Well. Al might take issue with some of Edmund’s interpretations, but that was neither here nor there. He stilled as he scented the person joining him. There was no forgetting that scent. Not after the last time he’d been close enough to Edmund to smell it.

Al considers, for a moment of insanity, just bolting. Edmund knows he’s here, it’s silly. But Al thought he was ready, he thought he could do this, and — he wasn’t. Maybe he’d never be ready to see Edmund again, if just he simplest words made his chest ache like this. Aslan.

He stood his ground — and wished almost instantly that he hadn’t. As Edmund grew closer, he caught the second scent intertwined with Edmund’s own and grew irrationally angry. She’d just rubbed herself all over him, hadn’t she? Still a hussy, then. And he —

He had no claim. He couldn’t say anything. Maybe she’d changed. Maybe she made him happy. He didn’t get a say. He swallowed hard, sterling himself as best he could.

“Hello, Edmund...”