Page 15 of Beacon

“I’ve also been told…that the lighthouse’s beacon has faltered twice this week.”

I squeezed my eyes shut as guilt, always so close to the surface, rose, though not enough to penetrate my despair. Nothing could do that. Despite the distraction it provided, I’d been unable to give my tasks adequate focus, which had caused moments where my emotion had caused me to falter in my duties.

“Without your father…I have inherited the lighthouse. Though I will allow you to continue living here, from now on I will perform the duties you cannot.”

My breath hitched and I immediately began shaking my head. No, he couldn’t take my lighthouse away from me. Not only was it my last connection to my parents and the life we’d shared together but it was my only sense of purpose. Without it…surely I’d drown.

I tried to convey my thoughts through my usual signs, but no matter how hard I tried, he couldn’t understand them. My despair deepened as I realized that my only voice couldn’t be heard when I most needed it. I tried a variety of signs, but my protests too remained silent…and thus not strong enough to dissuade my uncle.

He rested a comforting hand on my shoulder. “It’s for the best, Marisa.”

I continued shaking my head even as my despair rose, threatening to consume me. My emotions were founded on more than him taking away my home and purpose—Father had often complained about Uncle’s inexperience and irresponsibility, traits that left him ill-equipped for the sacred responsibility now entrusted to him.

But I was left with little choice. Uncle’s arrival had only confirmed what my mind refused to accept; he’d come to fill in the space created by Father’s absence, making this nightmare all too real.

And no matter my desperation, this was one I could never awaken from.

CHAPTER6

The days following Father’s disappearance and Uncle’s arrival were long absent of meaning, my heartache my only measure for the passage of time. I tried to distract myself with my lighthouse duties, but Uncle repeatedly rejected my every attempt to help. When he’d initially informed me that he’d take over, I hadn’t realized he fully intended to care for the lighthousealone, leaving me without purpose or distraction.

I spent most of my unwanted free time on the beach, desperately searching the ocean for any sign of Father’s fishing boat, hoping against hope that his boat had survived whatever had caused the damage I’d witnessed and fiercely clinging to his promise that he’d return. But the longer his absence, the more my worry escalated, a heavy anchor that wedged itself firmly in my heart, leaving me devoid of hope.

Yet I refused to give up. I spent hours exploring the lighthouse’s various locations in order to search the different oceans for any sign of Father. Uncle seemed relieved that my frequent absences prevented my interference with his running the lighthouse.

One of these excursions finally provided a single shaft of light in an otherwise stormy sky. It occurred at the lighthouse near the beach surrounding the Bytamian palace. I rarely ventured there, considering the beach was exclusive to the royal family, but this was the one ocean I hadn’t yet searched…admittedly due in part to a strange hope at the thought of potentially encountering Prince Owen, one I was afraid to acknowledge.

I hesitantly made my way across the sand to a section that would provide the widest vantage point. I scanned the horizon for any sign of boats, yet the ocean remained entirely empty. Even though this beach was forbidden, I couldn’t resist lingering. I remained on the shore and continued staring out across the sea…until a sudden sound tore my attention away.

I glanced behind me and my heart lurched; someone was approaching. Though the distance made the intruder’s features indiscernible, the formality of his attire confirmed he came from the palace. I stood completely still in hopes he wouldn’t notice me…but my wishes were dashed the moment he did. He immediately shifted directions to come towards me. I turned and ran for the lighthouse.

“Please wait.”

That voice…it belonged to Prince Owen. I glanced over my shoulder. He’d come close enough for me to discern his features, confirming it was, indeed, the prince. Yet I didn’t slow. My efforts to outrun him were futile, for his longer stride allowed him to easily catch up. He seized my wrist, tugging me to a stop.

“Wait, Marisa.”

Despite his gentle hold, I felt constrained. I yanked myself away with a glare. He lifted his hands in apology.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you. I only wanted to speak with you. Please don’t—”

I didn’t give him a chance to finish before I tried to run again, but he once more stopped me, this time by wrapping his arms around me in a loose embrace. I was unprepared for the fluttery sensation created by the unexpected gesture and instantly stilled, my breath lodged in my throat.

“I won’t keep you here against your will,” he assured me, never mind his innocent touch made the thought of further movement utterly impossible. “The last thing I want is to make you uncomfortable. But I sincerely wish to converse with you, so please don’t run when I let go.” He released me without me having to wrench myself away.

As tempted as I was to resume my flight, it’d be unwise to ignore such an earnest request from a prince, especially one whose determination would only lead him to recapture me. But more than that, Father’s absence had made me lonely, leaving me with a strong desire to connect withsomeone…even if that someone was an amiable prince who, unlike most of the villagers, had the patience required to decipher the communication I’d developed over the years.

I sighed in acquiescence, and his shoulders sank in relief at my compliance but concern quickly eclipsed the emotion. “Why did you run away? We’ve talked before, so I was hoping…” He shifted awkwardly.

I was well-versed in acting out my thoughts with Father, and in the rare moments I discovered a limit in my communication, he and I would simply invent new signs to allow me to express the full extent of my thoughts.

The familiar excitement that came from this game swelled my chest as I gestured towards the beach. Father and I’d never needed to create a sign for “prohibited,” so I invented one now by crossing my arms in front of me to form an X. The gesture transported me back to the many happy moments Father and I formed my language together—from the practical signs to the silly. My heart twinged in yearning at the memories.

The prince’s comprehension smoothed his furrowed brow, and in that brief moment when he understood, I felt as if I had my voice back. “You were worried because you were using the palace’s beach? There’s no need to be concerned; you can come here anytime you want.”

That was an offer I’d likely never be able to accept. If anyone other than him caught me, I had no words to explain that I’d obtained his permission and would thus find myself in trouble. But he seemed so pleased with the solution that I offered a small smile, which he readily returned.

“I admit I’m happy to see you, albeit confused.” He glanced towards the lighthouse. “This lighthouse is quite far from the one on the secluded island where our ship was damaged. Do you own both?”

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