Page 35 of Beacon

Prince Owen glanced towards me. “This isn’t something Marisa is comfortable talking about.”

The princess frowned. “It seems strange not to know for certain something so important about a woman you’re courting. I never would have expected her to suffer from such an ailment. I find it difficult to imagine how you two could have formed such a close bond when only one of you can speak.”

Her frank assessment caused me to nearly choke on my sip of tea. Prince Owen shifted guiltily. “We—that is—” But before he could even attempt to dissuade her suspicions, she rose without another word and returned to her previous place across the room. Both of us stared after her before the prince hastily recovered.

“That…went alright.” But unlike the first time he’d made such an observation, he didn’t sound so sure. That interaction had been many things, the least of which beingalright. Although the princess thankfully didn’t approach us again for the remainder of the evening, her jaw remained tight even as a glint of determination filled her eyes, both of which made me realize just how long the road ahead of us would be to free the prince from his unwanted match.

CHAPTER13

While I often preferred silence, the one I endured now was unbearable. The prince and I sat at a secluded table on the royal grounds at a garden party hosted by Her Majesty, taking tea with Princess Lavena. While many members of the court were in attendance, we had a table to ourselves, a circumstance which Prince Owen didn’t look at all pleased about.

Despite her stoic and rather cold expression, Princess Lavena was all that was proper as she elegantly sipped her tea and partook of the variety of sandwiches on display, her movements rigid. After discussing at length the quality of the tea spread and the gardens’ unique tropical beauty, her and the prince’s usual topics in their strained small talk had been exhausted, leaving nothing to fill the tense spaces in the conversation now.

Though she masked her boredom well, the princess’s gaze darted restlessly about and met her mother’s disapproving look, silently ordering her to expend more effort. Princess Lavena obediently turned her attention to the prince with a tight smile.

“Won’t you tell me more about yourself, Prince Owen?” Though her expression remained polite, it did little to hide the lack of enthusiasm filling her tone.

While he’d animatedly given me a detailed account of his interests when we were setting the stage for our courtship charade, the prince seemed completely unmotivated to talk now.

“I enjoy horseback riding, sport, the usual interests for a prince.”

He glanced towards me, inviting me to share my own, a consideration he often extended to help me contribute to whatever conversation we were currently engaged in. However, the princess completely ignored my signs. His mouth thinned, clearly offended on my behalf.

“Marisa is saying how much she enjoys the beach, tending to her lighthouse, playing with her octopus—”

“Fascinating,” Princess Lavena said dryly.

Prince Owen’s jaw tightened with a look like he wanted nothing more than to retort. He hesitated a moment as he silently warred with himself before relinquishing the fight with a sigh, decorum reigning victorious. “And…what of your interests?”

“My favorite pastime is embroidery.” The princess’s look was almost coy, as if challenging him to see just how far he’d carry such a conversation topic that was clearly outside his realm of navigation.

But he didn’t seem inclined to play the game decorum dictated. “How…fascinating. I’m glad you’ve found something that provides you so much interest. I’m sure your work is unparalleled. You’ll have to show me sometime.” Despite the polite words, his expression showed complete indifference.

The princess’s responding smile was strained and lacked any warmth. “I’m sure you would neither understand nor appreciate the intricacies of my vast knowledge of stitches.”

“No doubt.” And the conversation died there.

I studied the princess thoughtfully as I quietly drank my tea as the silent observer. During last night’s dinner, Princess Lavena had been quite attentive to Prince Owen, but ever since breakfast, when their parents had arranged for them to sit together, she hadn’t expended any effort, rather she appeared as exhausted with the exchange as he did.

Princess Lavena noticed the Queen of Lyceria’s prodding look, a silent command for her to do her part to fill the strained silence. She heaved a quiet sigh and obediently cast her gaze around, as if searching for an appropriate topic before settling on the last one I wished to speak of.

“Did you hear about the shipwreck last night? It was just off the shore of the capital.”

My breath caught and I stilled.Shipwreck? What shipwreck? Immediately my thoughts went not just to the victims of the accident but also to the questions that repeatedly haunted me as to Father’s own fate out on the water.

“I hadn’t heard.” I felt Prince Owen’s worried gaze on me, but I was too shocked to return it. The princess made several comments about the wreck in question, words muffled by my wildly pounding heart.

I didn’t need her to supply me the necessary details—even without seeing it myself I could well envision the remains of the ship splintered against the rocks and the lives claimed by the sea. The thought caused my breaths to come up short and fast. It was all I could do to maintain any semblance of calm, something impossible to grasp when my mind raged like a stormy sea with countless questions that I had no answers for.

Would this have happened if I’d been the one in charge of my lighthouse rather than my uncle? While my goal to obtain it had served as a beacon to guide me through the prince’s charade, it now shone brighter than ever, reminding me that I needed to do something more than sit silently at tea. If I had any hope of obtaining the means to acquire my lighthouse, I needed to do all in my power for this charade to succeed.

My desperation compelled me to scoot myself closer to the prince and graze his arm. Though the gesture had been solely made to feign flirting, I found sitting closer to the prince and touching him helped calm my rising anxiety.

He stiffened at first before he caught my gaze and smiled knowingly. As if determined to play along, he held my gaze and reached up to tug on his ear, the sign we’d established for when we were thinking of each other. Though it wasn’t the first time we’d exchanged this token, I cherished the gesture more now, something real in this sea of pretend.

Our exchange wasn’t lost on the princess, as Prince Owen clearly hadn’t meant it to be. “What was that?” she asked.

Prince Owen lifted his eyebrows. “Oh this? It’s just one of the signs Marisa and I’ve developed as a way for us to communicate secretly with one another. It keeps us close.”

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