LOWBORN : Edmund Pevensie

31

It is the anniversary of the day of my birth, and I decide to spend it in the library rather than going to train on the fields. The areas where people usually spar have begun to see the grass recede. The ground is turning to mud, which will cake onto people's boots. One of the first things the tailor's made for me when I agreed to train was shoes. However, I am not keen to soil them.

Soon, they will be stained with blood, if I fight or if I remain inside and help heal.

I pick the book of Lumorian folklore off the shelf and find a cozy spot on the second floor. In the chair, I begin to read. It reminds me of my mother. I never knew the struggles she underwent while alive. It still to this day surprises me that I am the daughter of the king. I see no part of him in me. Instead, I see my mother, and the stories she told.

"There you are!" a voice calls from somewhere inside the library.

I shut my book and look towards the sound. Across the way, on the opposite side of the room yet still on the same floor as me, Evangeline has her hands on her hips. She is wearing formal clothing, which I have did not realize she even owned here. It must be a gift from Lucy. Light pink, which would look perfect with her blonde hair but clashes against the harsh copper of her dyed locks.

"I have been searching for you high and low throughout the entire castle!" Evangeline exclaims. She moves over and reaches me. "Come."

"You look lovely," I tell her.

"Ornia had it made for me," she tells me. "It took three weeks, what with the war and all."

It does not surprise me that Evangeline made the seamstress procure the materials for such an elaborate dress, but what does surprise me is how quickly all of that took. A good gown can take months to make. My ballgown took such a short amount of time as well, so I suppose I should not be surprised.

She embraces me, pulling me back into a hug. "I was hoping I would be able to ask her for another, to celebrate your birthday. Unfortunately, she did not have the time."

I smile, pulling back. After I find the spot where the book of Lumorian folklore belongs and I return it, we head deep into the castle. She leads me out into a courtyard, where there is a blanket set up on the ground, as well as a woven basket.

"I thought we should celebrate," she smiles. "Your birth, I mean."

"How lovely," I say, and I mean it.

We have always celebrated our birthdays together. Mine before hers, as I am the older of us two sisters. We did not know this at the time. Evangeline has changed much in the past few months, so I was not expecting a celebration after last summer.

We used to be equals in her eyes, however erroneous her thinking at the time may have been. Then, in Narnia, the difference between us became stark. Now, once more, we are on the same level. This time, her beliefs are correct.

We sit down on the blanket, and I can feel how soft the cotton is. She pours me a glass of wine, and I take the goblet between my fingers. Raising it to my lips gives me pause. She has no reason to have poisoned it, but she could have. The thought petrifies me. I know better than anyone else to drink first.

We clink our goblets together, in celebration, and then I watch as she brings the goblet to her painted lips, sipping. I copy her movements, finally taking in the wine. It is fruity and sweet, like blueberries.

"You know, this is more than any cause to celebrate," she points out. "There were many points this year where I had imagined that we would not see the end of the summer through."