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WALKING IN THE WIND
xxi. NO NEED TO SAY GOODBYE

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  QUEEN OF THE PEOPLE.

  Hope was given several new titles now that the war was over, but this one was appointed to her by the citizens of Narnia themselves. The title swept through the reborn kingdom in the hours that descended after the coronation. It seemed that it would stick as evening emerged and the festivities began. One of which Hope somehow managed to pull together after inventing the idea just three days ago: a lantern festival for the fallen Narnians.

  It was impossible to know every name of every person who passed in the war or those who fell to the Telmarines over the years. Hearing the stories of the commoners made Hope very alert to this, and it was how she came up with the idea for the festival. The evening of the coronation, all the Narnians and Telmarines alike came together to light a festival in honor of someone. Anyone! A loved one that had passed, a stranger who sacrificed their life, a soldier lost to battle.

  It became quickly known as the Festival of Stars, in honor of the Bright Queen's namesake. May every lantern guide each lost soul to follow the stars into Aslan's Country.

  And so, the Festival of Stars became the first of many new traditions introduced to the Narnians, thus leading Hope to gain the new nickname of Queen of the People.

  She lit her lantern in honor of the little family she knew in Wysteria. The servants, the commoners. Part of her missed them dearly. The other part was relieved knowing they were free from King David's rule. Their spirits could finally rest at ease. As her lion-branded lantern glided into the heavens, Hope held them to her heart closest.

  The celebratory ball commenced shortly after the festival, but Hope found herself alone on the balcony outside. The party hummed behind her. Harmonies of strings and laughter and spilled drinks joined as one, warming her spirit on that cool evening.

  In Narnia, the sky seemed so much bigger. No matter how far she gazed into the midnight, speckles of glistening lanterns acted as constellations of their own as they floated into oblivion.

  The door behind her squeaked open. She nearly looked over her shoulder, but once she heard his footsteps, she already knew who had found her.

  "Your Majesty," Edmund greeted, giving her a gracious bow.

  Hope gently shoved his shoulder. "Oh, shut up."

  He snickered, leaning against the railing. The light of the party couldn't quite reach them. The dusk disguised their figures. Only the twinkle of their matching silver crowns signaled their location if anyone was watching in the distance. Up close, Edmund studied her while she watched the sky, squinting at what remained of the lanterns.

  Without looking at him, Hope said, "£10 says I run Narnia into the ground by Tuesday."

  And without skipping a beat, Edmund replied, "I'll give you 20 if you start another war with the fairies by Sunday."

  Hope laughed. She extended an arm, giving his sleeve a little tug to come closer. "I don't think I'll be able to move from this spot until morning," she said, gesturing to the sky.

  More specifically, she was referring to the brightest star gracing the night sky. The moon was Odette's, and the brightest star right beside it was Hope's. Always together, never too far from the other. It was why she wanted to be outside rather than enjoying the party. She couldn't stop gaping at the star that Aslan named after her as a coronation gift.

  "You might get cold," Edmund said, even though he was admiring it, too. He wondered if he would be able to see it from England—if he ever went back.

  "I have a question," Hope suddenly announced. "But it feels childish, so I almost don't want to ask."

  He focused on his breathing for as long as her fingers traced the intricate detailing of his sleeve. It was almost stupid how giddy she made him feel. He completely missed what she said until her hand fell away, and the words finally registered.

  Still, he didn't reply. He watched her, eyebrows coming together. If she looked, she'd know the cogs in his head were turning, the way they always did whenever he was asked to entertain a political dispute or piece of legislation all those years ago. But his shoulders fell when she finally spat out the words.

  "Edmund, why... why do you love me, exactly?" Hope asked. Her eyes closed, gathering her focus, or perhaps her courage. One or the other. "I just— You said it like... you were sure of it. I know it's stupid to ask. But, I just... how can you be so certain that you love me when you've lived so many lives in so many worlds? How do you not resent me a little bit?"

  Edmund blinked. "Resent you? Why would I...?"

  "Because marriage is a contract. Maybe it won't always be that way, but in our world, it is." She sighed. "I just keep thinking... what if there was someone out there for you, exactly your perfect fit, and you couldn't... you couldn't..." She huffed through her nose, frustrated with herself. "What if your person was out there, somewhere in England or Narnia or wherever you end up, and you couldn't let yourself fall for them because of our soul-binding vow?"

