Hope shouted, "Your Highness, you look lovely! Stop fussing!"

  Odette sighed. No matter how many times she told her best friend she didn't need to address her by such formalities, it often slipped out at random times. Odette despised it because that meant deep down, Hope still viewed the princess as her superior instead of her best friend. Odette liked to think of Hope as her equal.

  Locking her hands together, the princess worriedly asked, "You're friends with them now, aren't you? How did you do it?"

  With a cheeky smile, Hope joked, "With my award-winning personality, of course."

  The princess surprised herself when she laughed. She was forever grateful for Hope's talent to always make her smile during moments like these. That was a trait Hope and Edmund shared, she noticed. She supposed that made sense though. Their matched wits were sharper than any sword in the land.

  Hope continued, "What makes you think they don't like you, hm?"

  Odette hesitated. "I'm worried they think I'm spoiled or a brat."

  "Well, you are spoiled and you are a brat."

  "You're not helping!" wailed the princess.

  "But," added the handmaid, finishing up with the black stallion, "those traits make you who you are. You're high-maintenance, sure, not to mention fussy and loud—" Hope peered back at her, noticing how she cringed. "The point is, we all have our good and bad qualities. Pretending the parts you dislike about yourself are nonexistent doesn't change who you are. You're still you, and if people don't want you for you, then they don't deserve you. It's that simple, Ode."

  Odette's lips curled, her tense shoulders dropping. "Your advice is stellar as always, but we honestly need to do something about those speeches of yours. Must you hurt me to make me feel good?" she whined. "For a moment, I feared you were going to belittle me like—"

  Odette didn't have to finish her sentence for Hope to know what she was going to say.

  Like my mum.

  "Well, fortunately, I'm not her. I'm just your handmaid and your friend," Hope pointed out. She walked toward her, gently squeezing Odette's shoulders. "You're a star, my princess. Don't change yourself because people can't tolerate your radiance."

  Beaming, Odette returned, "Thank you, Hope. I needed to hear that."

  "I know," she teased.

  As she spoke, another Narnian servant, a centaur, approached them. He went on to apologize before informing the princess that the horses have been prepared for High King Peter, King Edmund, and Queen Lucy.

  Odette prided herself on her ability to quickly bounce back when she was distressed. She straightened her posture and cleared her throat while querying, "And Queen Susan?"

  The centaur shook his head and elucidated, "I've been notified she will not be joining you this afternoon due to a headache."

  As he left, Hope turned to Odette, smirking, "I think Aslan may be on your side today. The Gentle Queen is the most intimidating of the Pevensies."

  Odette scoffed. "Yeah, right. Have you met the High King?"

  "Yes," confirmed Hope, "and he's nothing but a child in a man's body. He's sweet!"

  This was true. After Hope joined Peter for a midnight snack the other day, they developed a mutual respect. It was an oddly enlightening experience, one filled with philosophical conversations and jokes throughout the night. It's weird, isn't it? Befriending kings and queens as a mere handmaid was unheard of in Wysteria.

  Their giggles subdued the stables as Hope moved onto the other horses, ensuring they were ready for their long day. Her smile grew as she approached the first of the three. His hair was dark brown, like chocolate, and he stared at her with an almost judgmental look in his eyes.

  Hope giggled and bantered, "Oh, you must be Edmund's horse. You two could be twins."

  To her surprise, the horse replied, "I hope you mean that as a compliment."

  Despite spending nearly two weeks in Narnia, she wasn't used to the fact that animals talked in this country. Well, maybe that wasn't the right way to word it. Hope supposed she was used to it, but that didn't change the fact that she was entirely impressed and awestruck every time one uttered a word to her.

  "What gave it away?" the horse added, almost sardonically. His voice was deep, aged. Hope sensed he was a bit older than the others.

  "You two have that same brooding look in your eyes," she teased. "What's your name, loyal knight?"

  "Phillip. You must be... Lady Hope?"

  She waved her hand. "Please, just Hope is fine. What gave it away?" she mocked.

  "His Majesty mentioned you once or twice—"

  "Phillip!" a new voice boomed. As if on cue, Edmund sauntered into the stables, his cheeks searing with a faint shade of scarlet. Hope was quick to dismiss it. It was a hot day, she supposed. "You're talkative today, aren't you?" Phillip didn't reply, only lowly scoffing.

  Hope hummed, amused. "He's lovely. He might be a better conversationalist than you."

