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WALKING IN THE WIND
xvi. ACTIONS SPEAK LOUDER

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  GOOD THINGS COME TO good people. That's another thing Hope believed; that Aslan might have a plan for everyone, but he typically favors good people, people who do commendable deeds without anticipating anything in return. She didn't know much, but she believed that, at the very least, she was a good person. Then again, considering recent events, maybe she was no better than a ferocious dragon.

  Silence became her, but the dread that shadowed her was unmistakably loud. She thought her reaction was reasonable, especially considering she'd just barely survived the wrath of a few hundred — yes, hundred — fairies. She never would've considered miniature humans with rosy cheeks, dainty wings, and shrill roars to be so ghastly, but when it came down to it, she was half-convinced she was going to die back there. But... perhaps dying at the hand of fairies would be better than her inevitable date with a guillotine.

  "Hope."

  The last hour and a half rippled through her mind in a constant cycle: finding the fairies, meeting Queen Titania, the lying, the soul-binding spell, the Fairy Queen's sudden change of heart, the near-death experience. It was too much for her to process all at once, but she did it anyway. Or, she was trying to. For the sake of not going insane.

  "We have to talk about what happened."

  Her legs were jelly and her feet throbbed, but she paced back and forth anyway as she had for the past 15 minutes. It was all she could do. Despite her exhaustion, she couldn't sit still. Back and forth, back and forth, she paced, stuck in a cycle, like her memories of tonight. Perhaps it'd profit her in comprehending everything faster — if she moved with the cycle in a cycle of her own. Or, maybe this was just her body trying to compensate for all of the anxiety in her being. Either way, Hope, still fueled with adrenaline, just couldn't sit still.

  "Would you stop pacing for a minute?" Edmund begged, his voice as dry as his tone. He rubbed his cheek, which didn't do much to help all of the dirt and diminutive scratches on his face. He pondered how bad he looked. Compared to Hope, he reckoned he must look like hell, too. "You're making me dizzy just watching you."

  His deep brown eyes were tired, but concern lied deep within them. His gaze followed the pacing handmaid, like a pendulum, as he sat in the soft grass, knees bent and spine curved. They were camped out near the Dancing Lawn, with Phillip, who was exhausted from his long journey, sleeping not too far away from them.

  Ignoring his plea, Hope queried, "Are we actually married? What if Queen Titania was just taking the piss? I mean, you said fairies are famous for their mischief!"

  Edmund poked at the crumbled-up parchment beside them, only now noticing the dirt underneath his nails. With a grimace, he imparted, "I'm not well-versed in fairy spells, but... this one looks legitimate to me."

  "Well, maybe it's, like, invalid in other kingdoms. Like-Like, we're only married in Pine Hollow?"

  He paused, entertaining the thought briefly. "Perhaps, but..." he lingered, mumbling to himself as he thought aloud. "...But if you were married in England... surely, you'd still be considered married in the states..." She had no idea what he was talking about, but it didn't sound good.

  Finally, she stopped pacing, her chest heaving up and down and eyes falling upon the silhouette of the trees. It was a gloomy evening, one where the moon was in hiding and all that was left to illuminate the land were a few stars and the small fire Edmund started not too long ago. She attempted to run a hand through her tangled hair, giving up halfway through, and openly declared, "Great! This is great!"

  "Hope—"

  "We're married," she interrupted. The words didn't make sense to her, whether they were in her head or on her tongue. "We're really married. I'm supposed to be a quiet handmaid. Now, I'm a handmaid and a homewrecker! Lion's Mane, I'm only 16 and my life's over! I'm going to be sentenced to death no matter what I do—!"

  Edmund rose from where he sat, intervening, "You know I wouldn't let that happen." He approached her, his legs aching from fatigue.

  "It doesn't matter!" Hope argued with a tired voice, distress lining her face. "Forget Odette, think about King David and Queen Lydia! They won't pardon something like this. And what about your siblings? Do you honestly think they would care about the fate of one handmaid, one they've only known for a month?"

  "Yes!"

  Silence. Then, she bitterly noted, "Your morals are questionable, Edmund." She shook her head. "I shouldn't have come. I told you I shouldn't come, but you insisted—!"

  "It's my fault, it's your fault, it's Titania's fault! Who cares? It's already happened, so there's no use in pointing fingers now!" he asserted. "You're forgetting, we don't exactly have to tell anyone!"

