AN ENCHANTER'S FORETELLING. [NARNIA]

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX | REVERIE

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
REVERIE

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She did not know what had possessed her to do such thing, she realized, as she raised her delicate china teacup to her pink lips. Because, it was merely the other day when Rose Lovell had the sudden impulse to kiss his cheek that night in the gardens. And the thought of it had been so overwhelming to her that she couldn't hear Susan Pevensie's voice as she told her tale of the dryads to the ladies sitting around the table; drinking tea and discussing many diverse topics of conversation.

It was because they had grown closer—since that night—that had made her overthink every single thing she had said or done to him thus far. And every single interaction of theirs had been one where there was so much tension in the air, that Rose couldn't bear it much longer. She did not know, but it made her wish to avoid Edmund Pevensie altogether; to not wish to see him because of what her heart might feel whenever he was around, or the little jump her fluttering heart made whenever anyone mentioned his name. But not only that, she wished to avoid him because of what might happen if she were to take it further than what a friendship required.

In other words, Rose did not wish to ruin the close friendship she shared with him because of a seemingly innocent crush that might dissipate in a month, or so.

They had grown so comfortable with one another that she did not wish to wreck it—all because she had misinterpreted his friendly actions towards her as (hopefully) something more. Because, it was during those days that despite the tension that slipped in the air between them, that she had grown friendlier than usual. Rose asked him about his day whenever she saw him, offered to help with many of his duties outside of his kingly ones, and even managed to find excuses to spend more time with the boy. And she even asked him more about certain books she'd seen him read, and suddenly noticed details about Edmund she hadn't before. She did not know what got in her!

Rose noticed the little scar on the palm of his hand as he read, the cut across his lip, the way he placed a finger on his chin when he was well deep in his thoughts; as well as the way he bit his lip whenever he did. She began to take notice in everything he did, in the small insignificant things, and hung to every word he ever said because—

"Rose, have you been listening all this time?" Susan Pevensie asked, as two other heads turned to look at her from across the round table. If it wasn't for the Queen's interruption, Rose wouldn't have ever realized she had been much too deep in her reverie to hear what she'd been saying.

Anne quipped in, "You look distracted; is there something on your mind?" She raised a soft teacup, blowing on it moments before taking a small sip.

The Lady placed her teacup on the saucer, a small smile playing on her lips as she, once-again, remembered what she'd been thinking. "No—well... yes," she said, "But it's not something to worry about. I was merely pondering over my duties left for tomorrow—but that is all." Yes, she lied, and she was not proud of it. But how on earth where you supposed to tell your bestest friends you were pondering over their dear brother, the Just King? She wouldn't know where to start anyway.