  Of all the ways he could wit his way through debates and squabbles, Edmund decided to take his time for once. Instead of answering her, he asked, "Why do you think?"

  That made Hope's eyes open again. She looked at him. "What?"

  "Why do you think I love you?"

  "I-I don't know."

  "Try," Edmund encouraged. He gestured to himself. "Read me."

  "I don't know." She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "You don't pity me... You don't loathe me... You've always been kind to me, even when you're a complete moron about it. You're patient enough that you might be pranking me, but you've never thought of me as a joke either. So, it was an accident, then? Right?"

  "I don't think decades of this feeling can be considered an accident," Edmund said. He touched the crown on her head, straightening it, then tracing his finger down one of her curls. "Being the middle child, I'm often forgotten, you know. Peter's the oldest. Lucy's the baby. Susan's the mother hen. I've always thought of myself as the black sheep out of us four. I didn't think I really belonged with them. I thought I was too different. Too much. No one ever saw me."

  Hope did everything she could to stay still, hold her breath, if only to keep his hand in her hair a moment longer. She whispered, "I see you."

  He smiled. "I love you because you see all of me. I never need to explain myself to you, not really. You see everything I am, and you don't run away. You embrace me. You listen. You're patient. I grew up in the quietest corners of my childhood home alone stupidly thinking that was peace until I met you."

  Her heart lurched, but she couldn't bring herself to speak. Another red curl coiled around his index finger.

  "Being the Just, it's easy to adopt a pessimistic perspective on life. Every day during our rule, I could find reasons to worry over anything. I couldn't help it, it came with the territory of the name. My strength is being calculated, rational. Logic reveals everything to be as true and raw as it can be," Edmund went on. "And then I met you, and I felt myself become the boy I was before Narnia. The one that was quiet, misunderstood, forgotten. The boy that favored mischief because it made people look at him when no one ever really did."

  The thrum of the party seemed more distant now. In the quiet, it was only them, their kindred spirits.

  He added, "I knew I was in trouble when you barreled into me the day we met, and I found myself more amused than annoyed. And when you laughed, and I found myself listening because I wanted to remember it in case I never heard it again. It's silly how my judgment slips from me when I'm around you. I mean, I've heard your laugh so many times since then, and I know I'll hear it again, but every time I hear it..." His eyes closed for a moment, the corners of his mouth flicking upward. "I compare every person I meet to you without intending to. Even when I thought you were dead, I kept looking for you in every stranger I met because I thought I could find the next best thing. Someone that was close enough."

  "Edmund—" Hope tried, but she didn't know what she wanted to say.

  "I just don't see how it could be anyone else," Edmund admitted. "I didn't need fairy dust to be completely enchanted by you from the beginning. That is my truth. It doesn't matter how much you believe it because I've always been the Just, and I only ever believe what is concrete."

  Hope's face was warm and sort of ached from how hard she was smiling. And she wanted to say those words. But Edmund was always better with words than her. Her mouth opened—

  "I already know," Edmund interrupted. Because he was observant. He was the Just. His judgment was seldom wrong.

  "Such a know-it-all," Hope taunted.

  "I can't help that I'm brilliant."

  "You're insufferable, and I love you, too."

  "I just told you, I know."

  "Oh, sorry. I can take it back if you want—"

  "No, no, I don't think that's how that works," Edmund laughed, pulling her in and kissing her, keeping one hand on her crown to stop it from falling. "But you should say it again."

  Only because she liked his smile so much, she indulged him once more. And maybe twice... or thrice more. But no more than that. Because Edmund's head would soon grow bigger than Peter's—which Hope made sure to say loud enough for Peter to hear. One by one, the Pevensies, Odette, and Caspian joined them on the balcony.

  The rest of the evening was filled with their laughter and chatter and even a bit of dancing, and Edmund was relieved to know he would never be overlooked again.

  And even if he was, he only ever cared to feel the eyes of the Bright Queen on him anyway.

