Page 76 of Beacon

His gaze drifted away to overlook the starry sea, but his words lingered, encircling my heart to seep deep inside me, much as the ocean had caused our previous connection to reawaken. This magic worked on me, kindling the desires that had been steadily growing within me ever since meeting Owen: I wanted to speak again.

Could I possibly…

What had once seemed so impossible now felt within reach, now that I’d overcome my first fear and ventured back out onto the water. But using my voice was much more difficult than simply stepping into a boat; this was overcoming the silence I’d used to protect myself from the guilt constantly weighing upon my heart.

For years I’d allowed myself to drown in this darkness…until I’d met Owen, a man who’d become my harbor; he would be a safe person to entrust my words to.

He seemed content with the silence, a consideration that only increased my longings to get closer to him. I knew that with patience and persistence, we could eventually have the relationship I desired, but I was allowing my fears and my guilt to make that journey far more difficult than it needed to be. There was only so much one could express without words; remaining silent forever meant there would be bridges in our relationship that would be difficult to ever cross.

My yearning swelled—the more it grew, the more I considered the frightening path before me. If I chose to speak again…it need not be a lot of words. I could begin with only a few, speaking each in a whisper so as not to be easily heard. But even that felt daunting, each possible word I could voice seeming more frightening than the last…save for one, the word I’d already spoken: Owen’s name.

I took a wavering breath and opened my mouth…only for nothing to come out, as if fear had blocked my voice completely. My frustration at not being able to say even his name seemed to be the key to pushing away the lingering tendrils of fear trying to hold my voice back.

“Owen?” The word was soft, barely above a whisper, but it seemed to echo in the silence of the night.

The boat rocked as Owen swiveled around to face me, his eyes wide with surprise. For a moment he simply stared, as if uncertain the sound he’d just heard had come from me. I had a difficult time believing it myself.

“Marisa?” His tone remained cautious, even quiet, as if he was afraid speaking too loudly would cause my voice to retreat back to where it’d remained comfortably hidden for so long. “Did you say something?”

I took another resolute breath. “…Owen.” I still spoke in a whisper, and once more only his name, a word I knew was safe.

He continued to stare before his shock slowly melted into a soft smile. “You spoke.” He scooted closer and seized my hands, holding them gently between his. “Can you…say my name again?” But he’d no sooner made the request when he hastily retracted it. “Wait, I didn’t mean…”

My brow furrowed and I gave him a puzzled look that he’d become intimately familiar with throughout our time together. He lowered his eyes.

“You only spoke after I mentioned how I wished you would. It wasn’t my intention to pressure you.”

I wanted to explain he hadn’t pressured me but had simply stoked the desire that had been steadily growing within me ever since we’d met. But though I’d breached the barrier guarding my voice, I still struggled to rediscover it, leaving me with only a single word.

“Owen.”

When he didn’t look up, I wriggled one of my hands free from his grip to caress his cheek, beckoning him to look at me. So many words fought for precedence, eager to explain my sudden desire to recapture my voice, how safe I felt with him, how being on the water had reawakened the magic he still didn’t know I possessed…but it’d been so long since I’d communicated that the words were in chaos, tangling themselves together in such a way they were impossible to make sense of, let alone speak.

“Did I pressure you?” he asked.

That was a question easily answered with a simple shake of my head. He released a whooshing breath. His heartfelt relief only encouraged me to speak again, yet once more all I could manage was his name.

“Owen.” The word emerged as a whisper, one magnified by the starry stillness of the night.

He smiled. “I’ve heard my name spoken countless times…and yet no one says it the way you do.”

My heart warmed at the softness filling his eyes, the tenderness of his smile. There were so many more things other than his name I wished to speak. More than anything I ached to express my gratitude for the harbor he provided me as well as for allowing me the opportunity to come to know him, but such a sentiment would require more words than I currently had at my disposal.

So I simply tightened my hold around his hand, and he squeezed mine gently in return, giving me hope that he understood what I hadn’t yet been able to express.

“Is there anything else you want to say?” His tone and expression remained gentle, an invitation for me to trust my words to him.

There was so much more I wanted to express—not just to tell him what he’d come to mean to me or to share all the stories I’d been aching to tell for so long but to share my burden about what had caused my silence in the first place…but that story contained far too many painful words for me to recount now.

I shook my head and he nodded acceptingly. “I will always be willing to hear whatever words you feel like saying. I’m grateful for the word you’ve already entrusted me with…especially considering it’s my name.”

My heart swelled at his usual acceptance, his patience, his kindness, all which drew me to him like a ship towards a lighthouse.

Silence once more settled around us, leaving nothing but the gentle slosh of the waves and the sound of my own pounding heart. Although I’d run out of words tonight, I’d at least stepped into the boat whose voyage I hoped would help me find the rest of my voice. And with each word I managed to rediscover, I knew that my harbor would carefully guard each one, just as he’d promised.

CHAPTER27

The following morning as I awaited Owen to take breakfast with me as we usually did, I received an unexpected guest—the Queen of Lyceria swept onto the balcony, eyes glinting with purpose…one that wasn’t difficult for me to discern. Her expression remained polite but rigid as she sat uninvited in the seat across from me.

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