  Eyebrows furrowed, she cried, "Are you mad?! Oh, so now you want me to add liar to the list of things I'm going to be seized and executed for!" Counting on her fingers, she listed, "Let's see, we have: worst best friend on the planet, homewrecker, liar, and traitor!" Maybe if she wasn't so fired up, she would've noticed how he faltered at her words. "Shall we add anything else? Do you have any other bright ideas, Edmund?!"

  He didn't speak, only allowing her to rant for as long as she needed. That was something he learned from dealing with his sisters: just let her have her moment, let her rant until there's nothing left to be said, until she's gasping for oxygen and red in the face. In the end, she'll feel so much better.

  Frantically, she ranted, "You realize you're asking me to stand by my best friend, the only family I have left, the future Queen of Narnia, and lie to her for the rest of our lives, right? In what world does that make this situation any better, any more desirable whatsoever?" Her hands went to her face, pushing against her temples. "Aslan, we're really married!"

  Edmund wavered. Then, he lamely joked, "You said that already." She didn't laugh. In fact, she looked even more irritated than before.

  "Yeah, I did! Because I can't believe it!" she hopelessly snapped. "Why are you so bloody calm right now?!"

  His eyebrow quirked upward. "You think this is calm?" he repeated, dumbstruck. "How do you reckon I feel? I'm supposed to be getting married to save an entire kingdom next week! I'm just as shocked as you are! But they don't call me the Emotional, they call me the Just. And I'm trying to live up to that and use my judgment to help us, but you freaking out isn't helping anyone!"

  Hope clenched her jaw. Fair point.

  "Well, can you blame me?" she fired back. "The worst thing I've ever done is not say "Bless you" after someone's sneezed! How do you expect me to not freak out?!"

  "Easy! All you have to do is let me handle it!"

  She scoffed again. "Let you handle it? Oh, you mean like how you handled Queen Titania back there? What the hell was that, by the way?"

  He pinched the bridge of his nose, agitated. "I've heard about wars breaking out over pixie dust, wars that Oberon and Titania have been involved in. If we would've told her our intentions with a future queen, who knows how she would've taken it! We could've accidentally started a war between Narnia and the fairies! I was being cautious!"

  "And you didn't think to, oh, I don't know, tell me that sooner?"

  "I didn't think of it until then!"

  "You didn't think of it?" she echoed. "So because you didn't think, I'm going to die! Your judgment is as lovely as ever!"

  Edmund swallowed an exasperated sigh. He had to remind himself that she had a right to be upset. He needed to push his ego aside, even if he despised getting yelled at and being told he was wrong.

  "I'm sorry," he apologized. "You have every right to be furious—"

  "Ah, yes, thank you for the permission, Eddie, really!"

  He was beginning to notice the result of spending so much time with her, and he couldn't decide if he was proud or a little hurt at her sharp tone. Sarcasm didn't suit the usually sweet girl.

  Ignoring her, he promised, "—but I'm going to get you through this. Alive." He noticed the skepticism in her emerald eyes. "Come on, have I let you down before?"

  "...Are you joking?" she retorted. "You're asking me that after we just—"

  "Okay, I'll admit, that wasn't my finest moment," he cut in. His voice was gentler this time, somewhat soothing Hope. Seeing her relax caused him to, as well. "Hey, aren't you supposed to be the optimist here?"

  She sighed, cheeks puffing outward as she sunk onto the ground. She laid back, her head flattening the blades of grass. "I don't know," she muttered, listening as he sat beside her. "Everyone else thinks so. People think I'm an optimist, but in reality, I just hate seeing people upset."

  Slouched, Edmund stared at her as she gazed up at the inky black sky. "You know, a little bird once told me that sometimes, we're supposed to do bad things. Otherwise, all the good things we end up doing won't mean as much." A quiet laugh that sounded more like another scoff left her lips. But he just chuckled. "There's that smile we know and love."

  Shaking her head, she stated, "You're an idiot, Edmund Pevensie."

  He glanced up at the sky, too, snorting, "I'm just trying to offer you moral support, but apparently, I have questionable morals, so—"

  He started to snicker at his joke, only to feel something lightly hit his cheek. He glanced back at her, surprised. "Did you just hit me?"

  Hope rolled her eyes, forcing herself to sit up. "I flicked you," she corrected with a tiny smile. "Don't worry, it won't bruise your precious face."

  She couldn't deny it; she liked how comfortable she felt with him. She liked that she could be authentic to herself without fearing for her life. She was accustomed to keeping every little thing bottled up, so when he encouraged her to speak freely, she worried that maybe she forgot how to. But then he kept encouraging her and she realized that she didn't forget how to speak, she was merely afraid to. Somehow, he made her feel like everything would be okay. He made her feel unstoppable. Did he know that? Did he know of his effect on her?