○ ○ ○

  In the afterglow of the festivities, Narnia was radiant the next morning. If Hope focused hard enough, she could still smell the lingering smoke from the fireworks show, taste the pastries baked in her honor, feel the ache in her feet from all the dancing she did. Actually, no, wait, her feet still ached right now. How dreadful. But at the same time, how wonderful. This was so much better than soreness from combat, after all.

  But there was much to be done. There always was. As an era of darkness came to its conclusion, next came the sun to reveal every last ash to be swept away. First, the High Kings and Queens were called to a gathering outside the castle.

  A glorious oak tree with a curved trunk split Narnia's leaders. To one side, stood the Pevensies. To the other, there was Aslan, Glenstorm, Trumpkin, Dr. Cornelius—Caspian's tutor, Reepicheep, Trufflehunter, and Bulgy Bear. Caspian, Hope, and Odette stepped forward to address their people.

  "Narnia belongs to the Narnians, just as it does to man," Caspian declared. "Any Telmarines who want to stay and live in peace are welcome to. But, for any of you who wish, Aslan will return you to the home of our forefathers."

  "Wysteria?" a woman from the crowd wondered.

  "Not quite," said Odette. "It is true that Telmar ascended from the ashes of Wysteria, but it is not their true homeland."

  "It's been generations since we left Telmar," one Lord argued.

  "We're not referring to Telmar," said Aslan. "Your ancestors were seafaring brigands, pirates run aground on an island. There, they found a cave, a rare chasm that brought them here from their world. The same world as our kings and queens."

  The lion gestured to the Pevensies. The eldest pair of the four seemed withdrawn, troubled, yet somehow calm. A bittersweet gleam shone in their eyes for a reason Hope wasn't sure of. She hadn't spoken much to the Pevensies that morning. Odette was keen on creating some sort of friendship between the three Telmar-Wysterian rulers now that the war was over.

  After breakfast, Hope had seen Aslan speaking to Peter and Susan in private. Now, she was pondering whether that conversation had anything to do with their current expressions.

  "It is to that island I can return you," Aslan announced. He was met with some hesitant glances from the people, however.

  "The world Telmar's forefathers came from is not quite as near as Narnia," Hope chimed. "It's only fair if we grant you all this opportunity to return to that island. Your ancestors stumbled upon Wysteria and Narnia by chance. While some of you may be adjusting to the changes in Narnia well, we want to offer those of you who are struggling to adjust the chance to begin a new life in the land your blood originates from. You deserve to take control of your lives as each of you sees fit. It is the least we can offer you all."

  Aslan nodded. "It is a good place for any who wish to make a new start."

  Odette caught Hope's eyes, which silently screamed, Holy shit, Aslan just agreed with me! To that, the blonde smiled.

  Hushed whispers ruffled through the crowd until Glozelle announced, "I will accept the offer." He stepped forward, bowing his head at Caspian, who reflected the gesture. Despite the crimson scab running down his face, he shined with faith.

  "So will we," Prunaprismia said next, carrying her newborn after him. Another Telmarine Lord joined the group after her.

  Aslan nodded. "Because you have spoken first, your future in that world shall be good." His lips parted, and he blew a gentle wind at them. Something in the air twitched, like magic was being sewn into their bones.

  With a long crack!, the tree behind them began to unwind. The crowd gasped, exclamations of amazement becoming muddled with one another. Now, Hope understood what Lucy meant all those days ago. The trees did dance, with swaying branches and rustling green leaves. The trunk twisted until it revealed a round opening in its center.

  There was no knob to turn, no lever to pull. If you looked through the opening, you could see the gorgeous vision that the awakened Narnia was, in all of its emerald and golden glory. But when the first group of volunteers stepped through the trunk, they vanished.

  The crowd was horrified.

  "Where did they go?" one called.

  "They killed them!" another yelled.

  "How do we know he is not leading us to our death?" shouted another.

  Hope nearly opened her mouth to tell them that she and Odette had survived a nightmare taxi ride while returning to Narnia, so the Telmarines that left probably wouldn't die on their way out. But that would only make the uproar worse, wouldn't it?

  "Sire," Reepicheep said to Aslan. "If my example can be of any service, I will take 11 mice through with no delay."

  But Peter and Susan exchanged glances, that famous language only a pair of siblings could ever understand.

  The Magnificent took a deep breath and stepped forward. "We'll go," Peter said.