  Donning that stupid smile Hope was secretly beginning to adore, Edmund chuckled. "I can't believe I'm being abandoned for a horse."

  Hope tucked a piece of her red hair behind her ear. "I wouldn't say abandon is the right word. I'm just being... friendly."

  "You might be as clumsy with your words as you are with your feet."

  She scoffed, though he wasn't wrong. She seemed to be rather clumsy when she was thinking too hard about what she was doing or saying. Still, she wouldn't admit that to him. Aslan knows he'd never let it go.

  "I'm not a klutz! You... just..." she trailed, her smile growing. "You just have a massive head."

  A twinkle of mischief lit his dark eyes. "Oh, is that so?" he challenged.

  "Mhm," she hummed with a nod. "It's quite distracting."

  Edmund glanced back at Odette as she busily chatted with Peter and Lucy, a newly discovered confidence surging through her. His gaze shifted back to Hope, and with a cheeky grin and a low voice, he asked, "Are you saying I distract you, dove?"

  Hope swore her heart stopped beating.

  "I-I, um," she stammered. Heat spread in her cheeks. Her breathing became hitched in her throat as those stupid thoughts rolled through her head again. "You... Well..."

  Neighing, Phillip implored, "Please, stop flirting in front of me. It's agonizing."

  This time, Edmund's eyes widened. His face fell. "Huh? I'm not... We weren't... We were just—!" he stammered.

  Hope took this as a chance to redeem herself. "Well, look who's tripping over his words now? You must've jinxed yourself," she taunted with a giggle.

  Her joke brought Edmund relief as he laughed his sudden distress away. Why did he get so nervous at the horse's words? Obviously, he wasn't flirting. They were friends! Fortunately, Hope didn't want to carry on that conversation any further (which bothered Edmund a little bit, but he would keep that to himself).

  "So, um," Hope continued, awkwardly clearing her throat. She ripped her gaze away from Edmund's lingering eyes, admiring the architecture of the large stables. "These stables are incredible. I was worried I'd get lost in her earlier."

  Still frazzled from his horse's accusation, Edmund brashly spat out, "Y-Yeah, I suppose you're not familiar with things like this, right? You know, as a handmaid."

  Hope paused. "I... guess?"

  What an odd thing to say.

  Edmund had no idea what he was saying. The words were falling out of his mouth like rain on a cloudy day. He was merely talking for the sake of talking — anything to shake off the weird feeling that just overtook him.

  "I'm sure you don't get opportunities to see these things as often as the princess or I might," he arrogantly mentioned.

  Hope pinched her eyebrows together as she looked back at him again. Was he... trying to offend her?

  "Oh, um, I don't know," she slowly answered. "Just because I'm her handmaiden doesn't mean I haven't seen much if that's what you're suggesting."

  It was then when Edmund realized what he was saying. Aslan, was he a moron?

  "Oh, no! No, I didn't mean that like... like that—!"

  "Like what?" Hope quietly asked. Her green irises stared right through him, making him noticeably nervous. Her voice was sturdy, but her face showed him everything she felt: pain.

  Edmund felt like a huge asshole. "Oh, Aslan, I'm sorry. Truly, I didn't mean it like that—"

  Hope forced a little smile. "I'm sure you didn't," she curtly retorted. "Enjoy your afternoon, Your Majesty." With a little curtsey, she left the stables.

  And just like that, Edmund knew he screwed up. He didn't usually spew out such insensitive words. This wasn't like him at all. Lion's Mane, what was Hope doing to him?

  Hope could hardly mask her disappointment. Was she being irrational? She knew she was a little sensitive, but her reaction was reasonable, right? It felt like Edmund was trying to make her feel differently because she was a servant. Was that really what he thought of her? Did he judge her on the things she'd seen and the life she lived? Hope never would've taken him for someone who cared about those things.

  Hope cherished her childhood. She grew up with a loving father, a roof over her head, and lots of friends that acted as her extended family. She thought her upbringing made her unique, just like Odette's or anyone else's childhood. So, why did Edmund's few words cut so deeply? Honestly, Hope was never insecure about her life as a servant until he had something to say about it. The thought of him, specifically, looking down on her made her feel horrible.

  Oh, what was he doing to her?

  Hope shook her head as she trudged through Cair Paravel. She forced a smile and politely greeted those that passed her by, unable to think about anything other than her intense desire to be alone. Yes, that was what she needed. She didn't want to tend to anyone, she didn't want to make stupid small-talk. She just wanted to be alone. She needed a quiet place to hide.