  He did. He could almost see the years of tension in her shoulders relieve itself every time he made her smile, and knowing that he was doing some good for once, he felt like the sky was the limit. She made him feel like that.

  A grin crept onto his face, but before he could speak, she softly muttered, "I'm sorry. For blowing up on you. I shouldn't have yelled at you." She sighed. "You... technically didn't do anything wrong."

  "Don't be sorry," he insisted. "I... sort of ruined your life."

  She stifled a bitter laugh. "Yeah, I guess I ruined yours, too."

  "Then, we're even. No need for apologies from anyone," he said. "Who would've thought an arranged marriage would end up like this?"

  Through a yawn, she agreed, "Right? A princess from a dying kingdom gets forced into marrying an idiot Narnian King, and somehow, her handmaid, who already has a stupid crush on him accidentally gets married to him instead. Well, how about that? I'm sure Aslan's laughing at us wherever he is. Hey, do you think he plans this kind of thing our or—?"

  "Wait," Edmund interrupted. His eyes were suddenly wide, eyebrows furrowed. "What... What did you just say?"

  Hope wavered, recounting her words. And it was at that moment, she realized what she'd done.

  Her entire body tensed, and suddenly, she wasn't so tired anymore. Adrenaline retreated to her as her heart pulsated in her ears. "U-Uh, when? What part?" she inquired nervously.

  When Edmund resorted to silence, fear overtook the handmaid. How could she have gone this far without making her crush blatantly obvious? she'd even survived a surprise wedding, and she didn't bat an eye! Oh, Aslan, she was an idiot!

  Little did she know, he wasn't mad, nor was he upset. He was simply shocked, astounded, but beneath his surprise lied something else. He wasn't thinking about Odette and the wedding, not even the lecture he'd get when his siblings inevitably discovered the truth. He wasn't considering the political nightmare Narnia would get sucked into if anyone heard about his surprise marriage. No, all that trekked through his mind was a strange little thing called clarity.

  Oddly enough, it just made sense to him. Not the part where Hope liked him, but rather, the part where he liked her.

  After all, they'd spent three months together, sometimes daily, from dawn until dusk, talking and laughing and making stupid faces at the things King David or Peter would say. He was with her more than his own fiancée, perhaps because he was always going out of his way to find her when he had a moment to spare. He always looked forward to seeing her, and sometimes, whenever he was with Odette, he was wishing he was with Hope instead.

  "You... You like me back?" he asked.

  He wasn't thinking about it any longer. He didn't want to think about it. That was all he ever did—think. Maybe it'd get him in more trouble than before and maybe he should just pretend she didn't say anything, but he didn't want to. He just wanted to do something for himself, not Narnia, not Wysteria, not his siblings, not Aslan, just himself.

  Hope felt like she couldn't breathe. "I... Wait, hold on, what?" she demanded.

  Surprisingly, a smile pulled at his lips, desire swirling in his stare. "I-I like you, too," he confessed. But she didn't reply, silently reaching up and pressing her hands to his forehead, then his cheeks. "What are you doing?"

  "Checking if you're running a fever!"

  This time, he allowed himself to laugh as he gently pushed her hands away from his face. "I'm not sick!"

  "Then, you must've hit your head back there or-or one of the fairies cursed you or something," stammered Hope. "Maybe it was the spell we recited or—?"

  "Are you sure you didn't hit your head?" he teased.

  "I'm being serious!" she helplessly disputed. "It's gotta be adrenaline, right? That's what's making you say things you don't mean, right? I-I mean, you don't like me. It doesn't make sense. No, I would've noticed it before now."

  He eyed her, clearly amused. "I mean this in the least offensive way, but you're quite oblivious to what's in front of you sometimes," he taunted.

  "I think I would notice it if someone liked me—"

  "Is that why your first reaction after I admitted that I like you was to check if I was ill?"

  Oh, how badly she wanted to wipe that smirk off of his face. Still, Hope wasn't letting up.

  "I'm just trying to be realistic!" she defended. She hated how he was just staring at her, clearly entertained. Surely, he couldn't tell how badly she was blushing, right? "Besides, actions speak louder than words, so you obviously don't like me!"

  Edmund's eyes suddenly lit up. Smirking, he asked, "Alright, how about this one?"

  "What are you talking about—?"

  Without warning, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her.

