Page 12 of Beacon

Yet I couldn’t help but be curious as to the prince’s purpose in seeking me out. I gave a tentative nod, earning me another endearing grin. He beckoned me to lead the way. With a steadying breath, I stepped from the solace of the lighthouse into the warm sunlight.

I couldn’t help but cast the working sailors a rather disgruntled look as we passed, a childish whim that was unfortunately not lost on Prince Owen. He guiltily bit his lip.

“Our presence is undoubtedly unwelcome. My apologies for trespassing; the ship was damaged in the storm, preventing us from sailing. I tried to seek the lightkeeper’s permission to dock here until we could complete our repairs, yet no one answered.”

It would have been impossible for us to hear his knock after I’d transported the lighthouse away from the island, meaning he’d been knocking on an empty building. I was still grateful for his consideration; as a Bytamian prince, he had every right to any of the islands within his kingdom and thus hadn’t needed to seek permission at all, and yet he’d done his best to obtain it all the same.

I offered a small smile, and he visibly relaxed. “Thankfully, the repairs are near completion. We’ll likely set sail tomorrow. As eager as I am to return home, I hadn’t yet had a chance to see you. I’m grateful I found the opportunity.”

Butwhy? The mystery taunted me as I led the prince around the back of the lighthouse where the beach sloped down towards a smaller, more secluded shore opposite to where his ship docked, granting us a semblance of privacy…well,almost.

The water swayed as Octavius poked his head out. Upon seeing me, he scrambled excitedly towards me, pausing upon spotting the prince. He immediately planted himself in front of me to extend his many arms out like a shield. If octopuses could glare, this was the closest imitation I’d ever seen.

Prince Owen looked startled at the intrusion before his easy grin quickly returned. “Is this your pet?” He crouched down and extended his hand, as if hoping to be properly introduced. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’m—”

His introduction was cut short when Octavius squirted him with ink. The prince fell back onto the sand in surprise. For a moment he could only stare before he held up his hand, dripping with ink.

“I don’t think he likes me. Let’s hope his ire at making my acquaintance doesn’t stain or else I’ll have some explaining to do at court.”

Octavius looked rather smug that his message had been so easily conveyed, all while doing his best to avoid my disapproving glare and my wagging my finger back and forth to give him the scolding he so thoroughly deserved.

I hovered uncertainly over the prince, unsure how to make amends for my octopus’s mischief, but he only chuckled good-naturedly. Octavius ruffled, clearly offended his threat hadn’t been taken as seriously as he’d hoped. He wound himself around my leg and wriggled up my body to perch himself on my shoulder where he rested, his beady attention fixated on Prince Owen.

Yet once again, the threat was seemingly lost on the prince, whose gaze softened as he took in my friend. “What a faithful guard dog. He seems an amiable companion…if a bit mischievous.”

I gave him a gentle pat on the head, and my octopus snuggled himself against my hair in obvious affection.

“Does such a loyal companion have a name?”

I nodded, earning both his smile and Octavius’s almost inquiring look. The poor thing had no idea what I called him and likely never would.

“If only you could tell me so I could use it to get in his good graces; I suppose a nickname will have to do.” Prince Owen paused in washing his hand off in the ocean to study the ink being carried out with the current. The sight seemed to provide inspiration, for his eyes brightened. “How about Inky?”

Octavius gave an annoyed shudder, and I wrinkled my nose. The name didn’t suit my sophisticated pet at all. Prince Owen’s smile turned bashful.

“I take it neither of you like it. I shall have to consider a better alternative, but until then…” He shook his hands dry before straightening and turning towards my octopus, his expression suddenly rather serious. “I understand you’re protective of your mistress, but might I have permission to speak with her?”

He was so polite and sincere that it seemed not even my protective pet could resist his charm. My octopus made no move to object when Prince Owen finally began his long-awaited conversation. “I’m grateful I finally have the opportunity to speak with you. I wanted to thank you for rescuing me. It…was very brave.”

The memory was still vivid in my mind, especially the all-encompassing anxiety. I hadn’t felt brave as I’d ventured into the ocean; instead I’d been guided by an emotion that wasn’t the least bit noble. Guilt prickled. I fought to tuck it away as I shrugged.

He frowned. “Please don’t discount your actions; I’m truly indebted to you. Without you I would have drowned. It certainly would have been poetic justice considering…” A haunted look filled his eyes before he hastily blinked away the dark emotion and offered another smile, this one more forced. “I’m grateful, nonetheless. Thank you.”

Heat encased my cheeks and I lowered my eyes. I didn’t deserve his gratitude, not when I hadn’t saved him for his sake, not completely. The desire for penance had led me to the ocean as well as the desire to do anything to prevent adding to my burden of guilt should someone drown on my watch. I finally managed to lift my gaze to find the prince watching me, his head tilted curiously.

“I wish I knew what you’re thinking. I have so many questions.” His gaze drifted towards the surrounding ocean. “How did you manage to rescue me? From what I remember the ship was quite a ways from shore. How did you reach me in time?”

Naturally, I didn’t answer. He sighed.

“I suppose I’ll always be curious, left to imagine the reason for myself; perhaps you’re a mermaid after all.”

I rolled my eyes, earning me a cheerful chuckle that dispelled his serious expression.

“I have an idea.” He reached down to pick up a seashell, which he handed me. “Since you can’t speak, perhaps you can write your answers instead.”

I frowned at the shell in my palm before shaking my head, accompanying the gesture with crossing my arms. His bright expression faltered.

“You don’t know how to write?”

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