  That was how Hope found herself in the library.

  Hope didn't have many opportunities to explore Cair Paravel's gargantuan library, even when she had a moment to spare. She only saw it from the outside during Lucy's tour the other week. Since then, Hope would pass it and hear it call her name — a little ringing in her ear, a song with only one word. Hope, Hope, Hope. She longed to see it with her eyes, and perhaps this would be her only chance to do so until the wedding. As much as she wanted to sit in a corner and mope over Edmund's words, she found her feet carrying her to the library.

  Like every other experience in Narnia, stepping into the library was like stepping into another universe. It was three times the size of the library in Wysteria's castle. The bookshelves reached all the way to the ceiling, each containing more books than Hope had ever seen in her life. Grand windows stood along the walls, cranberry drapes hugging their sides. The library glowed with golden hues from the outside world. It was almost enough for Hope to forget about what Edmund said earlier. Almost.

  Hope wandered through the endless aisles, unsure of where to start. Every turn brought her to even more books. It was overwhelming. There were so many untold stories in that room, each one whispering her name, each one eager to be understood and cherished. Where to start? Was there an end? Hope was in awe of Cair Paravel's not-so-hidden gem. And as she sauntered through the library, she couldn't help but frown.

  Because, once again, her thoughts wandered to Edmund.

  She thought about his love for reading. "I prefer proper literature. So does my sister, Susan. Except she reads because she wants to seem smarter and I read for the art."

  She couldn't believe she ever thought she might have feelings for him. Among other reasons why she could never like him romantically, Hope and Edmund were simply too different. He was a king, she was a servant. It would never make sense. It would never work.

  Hope didn't realize she was clenching her jaw until her bones began to ache. She grumbled a string of curse words under her breath until a gentle voice called out, "Hello?"

  Hope faltered. Maybe she was being a little bit louder than she intended. Poking her head around the corner of another bookshelf, Hope's heart sunk in her chest. Queen Susan Pevensie sat at a table with a book opened up before her. A quill sat in her hand as it hovered above a neat stack of papers, almost as though she were annotating whatever she was reading without marking on her book.

  Hope's eyes widened. "O-Oh, I'm sorry, Your Majesty," she apologized, curtseying. "I can go if you'd like."

  Susan's pensive eyes contained the skies, and under her gaze, Hope felt the weight of gravity in them. Silently, she studied Hope and the discomfort on her features. It was unusual for the girl, the queen deemed.

  "...No, you can stay," Susan finally said. She motioned to the empty chair at the table. "It seems you could use the peace and quiet more than me."

  Hope didn't have any reason to resist. She noiselessly glided forward and sat down. Hope noticed how the chair didn't make a rickety noise as she expected it to. She grew uncomfortable under Susan's constant staring. It made Hope feel even more insecure than before. Was there something on her face? Did she do something wrong—?

  "Are you alright?" Susan inquired, her tender voice cutting through Hope's intrusive thoughts.

  Although Susan had her doubts about Hope, she wasn't a monster. She was known as the Gentle for a reason. Yes, she was famous for being a mother-hen, but that wasn't inherently an insult. She gave some of the best advice in Narnia, praised for her gentle touch. She was sought out so often that she recognized the little quirks people did whenever something was bothering them. Susan would have to be an idiot not to notice Hope's slightly furrowed brow and clenched jaw.

  Forcing a smile, Hope answered, "I'm... having a weird day, I guess."

  Susan nodded slowly. "I know the feeling." She sensed Hope didn't want to talk about the gruesome details of why she wasn't her usual beaming self, so she simply urged, "Well, you're more than welcome to hide out here until you feel better. This is one of my favorite places. It's not often anyone can find this corner of the library. I'm impressed."

  Hope hesitated. She despised feeling like she was intruding, but she couldn't do anything about it now. Might as well make the best of it. "I can assure you I hadn't any idea where I was going," she lightly bantered. "Everything in Narnia is so much more extravagant than Wysteria. It's a maze within a maze at times."

  Susan tried not to let it show that her words caught her attention. Her mind wandered to her original theory of Hope being a golddigger.

  "Do you prefer it here then?" wondered Susan, peering down at her book again and scribbling something down. Her pink lips were somewhat pursed. "Who doesn't like extravagant things, after all?"

  Hope looked up at their little corner, thinking about it briefly. She didn't notice Susan peer up at her, studying her without making it too obvious.

