With Courage [Prince Caspian]

Chapter 13

I wake disorientated.

For a moment I forget everything. Where I am, what I'm doing, and even who I am to an extent.

Everything comes back slowly. If last night was an explosion, this morning was the immediate aftermath – air so thick with dust and smoke that you can barely see two feet ahead of you and all you know is the ringing in your ears. Slowly, it dissipates, and I'm left having to confront a new reality.

Because that's what this is now. New. Different. Irreversible. He knows the truth, and I know by that by having spoken it there's no way to force it back into the deep recesses of my mind. If you let a bear out of its cage, it would be a tall order to make him go back inside without a tranquilliser. The only suppressant I could use is in the bowels of the Dawn Treader, managed by men instructed to give me none after my... enthusiasm... during Coriakin's feast. Though the help would only be temporary, useful for poking a stick at the beast for a while, before it began another rampage. The cage is as good as gone.

I didn't even have to tell him everything for it to raid my mind like a tornado. He knows I'm alone with a family who care nothing for me out in the world, but I'm not sure I could mention the rest. The five year search for them. The places I travelled to. The things I gave up to find them.

And the fact that I only gave up 3 months before I arrived here.

I open my eyes and pause. I'm still curled against Caspian's side, his one arm around my shoulder and the other laying on top of my own in the centre of his chest. Thankfully, he's still asleep.

I inch myself away, careful not to wake him, until I can sit up properly and stretch.

The sun stands above the horizon and blesses the morning with a stroke of pink that ascends into a clear, perfect blue, undisturbed except for one thing.

The blue star.

Gael reacts quicker than I do, nudging Lucy and calling out to the others while I sit there, shocked at the sight because for us it wasn't just a star – it was hope.

Everyone wakes and clears the shore in record time, sparing glances every few moments to check that the star hasn't blinked out of existence and before we can process how important this is, we're on the Dawn Treader and sailing in the correct direction.

The wind is mild as if in apology for its two week long tantrum and the journey is slow, giving Eustace the time to fly over the island and gift us with a wild goat for breakfast, along with three for himself. We settle ourselves across the deck with our stews and peaches and watch as a handful of crew members perform a botched rendition of an old Narnian tale with renewed spirit.

I can't help but avoid Caspian.

I spend my morning lingering around Lucy and Gael, acting as if I'm an active participant in their antics when really I can't find the strength to focus my eyes, so instead I stare out across the landscape with blurred vision, the sea and the sky melding into one infinite expanse of blue.

Last night's conversation replays on my mind, unrelenting in its determination to break me apart.

I don't want to go back there anymore.

I had been avoiding thoughts of London for so long; everything was going to smoothly. Now it's a thorn in my foot, burrowing deeper with every moment I spend believing that I belong here, in Narnia, like it's punishing me for thinking that I deserve that.

If you could stay here, go to Narnia and start a life away from the war... Would you?

I couldn't say yes. My life in England and my affection for it is splinted glass, and that single syllable would shatter it beyond repair. I would never be satisfied. We could win the war and I wouldn't feel anything except a gaping emptiness, a longing incapable of being fulfilled even if they gave me the Queen's riches. I only want this. I've grown so used it all – the clean air and the weight of a sword against my hip, conversing with minotaurs and thinking of Narnia and Aslan each day, and the company of people I can be myself around and who I know I would do anything for, for the right reasons.