Page 67 of Beacon

Owen eventually stopped at a section of beach half-shaded by the palace turrets and half- illuminated by the sun. “This area will do nicely.”

My voice tingled, eager to respond, but I ignored its mischievous persistence and instead lifted my brows in silent question:Do nicely for what?

“For building sandcastles!” His enthusiasm was contagious, earning a smile from me. “Such an activity doesn’t require extensive conversation yet we’re still spending time together.”

I wasn’t sure what motivated him to spend time with me outside our usual charade, though with my own increasing desires to be in his presence, I was pleased all the same.

Owen knelt in the sand and promptly began to gather it in armfuls into a large pile, not seeming at all bothered by dirtying his regal clothes. “Princess Lavena would never want to do something like this, considering playing in the sand isn’t proper for a royal. Thank goodness you’re different.”

Even if the princess went against that assumption and actually enjoyed such an activity, I doubted she’d be inclined to engage in it with Owen; the longer her visit extended, the less engaged she’d become in their courtship, causing me to suspect she was making her presence dull on purpose in an effort to avoid an unwanted arranged marriage.

Owen motioned to the servant who’d accompanied us, and I’d just noticed they carried the pails and shovels our activity required. “Do you have any experience building sandcastles?” he asked me.

I pinched my fingers close together to indicate I had a little bit.

“I would be happy to impart my castle-building expertise…or”—Owen wriggled his eyebrows as he leaned in close—“perhaps we can make our outing even more fun by having a friendly competition to see who can build the best one.”

He looked so excited by the prospect that I couldn’t resist nodding my assent. He immediately set to work with an efficiency that testified of the many hours he’d spent building sandcastles throughout his life. I soon paused in building my own to watch him, admiring the creative and elaborate structure he was building, far more grand than any I’d ever built with Father.

He finished building one of many turrets and promptly began constructing a moat, pausing when his gaze caught mine. “Are you envious of my amazing construction skills?” His grin was mischievous.

My cheeks heated and I hastily looked away. My blush seemed to please him, for he chuckled and scooted closer to better examine my half-finished castle, much smaller than his.

“Yours is very well structured. You’ve clearly underestimated your own skills. Did you used to build sandcastles with your friends?”

I shook my head, for my distance from the village made it difficult for me to find friends while growing up…only for my silence to later make friendships impossible.

“Let’s see, if not with a friend…” Owen considered. “You once told me you don’t have any siblings, so perhaps this was an activity you used to do with your parents?”

My heart twinged at the mention of them. My gaze searched the horizon, but as usual there was no sign of the ship Prince Ronan had sent to look for Father.

Owen rested a comforting hand on my arm. “It’s only been a week, too soon to give up hope. I’m sure he’ll be found.”

I took a steadying breath and nodded, but it did little to ease Owen’s concern. He bit his lip with a look like he wanted nothing more than to distract me from the somber direction our conversation had taken.

“I used to build sandcastles with my brothers, but they matured much faster than I did and no longer engage in such fun. However, I want to maintain my skills, considering I’m soon to be an uncle and I have two others I’m competing with for the award for the favorite.”

I had no doubt he’d achieve that wish, especially with how effortlessly he’d won me over. The words to express this thought felt closer than they ever had before, but I still wasn’t ready to use my voice. So instead I chose the words I could spell and wrote them in the sand with my finger, a means of communication that used to feel like a step forward but now felt like cheating.

You will be the best.

I sat back on my heels and stared at the simple sentence, proud I’d been able to write what I wanted to say. Satisfied with the message, I glanced towards Owen with a pleased grin to find him crouching beside me, studying the message carefully before lifting his gaze, his smile touched.

“Thank you, Marisa.”

My heart warmed that I’d successfully conveyed my message even as my voice gave an impatient twinge of protest at being denied the opportunity to be used, one I once more ignored. The mischievous thing needed to understand that just because I now had a voice didn’t mean I yet had the courage to use it.

We resumed our castle construction, which soon shifted from a competition to a joint effort to combine both of ours to make one grand structure. This required Owen to scoot closer. I became surrounded by his proximity—warmer than the sun and more encompassing than being submerged in the ocean.

It grew worse; the longer we worked, the closer Owen drew to me. At one point our hands brushed against one another’s, resulting in an almost tingly energy from such a simple touch.

“Sorry,” he murmured, but he made no move to withdraw…which meant it wasn’t long before our hands brushed again, this time in a manner that seemed less accidental and more deliberate.

He sucked in a sharp breath and froze. For a moment he stared down at our hands resting side by side on the sand before slowly lifting his gaze to stare at me, taking in my wide eyes and windswept hair. Though my appearance was anything but elegant, his gaze was soft as he looked at me, as if he’d never seen a more beautiful sight.

“You have sand on your cheek.” He reached up to brush it off…only to leave a second layer on my skin. His eyes widened. “I’m sorry!”

I pressed my lips together to smother the giggle aching to escape. Despite his apology, he didn’t withdraw his hand; his touch lingered, and even with the rough sand coating his palm, his caress was still somehow soft. Though we’d touched a lot more lately, normally, more affectionate gestures between us were reserved for an audience…but there was no audience now.

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