  Hope's face fell.

  "We will?" asked Edmund. He couldn't help that his attention flitted to the Bright Queen.

  "Come on. Our time's up," Peter said. He approached the three newest rulers of the land, struggling to suppress a frown. He withdrew his beloved sword, Rhindon, and presented it to Hope. "After all... we're not really needed here anymore."

  "A-Are you sure?" Odette squeaked. "I feel like we could use you around here. We could screw something up for you to fix if you'd like."

  Susan cracked a weak smile. "Your mistakes are meant to help you grow, darling. They're not meant to be passed onto those who are wiser."

  Hope gawked at Rhindon. "Why are you...? Are you sure...?"

  "No one's ever taken care of this blade quite like you have," Peter insisted. He cleared his throat, trying to embody that Magnificent King that still existed somewhere deep inside him. "I think it's fitting, don't you? Narnia's Captain of the Royal Guard should possess a blade that suits her."

  Hesitant, she accepted it. "I'll take good care of it until you come back."

  "I'm afraid that's just it," said Susan. The line between her eyebrows deepened. "We're not coming back."

  Hope's grip tightened on Rhindon. "What?"

  "We're not?" asked Lucy, meek.

  "You two are," Peter promised, returning to his younger siblings. He glanced back at Aslan, hesitant. "At least, I think he means you two."

  "But why?" Lucy asked, eyes watering. "Did they do something wrong?"

  "Quite the opposite, dear one," Aslan revealed. "But all things have their time. Your brother and sister have learned what they can from this world. Now, it's time for them to live in their own."

  Hope's heart sank. This couldn't be happening. After all that... After all those years spent apart... After everything, they couldn't just leave. They couldn't just say goodbye! Not so soon, at least! She thought she had more time with them all. There was supposed to be more time to ride horses and drink tea and swap stories and laugh until their stomachs ached. And now, what, that was it? This was the extent of their reunion?

  "What about us?" Odette asked. "A-Are we... going back, as well? Because I'm going to need a day or two to readjust to animals not being able to talk anymore."

  "No, actually," mumbled Susan. "You and Hope have plenty more to learn from Narnia."

  "And a newborn kingdom to raise," Peter added. He approached the youngest Pevensie. "It's alright, Lu. It's not how I thought it would be, but... it's alright. One day, you'll see, too. Come on."

  One by one, the Pevensies approached their old friends. Standing before them, it became quickly evident how much time had passed since they all met. It was all in Glenstorm's final handshake, in Reepicheep's final bow to his favorite High King, even in Trumpkin's teary expression as he and Lucy hugged.

  Hope's chest was heaving by the time Peter made it to her. "I-I don't understand," she said. "That's it? I'm never going to see you again?"

  "It's unfortunate, really," Peter solemnly said. "Who else will I drag out of bed at midnight for a snack?" His smile returned when Hope's did as he pulled her in for a hug. With a kiss to the top of her head, Peter added, "So long as you're bound to my brother, you're bound to the rest of us. This isn't goodbye, as bittersweet as it feels. And when I see you again, I want to hear about every heroic adventure you have with my sword! Understood?"

  Hope laughed, despite the tears threatening to spill. She curtseyed. "Understood, Your Majesty. I hope you continue to follow your dreams in the other world. I think you'll make a fantastic doctor." To that, Peter's smile lifted more genuinely.

  From Odette, Lucy drifted to Hope next. The youngest latched onto her before either could say a word. Into her dress, Lucy squeaked, "Thank you. For everything. You're going to be an incredible queen. I know it."

  "Oh, I'll miss you, loony Lu," Hope sighed, tucking a piece of hair behind Lucy's ear. "I should be the one thanking you. You're the hero in our fairytales this time around, I'd say."

  Lucy blushed. "I... I hope I see you again."

  "You will," Hope promised, even though she wasn't feeling too confident about that. "And by then, you might finally be taller than me."

  Lucy left her the way Hope wanted to remember her, giggling quietly, braid brushing down her back in the breeze.

  When Susan approached her next, the two stood apart for a moment. They stared at one another, unspoken until, at last, Susan clicked her tongue and extended her arms. "Oh, come here," Susan said. Her hug was tighter than Hope was expecting, but she embraced it, squeezing herself into the Gentle Queen. "I'm going to miss you loads. And your tea! Goodness, it'll be the first thing I ask from you when we see each other again."

