It's only a someday. It's only a perhaps. It still lightens his heart immeasurably, somehow, to know she's let even the spark of possibility into her heart.

He can't quite smile. He can only duck his head again, hands squeezing hers tight, and brush an entirely careful kiss against her knuckles.

"Then we'll wait."

He would wait. He suspected her siblings, for all their hurt and quiet, had already been waiting. He knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that those left behind in Narnia would wait.