With Courage [King Caspian X OC]

Chapter 23

Caspian's words played on repeat in her head. Then I quite like it.

She fought the urge to call him Cas again if only to enjoy his reaction. Instead, she passed over the bottle and reluctantly watched the pink flush recede from his neck as they fell into a rhythm of drinking in amicable quiet once more.

The moment had unseated her. Rather than thinking about why she had come here in the first place – to check that he was alright and not closing himself off again, to make him smile – her mind had drifted to dangerous territory. The brush of his fingers against her own as they passed the bottle back and forth. The slightest mark of his bottom lip against the rim, visible only in the second before she drank. How Caspian, rather unsubtly, kept stealing glances at her. Yes – she was doing the same thing, hence why she caught him time and time again, but that was beside the point.

From above they heard a roar of song as the entire crew joined in for another verse. Amber smiled, humming along clumsily with only the barest understanding of the melody at play. The whiskey made her body feel liquid, the world soft at the edges.

Caspian cleared his throat and threw another look in her direction. "Did you know there's a, ah..." he coughed again and continued, unusually nervous, "an immersive version of The Fool's Folly which involves the audience?"

"Like what they're doing now? I'd say Reepicheep using Marco's head as a springboard is pretty immersive."

He huffed a quick laugh. "Better. Well, more of a spectacle. They perform on a dais at the centre of a room, usually a ballroom, and have the audience dance through the show."

"How do you mean?"

He shuffled to face her properly before he explained, gesturing enthusiastically with his hands. "They're a part of the performance. The audience become revellers at the circus, wedding guests... The performers tend to work through or with them. I was once twirled around by Ilaria–"

"The singing bear?" She cut in. Marco had mentioned it to her earlier and Edmund, who was listening in to their conversation, equalled her to a Narnian Billie Holiday. High praise indeed. "I'd love to see that," she sighed wistfully, gazing into the middle distance. "I'm a terrible dancer though."

"Really?"

Her shoulders lifted in a shrug. "I never really had the opportunity." Life for her only had two purposes until now. She wanted to survive, and she wanted to find her parents. Everything else had been secondary to the point where any man who asked her to dance was little more than a wayward blot in the scenery of her life.

The space between them had shrunk. During their conversation they had turned in small, shuffling movements until they were both sat sideways – one arm leaning against the back of the sofa, knees almost touching in the middle, their feet dangling halfway to the floor. Amber lay her head in the palm of her hand and asked, "What about you?"

"Can I dance?" She nodded. There was a sheen to his eyes, a glassiness that made her smile. When was the last time either of them had allowed themselves to relax so completely? "Of course I can." He scoffed playfully.

"Well, there's no need to brag."

He jumped to wave that notion away. "I wasn't– I didn't mean... I could teach you." He inhaled with a judder, as if he hadn't expected himself to ask. Softly, he continued. "If you wanted, only I..."

"How brave of you to volunteer your toes to be stepped on."

Dancing with Caspian would be, in any other situation, a dangerous proposition. A freefall off a cliff, diving through a realm of possibility she didn't yet feel brave enough to face. But the room had taken on a pleasant fuzziness, her body floating impermanently through its waters, and she found that the idea of falling didn't sound that bad at all.