Edmund could feel the sunlight on his eyelids before he opened them. Dawn came early in summer, true, but it was still rare for him to sleep so late that the sun had risen high enough to wake him. He couldn't stay in bed long, of course. There were responsibilities, even on a day of rest. He pushed back the dark green curtains and swung his legs out of bed.
"King Edmund!" He heard a voice from the other room almost immediately, followed by a patter of hooves on carpeted stone. "Queen Susan said you were not to leave your bed until the healers pronounced you recovered!"
For a moment, Edmund blinked, clearing away dreams from his mind. Then he smiled at the anxious faun. "I'm feeling quite well, Paulus," he said, standing up with a bit of a bounce to prove it.
"But, Your-" Paulus began.
"And I promise I'll answer to Her Majesty myself," he added, opening the chest at the foot of his bed. It never failed to amuse Edmund the awe with which his valet - among others - regarded Edmund's elder sister. Despite her reticence to enter the fray herself, the Gentle Queen had a reputation of one who could sway armies. Edmund suspected it was their horror of disappointing her. Susan was an artist with a mild rebuke.
Paulus's awe of Queen Susan could not stand up to his professional pride, however. If his king insisted on leaving his rooms, the faun would make quite sure Edmund did his valet credit. There would be no wrinkles or stains on his shirt or doublet - "Must you get ink on every sleeve, Your Majesty?" - and absolutely no torn hose. Once dressed, Edmund collected a book from his bedside for return to the library.
"King Edmund." Archimedes received the volume with a reverence meant (Edmund was nearly certain) entirely for the book and took it back to his desk, already flipping worriedly through the pages.
"Record notes in the margin of one old tome and never live it down," Edmund murmured, making his way to his favorite alcove.
The two men seated in the alcove looked up with amusement. "I've found," said the elder and taller, "that archivists tend to view their role as protectors as much as aides to study."
"True, Lord Digory," replied the half-dwarf across from him. "But in justice to our friend Archimedes, it is too easy for such records to be lost and the knowledge they contain lost with them, if care is not taken, and we know what trouble comes from losing our history."
"But don't you think, Dr. Cornelius…"
Edmund smiled and moved away, leaving the two scholars to their debate. If he were quick, he might make the practice field before Susan noticed that he was out of bed.
Peter was in the courtyard as expected, overseeing a practice duel between Lune's sons and Reepicheep. For all his lack of early training, Cor had taken to the sword like a natural, watchful and alert and seizing every opportunity. Corin was the first to be disarmed, rushing at the Chief Mouse with characteristic impulsiveness. He huffed when Reepicheep finally bested his twin brother. "Box me, and see how well you do," he scoffed.
"After breakfast," said Peter. "Reep, see the princes to the garden. Queen Susan and Queen Lucy are waiting." Corin brightened out of his sulk at this. Edmund suspected him of having something of a crush on Lucy. A child's fancy he would grow out of, more harmless than the older suitors who flocked to Cair Paravel.
"Certainly, High King." Reepicheep bowed, flourishing his rapier as he did so. "Come, lads," he called. "One never keeps a lady waiting."
Edmund smiled after them, then turned to his older brother. "Well, Magnificent, how about a proper match before we dine?"
Hard riding could get Edmund to Lantern Waste in two and a half days, but he wasn't in so much of a hurry as that. The hills and woods of Narnia were worth lingering over, even when - especially when he had an inkling as to what this all was. It was too idyllic. Too perfect. Too exactly what he longed for in foggy corners of his mind.
It wasn't real. It couldn't be, when Aslan had decreed he wasn't to return.
But he still paused for a survey of the Southern Vale with Lady Pomona, still stopped in for tea at the dam of Mr and Mrs. Beaver, and challenged Mr. Tumnus to a game of chess before moving on. Eventually - he had to - he reached the grove of trees, shrouding the iron pillar. It wasn't the lamppost that took his attention, but the voluminous dark gold mane and the burning eyes.
Edmund dismounted, patted his horse's flank, and bowed without looking away from those eyes. "Sir."
"My dear son." The words washed over him, neither commendation nor condemnation, just recognition.
Edmund breathed deeply and acknowledged it aloud at last. "I know I have to go back," he said. "I just wanted to see you first."
The leaves above them trembled in the still afternoon, but the deep voice was gentle. "And do you need to see me to know that I am with you, my son?"
It was the kind of rebuke that did not sting, but a rebuke, nonetheless. "No, Aslan," Edmund murmured. He paused, then, and admitted, "Sometimes." Even if he were not trying to be honest, there were lies he couldn't tell. "I'm ready."
Through the trees beyond them, he could see the rectangle of light - not the dusty haze of the spare room of the Professor's long-destroyed mansion, but something brighter and less clear.
Edmund could feel the brush of the sheets and see the light through his eyelids before he opened his eyes on Medical. He could remember New York and SadTech, the memory lapses and the sleeping curses - from one of which he suspected he had just awoken.
Returning home - truly home, not the England which had nothing more for him anyway - was no nightmare, but it had been a trap all the same. How long had he been caught in it?