Chapter 7: ‘Nothing to do with Engineering’

Edmund was perfectly aware that he was being followed, but he paid the fact no heed, and continued his stroll down the familiar garden path. He breathed in the crisp morning air, watching as droplets of dew shone brilliantly in the rising sun. A slight smile came to his face as he heard the footsteps behind him become louder, his follower finally approaching him.

“Edmund,” said the familiar, accented voice. Edmund turned his head slightly, raising a dark eyebrow, but continuing his stroll. From the corner of his eyes, he saw a determined expression cross the handsome face and found his curiosity rising, despite his anger.

“Edmund, wait.” A hand catching his arm stopped Edmund in his tracks, but Edmund still did not turn to face his assailant. With a sigh, the owner of the hand simply stepped in front of him, looking down at the smaller king.

“Edmund,” he said.

“Yes, my name’s Edmund. You got me,” Edmund said grumpily.

“Look, we need to talk,” Caspian said, his hand being shaken off by Edmund.

“That’s what we’re doing.”

“I mean really talk.”

“What do you call this, engineering?”

“What is that?”

“Secret ancient kings’ business. You wouldn’t understand,” Edmund said, still miffed. He may have forgiven Peter after their talk the previous night, but he had yet to receive an apology from Caspian. Until then, his angry-Edmund persona would remain firmly in place. Caspian had been just as bad as his brother, and Edmund was certainly not impressed.

“Come and sit with me,” Caspian demanded. He grabbed Edmund’s arm and guided him over to a bench, as the ground was still too damp to sit on.

“Well?” Edmund said after a long moment as Caspian simply stared at him, a strange expression on his face.

“I am sorry,” Caspian said simply. “I did not mean to upset you. I know what I did was bad, and I offer my sincerest apologies.”

“You’re apologising, just like that?” Edmund asked incredulously. “No denial at all?”

“What I did was wrong, and I know that. I let my temper get the best of me all those times, and I am sorry that it hurt you,” Caspian said. His dark eyes held so much contrition that it truly shocked Edmund. He had expected at least a little self-defence, as Peter had provoked Caspian, but there was none.

“So you admit that you were in the wrong?” Edmund said, all of his carefully cultivated diplomacy going out the window as he gaped.

“Of course,” Caspian said. “I do not wish to lie to you.”

A smile came over Edmund’s face, and he said, “Well, I suppose you’re forgiven then. I’ll have to get assurance that you’ll behave yourself in future, though. It’s hardly kingly behaviour; brawling and all that.”

“I promise. I will be nice,” Caspian said with a grimace.

“Just be civil. It’s all I can ask, really.”

Caspian grinned at him and moved closer to him, so that their sides were touching. Edmund’s heart began to pound at the sudden closeness, and he suddenly found himself remembering exactly why he generally avoided physical contact with Caspian in serious situations. He lost control of himself, his reason going out the window, and that scared him. His breathing rate increased and his entire body felt warmer as Caspian placed a tanned hand over his pale one. He marvelled at the difference in colour, unable to force down a blush. Caspian’s scent washed over him, and he found himself relaxing into Caspian’s calloused hands.

Caspian gently picked the hand up, running his fingers over the palm gently. Edmund’s breath caught as he shivered slightly. The Telmarine’s hand dwarfed his own, and his fingers looked fragile next to Caspian’s. Tanned fingers gently caressed his knuckles, happiness and wonder spreading throughout Edmund’s body.

“You are so fragile,” Caspian murmured, looking quite awed as he continued to play with Edmund’s fingers.

“Am not,” Edmund murmured, no conviction in his words. He watched Caspian carefully, feeling as amazed as the other man. Their hands felt so right together, and Caspian’s gentle caresses relaxed him and made him feel more loved than he had ever thought was possible.

Suddenly, Caspian let go, determinedly refusing to meet his gaze. Edmund found his brow arching again as a clearly embarrassed Caspian cleared his throat and gazed into the distance.

“Well… I am glad that is sorted,” Caspian said gruffly. Edmund’s brow arched even higher and he rolled his eyes. Caspian had picked up the concept of ‘having things sorted’ from Peter, it seemed. Not another one, Edmund grumbled to himself, standing and dusting himself off. He made to slip his hands into his pockets, irritated when he discovered that his tunic had none. He settled for hooking his thumbs in his belt and made to stride off.

“Wait,” Caspian said. In a moment, Edmund was spun around and Caspian’s lips were on his. His eyes widened slightly and he nearly pushed Caspian off from reflex, but he ended up resting his hands on the Telmarine’s shoulders, returning the kiss with equal vigour. His eyes closed and he savoured the feeling of Caspian’s lips devouring his, his heart hammering. Caspian pulled their bodies close, tilting his head to allow himself even more access to Edmund’s mouth, pressing kiss after kiss to his lips.

When they finally broke apart, Caspian stepped back, glancing back at the castle.

“It is probably time for breakfast,” Caspian murmured, beginning to make his way back. He had yet to relinquish his hold on Edmund’s hand; a fact that pleased said king greatly.

“Probably,” Edmund agreed, swallowing his pride and allowing himself to be practically dragged back to the castle. Judging from the look on his face, Caspian was going to keep Edmund in his grip until he was forcibly removed.

Edmund found himself slightly embarrassed as he realised that some of the servants had stopped to stare as their new king and one of the kings of old passed by them. Caspian looked like a man on a mission, a mission that Edmund had yet to figure out, and the two made quite a spectacle. He probably would have gaped too if he was a servant, so he could hardly fault them for stopping work. It probably looked less romantic and more like some sort of kidnapping.

Edmund held in a snicker as they reached the breakfast room and Caspian slowed his face and loosened his grip, leading him like a gentleman to his seat as Edmund watched the confused expressions of his friends and loved ones. Peter was glaring at their linked hands with a venom, and if looks could kill, Caspian would have been shot to pieces. Edmund nearly groaned as he realised that getting the other two to get along was going to be much harder than he expected.