Page 49 of Beacon

Prince Owen had been behaving rather strangely ever since the evening after the dinner party. He’d not only become more attentive and sought my company at every opportunity but his friendliness had become something deeper and more sincere. He seemed to be showing a higher level of interest; if I didn’t know better, I’d think he was actuallyromanticallyinterested in me.

Though logic told me he’d likely only become a more convincing actor, I couldn’t help but bask in each tender look, sweet smile, and word he bestowed upon me. Yet while I tried to convince myself not to look too much into his behavior, I could sense something shifting between us, even though it was still something I couldn’t quite understand.

I might have dismissed the possibility if not for the Queen of Lyceria’s more pointed attempts to get Owen and Princess Lavena alone—from claiming the princess was feeling poorly and needed Owen to escort her up to her room or managing to arrange for me to be seated farther away from him at dinner. With each manipulation I wavered between feeling empathy for Owen and empathy for the queen.

I pondered this change between us as Owen escorted me through the palace grounds a few days after the pivotal dinner. Unlike the garden stroll I’d expected when he’d found me on the balcony practicing my letters and invited me on the pretense of a courtship outing, our walk had become less about enjoying the beautiful scenery and instead one of stealth—he paused before every bend in the path to peer around it.

Footsteps suddenly sounded, causing Owen to hastily pull me behind a large shrub to wait for the intruder to pass. My breath caught at the feel of his arms around my waist and how close we now stood. Instinctively my gaze flickered to his lips and for a brief moment of insanity I was tempted to kiss him, just as Prince Jaron and Princess Lavena had both suggested.

Thankfully, oblivious to the embarrassing direction of my thoughts, Owen peered cautiously through the leaves and released a relieved breath when a woman of the court passed on the arm of a nobleman. “Another disaster averted.”

He started to gently tug me to return us to the path, only pausing when he caught sight of my pink cheeks. His brows furrowed. “Are you alright?”

My heart pounded wildly in response. For a moment all I could think about was him and how close he stood and I even briefly considered mouthing a word in answer to his question rather than using my usual signs, just for Owen to pay attention to my lips.

Don’t be ridiculous. Yet the tempting impulse lingered. If I’d ever had a need to create a sign for a curse, I’d have used it now to vent my frustration for the princess having put such an idea in my head askissingOwen in the first place.

Yet I still couldn’t help but wonder what it’d be like…

“Marisa?” Owen still appeared worried, so I smiled in hopes of reassuring him before gesturing towards the path we’d just abandoned and lifting my shoulders in silent question to ask why we were hiding.

His responding chuckle was quiet. His breath caressed my skin as he leaned close to whisper into my ear, even though the only person who could possibly overhear was his personal guard who stood rigidly nearby, whose necessary presence prevented us from being truly hidden.

“I’m ensuring the coast is clear. Apparently, my parents believe I’m neglecting Princess Lavena, especially considering the vast distance she traveled in order to further our acquaintance. I’ve been instructed to spend some ‘quality time’ with our prestigious guest this afternoon…hence I’m doing all in my power to avoid her.”

I frowned in disapproval.

“I know my behavior is rude,” he said. “But I can’t help preferring to spend my time with you.”

Even though I reminded myself his desire was solely motivated by how he found the company of a friend preferable to that of an unwanted, potential match, his words still warmed me through.

After a few more turns, the path opened up to a patch of lawn surrounded by trees and hedgerows that effectively masked us from view from anyone who should happen to glance out the palace windows. Here a game had been set up that required mallets and balls, and rounded metal wires that stuck into the ground had been set up.

I pointed to these each in turn and tilted my head in question. Owen’s eyes widened. “Haven’t you ever played croquet? Not to brag, but I am quite the proficient croquet player. I’d be happy teach you how to play; I’m sure you’ll love it.”

He handed me a mallet and a blue ball, the latter of which I tried to hand back to him; this was the only one of this color and I knew it was also his favorite. He enclosed my fingers back around the ball. “I insist you use this one in hopes that your favorite color will bring you luck. Since there are only two of us, you’ll also play with the black ball, whereas I’ll play with the red and yellow ones. Those are called wickets”—he pointed to the metal things—“and we hit the ball through them.”

I held the ball close as he explained the rules of the game. The general principle was simple: we needed to hit our balls through the course of six wickets in the right sequence in each direction. Whoever completed the course with both our balls first would win. After outlining the basics, Owen proceeded to explain the more intricate rules.

Though they were simple, I wasn’t entirely certain how skilled I’d be. As a child I’d often played a game with my parents where we’d used sticks to hit rocks across the sand. Surely hitting a ball wouldn’t be much different, and it’d definitely be more fun.

Owen’s enthusiasm was rather contagious, so by the time he’d finished the explanation, my anticipation had grown. I bounced lightly on my heels.

He grinned. “I’m glad you’re excited. Since this is your first time playing, you have the honor of going first.”

I set the blue ball onto the grass, but before I could get in position to hit it, Owen stepped forward.

“I forgot to show you the proper way to hold the mallet.” He stepped behind me and wrapped his arms around my body so that we were practically in an embrace. My breath immediately caught. “This is the standard position.”

He arranged my hands so that my upper hand gripped the handle near the top with my knuckles pointing forward while my lower hand supported the back with the thumb pointing down.

“How far apart you keep your hands is a personal preference, but it’s usually better to have them close together.”

His own hands rested over mine to arrange them, his touch warm and rather pleasant, but even after he’d shown me, he didn’t immediately pull away. We both stood completely still, my only movement being my wildly pounding heart and my rapid thoughts, whirling in confusion over why the prince had put us in such an intimate position when we had no audience to perform for.

“Do you…understand?” His tone sounded breathless.

Even with a voice, I’d have found it impossible to respond with how difficult it’d suddenly become to even breathe. I swallowed and managed a nod.

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