Soldier's Heart (a Narnia novella)

Chapter 8: Angels in Disguise

Spring faded to summer and summer to autumn. The flowers bloomed and closed, Easter came and went. The fauns danced on the summer solstice and Lucy dragged Edmund with her. She was nearly her old self again, the summer air filling her lungs and invigorating her limbs. She had her appetite back and her weight returned to normal. Every now and then she would cry out in the night and one of her siblings (or all of them) would rush to her bedside to comfort her, but the nightmares became less and less frequent with time. Peter hired a court physician who kept regular tabs on Lucy and Peridan made sure to record her progress in the back of his father's journal. She shied away from hunting parties, too scared to watch a creature suffer, and she had yet to rediscover her zeal for archery, but she didn't mind watching the good-natured matches her brothers and Peridan put on for themselves on long summer evenings.

But as those long evenings came to a draw and the air slowly became crisp, and the apple trees in the woods were ripening, a new excitement filled Lucy's bones. It was time for the harvest. And more—her 16th birthday.

Susan and Mrs. Beaver had been planning for weeks and Lucy could honestly say she had almost no idea what the festivities were to be. All she knew was that Susan and Mrs. Beaver were likely the best party planners in all of Narnia.

"Oh, and we must keep it autumnal themed," Susan was saying while scribbling something down on a piece of paper.

"Yes, and I'll make some of my famous breads. Very autumnal indeed. Pumpkin bread, perhaps?" Mrs. Beaver replied.

"Any type of bread you make would be lovely, Mrs. Beaver," Edmund cut in, having heard the mention of food as he was strolling past. "In fact, if you could have one of each, that would be ideal."

Susan whacked him with a tea towel, shooing him out of the room. Edmund stumbled into the Solar, laughing. Lucy and Peter watched with amusement.

"Those two are going to turn the whole castle into a cornucopia," Edmund said, plopping himself unceremoniously down on the floor.

"They certainly are very into this," Peter said with a smile. "But I suppose if it's for Lu we can put up with the fuss."

Lucy suppressed a grin. She always loved praise, but she was never sure if it was polite to show it. "When I told Susan I thought it was a bit extravagant, she argued that a girl only turns 16 once. But I wonder if there isn't a little more to all of this than that..." Lucy trailed off, her mind going elsewhere for a moment.

Peter squeezed her arm. "And so what if it is?" he said. "You've had a long six months. You deserve to be celebrated."

Lucy blinked back the tears that were starting to well in her eyes. "I'm just not certain I really deserve all of this as a response to, you know, when I—well, with what I did to Ahmit and all. It doesn't seem right to celebrate me because of his death."

"We aren't celebrating you because of his death. We're celebrating you because of your life."

"The only thing his death has to do with it," Edmund added. "Is that you have spent half a year grieving. And it's time you let yourself be happy."

"I am happy," Lucy argued. "I've had a lovely summer."

"You're missing the point."

"No, I'm not," Lucy said with a sigh, "I see the point. I'm just not convinced I agree. That's all."

"What's going on in here?" Peridan asked, walking in on the group. "Is this a pow-wow I wasn't invited to?"

"Per," Edmund said in a near whine, "tell Lucy that she's being irrational."