  "That's a difficult question," admitted the handmaid. She sat so straight that you would've thought a string was pulling at her spine. Legs crossed, chin held high, shoulders pushed back—Hope didn't want to be perceived as disrespectful. "I think I prefer Narnia over Wysteria, but not for the things you have here. I don't think the material things are what gives it its charm. Does... Does that make sense?"

  Susan raised an eyebrow. She knew what Hope meant because she felt the same, but she was intrigued regardless. "Somewhat."

  Hope laced her fingers together as her hands sat in her lap. She nervously fiddled with them. She wasn't used to speaking to Queen Susan one-on-one like this. Even in group settings, she intimidated Hope.

  "Well, Wysteria's dark and gloomy and unfortunately impoverished. Even the royal family doesn't have much," Hope answered. "When you live so close with... uh, I reckon you could say darkness, you eventually seek out the light without realizing it. And as I've grown older, I've noticed that the things that hold the most... light aren't material things. It's the people. They light up the land. I think it's the same in Narnia. Magic and castles are nice, but the people give it meaning. And there seems to be a lot of light in Narnia compared to Wysteria. I guess that's why I like it here so much."

  Hope wavered again, bowing her head. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty, I'm rambling."

  Susan shook her head, humming. She pressed a finger to her lips thoughtfully. She even smiled at how Hope's eyes lit up in the midst of her rambling. Susan was charmed. She didn't like admitting when she was wrong, but this time, part of her was glad to think it was a possibility that she was wrong about Hope. She wasn't fully convinced yet, but this was certainly a start.

  After a moment, the Gentle Queen remarked, "Haven't I told you to call me Susan? My apologies."

  Hope wasn't used to her superiors apologizing to her yet, but that wasn't why she reacted by pinching her eyebrows together.

  "You four really don't like formalities, do you?" she mused. "I can't imagine addressing King David or Queen Lydia by anything other than Your Majesty." She paused. "Sorry, I'm thinking out loud. Pay no mind."

  "You shouldn't apologize when you've done nothing wrong," Susan kindly advised. "Did you know women apologize more than men? It's a curse, I'd say. They've convinced us that they're the ones that are never wrong, but after growing up with two stubborn brothers, I think that idea is a fantasy."

  Hope chuckled. It was nice seeing Susan relax a little bit. She always seemed so tense, worrying about everyone other than herself. Susan hardly ever talked about what she was thinking.

  "Anyway, I think it's good to think out loud," Susan went on. "It can be so exhausting running through the same cycle of thoughts and never hearing them out loud. And then, when you finally say them aloud, you actually hear how ridiculous they might be." She hesitated, quietly laughing. "Sorry. It's this book I've been reading. Ed got me hooked on it, but I've been struggling to get past this page because of my headache."

  Susan watched as Hope's eyes glimmered, an idea forming in seconds. A smile tugged at her lips. It reminded Susan much of her youngest sister.

  "I'm afraid I'm not well-versed in magic, but I have a talent for brewing tea. Would you be interested in a cup?" she offered. "Odette swears by my tea. Your headache will be gone within the hour."

  Susan sat up and placed her quill down. She was intrigued. "Is that so?" she challenged. "You know, it's not wise to set such high expectations for yourself. I'm a bit of a tea connoisseur."

  "In that case, you won't be disappointed," Hope promised. "It would be my greatest honor... Susan."

  She couldn't help the smile that invaded her face. "Alright. You're on, Hope."

  Susan felt more conflicted about Hope than before. The others were right. Hope was sweet and genuine, even before you lured her out of her shell. Susan saw a bit of herself in Hope in that sense, though she'd admit she could be more standoffish than the handmaid. Maybe that was the introvert in her.

  There was something charming about Hope. She had a welcoming and bright nature to her that made Susan want to let down her guard. Susan always kept a wall around herself, reserving her emotional strength for others. But Hope had an inviting nature that Susan was often acknowledged and praised for by others. Was that what others felt when they talked to Susan? How... peculiar!

  Susan didn't realize it yet, but Hope was a kindred spirit that would lure her away from her hiding place within herself and her walls.

  Susan didn't think she could trust Hope entirely quite yet. Susan was still onto the handmaid and her intentions with her little brother; however, her concerns didn't feel as much of a pressing issue as it did before. She decided to take that as a good sign.

  By the way, if you're curious, Hope was right. That was the best cup of tea Susan ever had in her 19 years of life.