Page 28 of Beacon

He frowned. “I’m not sure how else we fell in love after you rescued me.”

I nibbled my lip and cast my gaze across the ocean as if inspiration would roll in with the tide. The balcony overlooked the beach near where the prince and I had met again yesterday, providing an idea that almost seemed too simple. We couldn’t see the lighthouse from this particular balcony, so I lifted my arm to provide its sign that I’d already taught him, gestured towards the beach, and made a walking motion with my fingers.

“We met again on the royal beach near your lighthouse? Such a scenario seems likely, considering I was on the beach for several days while the crew repaired the ship.”

My role as the nearby lighthouse keeper made such a situation entirely plausible. I gestured between us and mimicked talking.

“And we talked?”

I held up my hand and began lifting my fingers one by one, each accompanied by my gesturing between us and mimicked a conversation. One finger, two fingers, three fingers, each conveying separate meetings. Then I pressed my hands together and slowly pulled them apart in a stretching motion, another of my established signs with Father to indicate a long span of something, in this casetime.

Unfortunately, this last sign seemed to only baffle him, but thankfully, my earlier ones had been adequate enough to convey my thoughts. “We met up several times outside your lighthouse, and over the course of several conversations and walks in the beach, eventually fell in love. Can love form in such a way?”

Perhaps the story was rather simple, but it was preferable to the thought of love at first sight. But though my idea admittedly wasn’t much better, its simplicity had the advantage of leaving us few details to keep track of.

Still, there were holes in our story that anyone who poked and prodded enough would be able to discover, making our tale seem more like one we’d read in a fairytale than one that had realistically occurred. But it was more ideal than pretending to be engaged after only a few weeks’ acquaintance.

Our background story established, my earlier anxiety returned now that the time had come to make my next request. Although I knew it was necessary, it hadn’t been an easy decision to reach last night—I’d been thinking about it ever since the moment he’d written his name in the sand and I couldn’t let the idea go, no matter how uncertain I was to expand my communication in such a way.

I took a steadying breath before forming my hands like a book; pantomime immediately followed with using my finger to trace the tablecloth to mimic writing before I clasped my hands to form a silentplease. This form of charades left little room for misunderstanding.

“You want to learn to read and write?”

My lingering fear over the idea caused me to hesitate.It’s necessary, I reminded myself.You need another way to communicate—one that is more universally understood—if you’re to have any hopes of this schemesucceeding.

Though it was for my lighthouse, it still wasn’t easy to open myself up even to the idea ofwrittencommunication. I’d spent years avoiding any form of words, especially when I’d invented enough gestures adequate enough for my purposes. But while the prince could easily share as many details as he wanted, the silent communication I’d developed was likely not enough to express my own thoughts with those who didn’t understand my signs. Even his developing a familiarity with my form of “speech” would require more time than we had before the princess arrived…though admittedly writing would as well, but at least it would open the door that would allow us to better learn about one another. The basics we’d already established were enough to pretend a friendship, but the nature of the prince’s scheme required us to go deeper than simply knowing one another’s interests and preferences.

Still, to purposefully add actual words to my makeshift form of expression…the idea paralyzed me with fear.It’s necessary, I once more reminded myself. Though the thought of furthering my communication terrified me, at least writing provided a safe form of expression that didn’t require the voice I no longer had.

Prince Owen brightened at my nod. “I would love to teach you. Let’s begin now.”

Before I could protest, he turned to one of the attending servants and requested a slate and chalk. By the time the materials had been brought, the other servants had cleared the plates away. Owen scooted his chair closer to mine so I could better see as he wrote out the first letter, which I recognized.

“This is the letter A.”

But though this letter was familiar, considering it appeared in my name twice, I didn’t recognize the second shape he wrote alongside the first, which apparently was also A. “Each letter has two versions,” he explained. “An uppercase form and a lowercase form. Uppercase forms begin sentences and names, and lowercase forms are used for everything else.”

I vaguely recalled learning this during my brief sojourn at the village school. I nodded to show my understanding, and the prince continued. He drew both forms of the letter A several times to demonstrate how it was done before instructing me to try. While I was able to form the letters, my attempt was rough, my hand unaccustomed to writing. After messing up several times in a row the prince adjusted his teaching.

“Perhaps it’s too soon for you to write the letters. We should begin by tracing them with your finger.”

He rewrote the letters a bit larger and passed the slate over to me. I lightly traced my finger over each shape, mentally repeating the sounds they made as the prince spoke them out loud. After I’d traced the letter A several times, we moved onto the next.

I struggled with the letter B in both its forms but had no trouble with C, only to once more struggle with D, especially when I noticed how similar the lowercase version was to the B I’d just learned. Despite the occasional confusion and the mental exertion required for the task, learning to read wasn’t as frightening as I’d feared it’d be…but that was likely only because we had yet to arrange these new letters into any words.

The longer the lesson progressed, the closer the prince scooted his chair to me, and soon he was so near, it became difficult to concentrate. His proximity was not only warm but he smelled rather nice, like the ocean, not to mention his nearness allowed me to better see his clear blue eyes watching me with his usual kindness and gentle patience.

The effect of his nearness caused my heart to pound wildly. It quickly became too much so that it was impossible to focus on the letter we were currently studying—the letter H. When his hand suddenly grazed mine to assist me, I could bear it no longer. I nearly upended my chair as I hastily stood.

He blinked, clearly startled. “Are you alright?”

I nodded so he wouldn’t worry, but my current tumult of emotions made my assurance a lie. I pointed to the slate and crossed my arms in front of me to indicate that for the moment I was done with the lesson. Disappointment replaced his display of concern.

“You no longer want to learn to read? Or is it my teaching that’s the issue?”

I shook my head and repeated the gesture, this time while feigning a yawn while pointing to the sun in hopes of conveying the sense of my being too tired to want to learn anymoretoday. His expression deflated. “You’re bored?”

I heaved an impatient sigh, at my limit of explaining myself when the prince still didn’t fully know my language, especially when I suddenly desired to be alone, though I couldn’t account for why I felt this way.

---