  "When," Hope echoed, frail. "I like the sound of that. I'll see you again soon. Even the radiant southern sun is a star, you know."

  "We'll be closer than we think, then," Susan said before moving onto Odette, at last.

  And so, that left Hope with one last Pevensie to say goodbye to. Edmund was watching her, waiting. She rarely saw his eyebrows so furrowed, his mouth pressed into such a firm line. He was trying to think of what to say. She could see it in the depths of his brown eyes.

  It was Peter who broke their silence. He placed a hand on his younger brother's shoulder, eyes glazing over as he looked into the horizon. "In life—"

  "Don't," Edmund interrupted before Peter went into some patronizing esoteric speech about life and love. Peter gave a gracious grin before shoving the Just King toward his wife.

  Standing before him, it was suddenly very apparent to her how little time they'd really shared together, how much time they were forced to spend apart. How many years would pass until she heard his voice again? Would she even be alive by then? 1,000 years in Narnia had passed since the Pevensies ruled, after all—

  "Get out of your head, dove," Edmund whispered. He brought his hand behind her head, pressing their foreheads together. "I'm still here."

  "How are you not more worried?" Hope whispered back. "What if—? I mean, I could be dead by the time you come back. Or old. Like, really, really old."

  "Oh, that's not so bad. You'd be a sweet old lady. You'd bake cookies and make tea for all your guests."

  She didn't mean to laugh at that. "Edmund! Not the point!"

  "Just wanted to hear that one more time," Edmund replied. He put some space between them and held her shoulders. He was trying to be cheeky, but it wasn't working. He kept frowning. "I thought we'd have more time."

  "We never do."

  "We have to be okay with that."

  "I don't want to be," said Hope, shaking her head. "I don't understand why we keep getting separated. I like how life feels when you're all here. Everything's so much more colorful."

  "I could say the same to you, my dove." Edmund thumbed a tear away as it slipped past her cheek. "But I'll see your face again. I know I will."

  She sniffled. "When did you become so positive?"

  Edmund forced a little smile. "Hey, I'm the Just. It's in my job description to always be right." He kissed her cheek. "I know you will always be kind and patient to everyone you meet, so I will ask you this one small favor. Don't let anyone make you feel small. Continue to be bold and brave, my Queen."

  Hope swallowed her cry, nodding. "If you're ever lost, find me in the stars. Maybe the sky between here and there isn't so far, after all."

  She started to pull away from him, but he wouldn't let her go just yet. He pulled her in by her forearm, and he kissed her, just one last time, softly. But one last time became one more, just one more as they kissed, one peck after another.

  "This isn't goodbye," Edmund said.

  "Sure feels like one," Hope muttered.

  "Well, if you're going to stand there all day, making out in front of the whole kingdom—" Peter suddenly called, causing Edmund to groan. He buried his blushing face into his wife's shoulder one more time, coiling her hair around his fingers, again, one more time.

  Hope took his face in her hands. It didn't matter that they were being watched. She allowed herself few luxuries in her life, and she would be damned if she let this last minute with Edmund not be one of them.

  "I'll see you soon," Hope said, memorizing his freckles before it was too late. "Promise."

  "A promise is a heavy burden," Edmund pointed out. "I'll be holding you to that."

  They laughed, then took their steps away, leaving their hands interlocked until the distance was too vast. Odette came to Hope's side, looping their arms. The Selfless Queen was holding her cheek with her other hand, where Susan had kissed her goodbye.

  One by one, the Pevensies fell into a line and exited through the tree.

  And all that remained were three new rulers, who had yet to anticipate their final lessons that Narnia had in store for them: working together.

  "Your Majesty!" a beaver shouted, rushing into the courtyard. She was holding a silver object, waving it frantically. "Is it too late? The Just King, he forgot this before leaving!"

  Hope took it in her grasp. Edmund's new torch. How he managed to forget it was beyond her.

  Hope shook her head, sniffling and laughing to herself. "That idiot," she muttered, then tucked it into her belt beside Rhindon.

  She would return it to her husband whenever she saw him again.

  It was a promise.

END OF ACT TWO;