Page 22 of Beacon

So he’d entangled me in such a scheme simply because he didn’t have the backbone to express his dissatisfaction in his father’s choice of wife? Such an unfeeling tactic left me without empathy for the prince’s plight. I waited until he risked glancing up at me to roll my eyes.

He flinched. “You’re right, it’s a poor excuse for treating you so callously, especially after I promised to help you. Instead I’ve repaid your rescue with treatment you didn’t deserve.”

That was a better apology, which effectively lessened some of my ire, though not nearly enough. I gestured towards the door. He seemed confused until I mimicked talking while putting an invisible crown on my head to indicate Their Majesties.

He stiffened. “You want me to talk to my parents?” At my confirming nod, some of his suppressed panic escaped. “No, please, I can’t share the truth. I’m hoping that despite not deserving your help…you might give it anyway?”

Was he in earnest? My heart sank as I searched his desperate expression. He was. I gave my head a rigid shake, and he hastily stepped forward, his expression placating.

“Please, Marisa. The scheme aside, it’d be fun spending more time with you and getting to know you better.”

I ignored the pleasant flutter his flattery caused me. Whatever I felt between us, this charade absolutely could not happen. I shook my head again.

He wrung his hands as his agitation rose. “Isn’t there anything I can do to convince you? There has to besomething, for it’s too late to back out now. If Father realizes I lied…he’ll align me with the princess for sure. We’ll only need to pretend for a little while, just until the end of the princess’s visit. I can’t marry her. Won’t you help me?Please.”

I seriously doubted such a claim that the scheme would only need be fora little while. Surely this wouldn’t be the only unwanted engagement the prince would find himself in. I snorted, the only indication of my doubt, but it was enough. He frowned.

“Do you believe I’m insincere and would go against my word?”

After the scheme he’d just pulled, I had no reason to trust him, but silence was an inadequate tool for such an argument. I’d never felt such a desire for verbal words to express myself. I looked helplessly around the elegant room for anything I could use to explain myself and released an annoyed huff when I found nothing.

When I next faced the prince, empathy eclipsed his previous remorse. “It must be so difficult.”

His tone was so gentle that, for a brief moment, I almost found myself softening towards him…almost, but in the end, my stubborn determination was stronger; I refused to allow him to persuade me in getting his way in such a matter.

When my hardened expression remained unyielding, he released a heavy sigh. “It appears I misunderstood the reason for your frustration.”

He glanced around the room as I’d done, as if searching for his own inspiration. He strode to the nearby desk and rummaged through it to produce quill and parchment. I slowly followed, frowning at the writing instrument when he extended it towards me.

“I know you can’t write,” he said, accurately guessing the reason for my hesitation. “But can you at least draw?”

My drawing skills were nearly as useless as my ability to write. Even if they were adequate enough to be used as a means of communication, I was at a loss as to how to convey the complex thoughts currently filling my mind. But refusing him was a battle I was determined to win, so if I could do anything to dissuade him from his ridiculous scheme…

I accepted the quill and proceeded to clumsily sketch some semblance of my thoughts. The quill felt awkward in my hand, resulting in a picture that was little more than scribbles.

The best my rudimentary skills could manage were two poorly constructed stick figures with crowns atop their heads. Below the second I clumsily wrote “Owen,” the only word other than my name I knew how to write. I then drew another stick figure with a crown, this one with long hair to represent a princess.

I glanced up to find the prince staring at the drawing with intense concentration. “My father, me, and…Princess Lavena?” He pointed to each figure as he named them and grinned broadly at my nod, looking rather pleased despite what I wanted to say likely wasn’t worth the effort he’d expended to understand.

When I once more had his attention, I pointed to myself before crossing out the figure representing Princess Lavena. His brows furrowed as he watched me draw another princess…only to point to myself again and cross her out as well. I did this two more times before his eyes widened with clarity.

“I think I understand. You’re concerned I’ll want to use you not just for this match but for any other woman my father might want to arrange a union with.”

I paused in drawing a fourth stick figure mid-stroke, surprised this awkward exercise in communication hadn’t taken as long as I’d initially thought. Though it was only one of my many concerns—the others being that our charade would progress so far that I might be forced to marry a man I scarcely knew, or I’d actually fall in love with him only to have my heart broken—I set the quill down with a nod.

Prince Owen didn’t immediately speak, nibbling his lip as he considered his words. “I can’t deny the idea is tempting…but I could never use you in such a way.” I lifted my eyebrows at that statement, and he shifted guilty. “I know that’s quite a claim when I’m doing exactly that now.”

Once again, he’d been able to sense what I hadn’t said, as if he alone had the ability to peer inside my mind and see all I yearned to express. This connection made me want to remain at the palace just so I could spend more time with the kind prince, an unexpected desire that caused my resolve to falter even further.

I nodded in answer to his guess, and his expression became very serious. He strode to the window, where he stood with his hands clasped behind his back. For a long moment he didn’t speak, simply stared out at the approaching dusk whose rosy golden light caressed the sea’s gently rolling waves.

“As a prince, it’s my duty to marry. Although I understand that responsibility, I’m not ready to do it now, though I know that eventually…” With a sigh, he turned to face me. “But I cannot marry Princess Lavena. I will do all I can to stop this arrangement that has already been set in motion. If you choose to help me, I will only use your assistance for this arrangement. I promise.”

Though I sensed his sincerity, we were back to the original argument of my cooperation, something I still refused to give. Once more I shook my head, and whatever bravery he’d managed to cling to finally faltered, revealing the panic he’d fought to mask.

“You don’t know what she’s like. She’s…” Rather than use words to describe her, he could only shudder. “I won’t marry her, yet Father is clearly determined. With her impending arrival, I don’t have time to come up with an alternative plan. This is the only way I can see to wriggle out of this. Please, Marisa.”

I shook my head again, more fiercely. Prince Owen strode to me and enfolded my hands in his, causing an involuntary gasp to escape my lips. I wasn’t used to anyone touching me outside my family, leaving me unprepared for the gesture. Though I stiffened, I was surprised by the warmth that came from his hands cradling mine as well as the strange, almost heated tingles that rippled from his touch.

---