  At first, her eyes widened, like the wind was knocked out of her lungs. But if there was one thing she knew at that moment, aside from the denial and the shock and the worry, it was that she didn't want to fight it. Aslan, she'd been fighting these feelings for so long, trying (and failing miserably) to push them away.

  So when they pulled away after a second, Hope couldn't help that all she could say was, "Fuck it," before kissing Edmund again.

  She melted into his touch, leaning back onto the grass again. Kissing him was intoxicating, something she'd never felt before, like the energies of a thousand lives were on their lips and their souls had known each other all along.

  And just before she could forget that the world was still turning and there was a terrible predicament in their laps, Hope suddenly pulled away, almost pushing Edmund off of her. "Lion's Mane, what are we doing?!" she exclaimed.

  Catching his breath, Edmund still had it in him to sass her. "Well, when two people really like each other, they—"

  "Edmund!"

  "Hey, you asked!"

  "You know that's not what I meant, you doorknob!" she whined, forcing herself to sit up.

  Edmund propped himself onto his elbows, unable to conceal the smile on his lips. "Hey, you were the one who said I'm not a king and have no real responsibilities until we get back," he reminded her. When she glared at him, he sighed. "Bad time for jokes?"

  "Oh, I'm glad your brain's still working," she commented. Eyebrows pinched, she questioned, "Why would you do that?"

  He paused, shrugging. "I... just wanted to do something that felt right in the moment. No thinking about it in advance, no contemplating the consequences, no asking Peter what he thinks, no conferences, none of that. I haven't done anything like that in so long, I just..." Hee sighed. "Everyone wants me to be a king, but I'm still a kid. I'm a teenager, with likes and dislikes and interests. I should be allowed to do what I want and live the way I want to. Why can't I go and kiss the girl I like without worrying about what happens next?"

  Empathy glimmered in her eyes. "Because," she replied, "you're a king, whether you like it or not. You and I, you especially, have responsibilities and people to take care of."

  He frowned. "It's not fair."

  "Life isn't fair, Edmund," she softly told him. "You're supposed to be a king. You're supposed to go home to Odette, your queen, who likes you a lot. That's just the way things are."

  Edmund's gaze flickered between her lips and her eyes. "And what if things were different? What if I didn't have to marry her?" he gently asked. "What if we could be together instead?" When she faltered, he continued, "I know you feel it, too. When we're together, I mean. When we talk, I feel like I've known you my entire life. Everything about you just makes sense to me. I can't get you out of my head half the time. Not Odette, you. I just want to be with you."

  She wondered if it was obvious she was desperately trying to fight off the swarm of butterflies in her stomach.

  She was silent, struck with disbelief. She should've been jumping up and down with glee, thanking Aslan for having a crush on someone who actually liked her back. But instead, all she could do was think about the imminent terror that resided in her near future.

  "You know it can't work."

  "But you want it to," he pointed out, his voice stained with a tone she couldn't quite identify, perhaps one that was hopeful, yet cynical at the same time. It wasn't a question, it was a fact. And he was right.

  Barely above a whisper, she revealed, "Yeah. I do. I can't lie to you, no matter how badly I want to." She paused. "But... Odette... and-and Wysteria—"

  "Let's just," started Edmund, "let's just think about that in the morning." She started to argue, but he beat her. "Please?"

  She relaxed again, donning a weak smile. "Okay." She laid beside him again, and together, they looked up at the dark skies with a sort of hopeless fire burning through their spirits. Her hands rested on her stomach as it moved up and down rhythmically. "You realize we've just made this whole situation 100 times worse, right?"

  This time, Edmund chuckled. "You know, normal people don't jump straight into marriage when they like each other."

  "But we're not normal," she softly bantered.

  "No, no, we're normal," he assured. "We're just a pair of idiots."

  "That's one way to put it," she quipped. "You think we should send a thank you card to Queen Titania?" She smiled at the sound of his somber laughter.

  "Maybe, but it'll have to be after our honeymoon in hell."

  "Aslan's gonna get a kick out of this when he finds out what we did."

  "Understatement of the century."

  Neither of them wanted to think about what was going to happen next. She never would've thought things would turn out the way they did, and somehow, they got worse and worse and worse. But at the very least, they had each other.

  Or, maybe they didn't. That was the problem, wasn't it? They could never be together or have each other the way they wished, even when their souls were tied and their hearts yearned for each other. You'd think they would be together, but despite it making perfect sense, they couldn't. They never could.

  That seemed to be a reality that existed only in their dreams.