Page 38 of Beacon

After sampling several more sweets I began to feel uncomfortable being the only one eating while the prince monitored my every movement so as not to miss even the subtlest of reactions. I scooted the plate closer, but he shook his head in protest.

“I got them for you—” But his words faltered when I nudged the plate again, my look adamant. He chuckled. “Very well, if you insist.”

He accepted a tart and broke it in half, leaving me the bigger piece. Silence settled over us once more as we proceeded to eat the entire plate of sweets in this manner—splitting each dessert so that we could both enjoy them all. A blossom-scented, sugar-laden breeze wafted through the air and birdsong filled the spaces of conversation, all of which enhanced the prince’s already pleasant companionship.

It wasn’t until the last pastry had been consumed that Prince Owen broke the silence “I’m curious: when you refer to me in your thoughts, do you think of me as Prince Owen…or Owen?”

The unexpected and almost intimate question caused my cheeks to heat. He misinterpreted my embarrassment. “You’re blushing! Does this mean you do think of me as only Owen?”

He lightly caressed my warm skin, looking so pleased at the thought that it pained me to shake my head. His expression deflated and he heaved a dejected sigh.

“For every time I correctly guess what you’re thinking, there seem to be twice as many incorrect ones. In this instance I wish I’d been right. I wish you wouldn’t be so formal with me; we’re not only coconspirators but friends.”

I was surprised he cared, for since I could never speak his name out loud, he had no need to know what I called him in the privacy of my thoughts. But by his earnest expression, it clearly mattered to him.

“As my supposed fiancée it seems appropriate for you refer to me without my title.” His teasing smile settled into a rather serious look as he took both of my hands. “Won’t you call me Owen?”

I met his gaze.Prince Owen, I thought firmly.

He stared intently at my expression, as if concentration was all that was required to penetrate the barriers protecting my thoughts in order to hear them.

He frowned. “You didn’t think it.”

My eyes widened and he managed a wry grin.

“You’re becoming easier to read the more time we spend together. I know you just thought of me as Prince Owen, so perhaps we can try again. Don’t be shy.”

Prince Owen, I thought again, this time out of pure stubbornness. I couldn’t explain my hesitation. Perhaps it had to do with the feeling I’d experienced while watching the noblewoman flirt with him, an emotion I was beginning to suspect was jealousy. Heeding his wishes to drop his title would only bring us closer, making it all the more painful when our makeshift relationship eventually came to its necessary end.

After another perusal of my expression, he sighed. “You did it again. Are you simply shy, or is there another reason for your hesitation? I wish your reading lessons had progressed far enough that you could tell me.”

With how easily he was able to read me, written expression seemed entirely unnecessary.

I didn’t understand why he was so insistent about this, considering ours wasn’t a true courtship. Once the curtain closed on our production, I’d return to the lighthouse and he’d remain at the palace as my kingdom’s prince, making any reference to him without his title entirely inappropriate. Referring to him as simplyOwenwould cause me to lose one of the barriers protecting me from getting closer than necessary to him.

Prince Owen, I thought again.

As if my thoughts had been spoken out loud, the prince sighed and released my hands. “I see you’re still averse to the idea. I could never force you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. I just hoped that, given that we’ve become friends…” He trailed off.

Friends…Though I liked the word, it didn’t feel quite right. Though my self-imposed silence had given me little experience with friendships, I knew enough to know friends didn’t hold one another’s hands the way Prince Owen had held mine even when we’d been alone…or as he’d done moments ago when he’d cradled my hands within his. However, friends likely did have picnics after sneaking away from tedious garden parties as well as engage in schemes such as the one we were part of now.

Friendship was something I could more easily give him, especially considering it’d begun forming long before our charade and could easily continue even when it eventually drew to a close.

His brow puckered when I seized his withdrawing hands. “What is it, Marisa?” Despite his disappointment in my refusal to humor his wishes, his tone remained gentle.

I shyly lowered my gaze.Owen, I thought distinctly.

His breath hooked as if he’d heard my whispered thought. I peeked up to find his cheeks pink but his expression bright. “Did you…”

I nodded timidity before hastily ducking my head again.

“Thank you.”

I couldn’t respond. I didn’t understand how he’d been able to sense I’d finally cooperated or why it made him so happy, only that I felt a strange warmth at the thought.

He reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear, a touch that unlocked the last of my resistance.Owen.

It was easier to think his name the second time. Admittedly, I rather liked the sound of it. I peeked back up at him with a shy smile, which he readily returned. I wondered whether he’d pull his hand away, but his touch only lingered, his fingertips soft and caressing against my cheek.

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