Page 50 of Beacon

“Good. I’ll show you another common hold and you can decide which you’d prefer—” But before he could rearrange my hands, his tutoring was interrupted by an unexpected arrival.

“It appears my brother has finally taken the initiative to flirt with hisfiancéewithout my encouragement.”

We both startled at the sudden voice and swiveled around to find Prince Jaron leaning against a hedge, watching us with a mischievous grin. Owen practically leaped away from me, leaving me missing the warmth of his presence and the comfort from his touch.

“Jaron! I—” Crimson shallowed his cheeks, but before I could be hurt by his obvious embarrassment, he recovered and closed the distance between us. “Marisa has never played croquet before, so I’m showing her how to hold a mallet.” Despite his clear determination not to be flustered, it seemed to require him great effort to resume his previous position while in front of his brother.

Prince Jaron’s grin only grew more wicked. “How convenient for you to choose an activity that would require such detailed tutelage.”

Owen’s fading blush returned. “I—it’s not—I didn’t know she’d never played when I suggested—it’s only a game—”

“Then it’s a game you chose well,” the prince said. “There is no more effective way to woo a woman than the classic ‘find any excuse to touch her, all in the name of assisting her.’”

Owen’s ears went bright red as his embarrassment stretched beyond his cheeks. “I—that is—I’m just helping Marisa learn how to play—”

“I’m sure that’s all it is.” Prince Jaron gave me a cheeky wink. “Though you seem to have things well in hand, I would be remiss as a brother not to impart some additional advice.” He stepped away from the hedge and leaned close enough to whisper, though his voice was far too loud for him to have intended to keep his words a secret. “Let her win.”

Owen rolled his eyes. “Marisa doesn’t need my help with that.”

Prince Jaron gave an approving nod. “Excellent. Exhibiting confidence in her as well as bestowing the proper compliments are both very effective ways to a woman’s heart.”

“I didn’t compliment her for the sake of our charade, but forher.”

Prince Jaron nodded again. “Another perfect response. You’re better at this than I thought.”

“I’m not trying—” Owen began, but his words were cut short by his brother’s encouraging pat on his shoulder.

“Though I’m sure you don’t need it, I still wish you luck.” And with that he left us alone.

Owen stared after him with a mixture of exasperation and a look that was almost…smug, as if his brother’s words about his flirting abilities had pleased him. His confidence remained when he resumed his explanation of the different ways to hold a mallet—all of which included tangible examples—before footsteps interrupted us once more.

Owen sighed. “Youagain. I don’t need your advice, Jaron, so just leave me and Marisa—oh.” He turned to find not his meddling brother but the woman he’d gone to great lengths to avoid. On cue, he once more hastily stepped away from me and bowed in greeting, his movements stiff. “Princess Lavena, I didn’t expect to find you in the gardens.”

“Neither did I,” she said with an equally false smile. “My mother just so happened to spot you out the window and informed me as to your whereabouts in order to save me the trouble of looking for you myself, considering we were scheduled to meet.”

“Werewe? I’d forgotten.” His exaggerated tone of innocence only confirmed he was lying.

I’d been under the impression our elaborate attempts to remain undetected from the princess were to avoid apotentialmeeting, not that one had already been arranged. Scheme or not, there was no need to be so rude to her. I gave Owen a disapproving look, which he only evaded by determinedly avoiding my gaze, seeming to sense the much-needed scolding awaiting him the moment he looked at me.

“It’s fortunate that there’s no lasting harm from your unfortunate lapse in memory considering I’ve found you now.” The princess’s look was expectant, making it no mystery what she wanted.

Owen deliberated a moment before heaving a defeated sigh. “Would you care to join us?” He spat the invitation out with considerable effort, as if each word pained him.

“Thank you for the invitation. I will gladly accept.”

Owen watched with a rather strained expression as Princess Lavena took up one of the spare mallets, likely only maintaining his rigid politeness through years of princely training. When she cast her gaze around for a ball, he stepped forward.

“Marisa gets the blue ball.”

Princess Lavena didn’t seem to care which ball she used. Despite having successfully wrangled an invitation to join us, her expression had become rather closed off, leaving me unsure whether she was pleased to be allowed to join our game or was as disgruntled about our situation as Owen. Based on what I’d seen in the enchanted pool, I had no doubt it was the latter. But then, why had she sought us out at all?

What had begun as a friendly and even flirtatious atmosphere now became wrought with tension. We played the first two of the six wickets in complete silence. Princess Lavena was a skilled player, as was Owen, and though my first few shots were rather poor, I quickly got the hang of it.

When I successfully hit my ball through the third wicket on the first try, I couldn’t resist performing a happy dance in celebration, which was enough to pierce Owen’s gloomy mood and earn me a smile.

“I knew you’d be good at this.” Then as if suddenly remembering how long he’d ignored the princess, he turned to offer her an obligatory comment. “You’re not bad yourself.”

She said nothing, simply got in position to hit her own ball, which successfully rolled through the wicket with a single hit. Owen’s turn was next. His bad mood had settled back around him by the time he took position. My heart gave a strange tug and I felt a sudden need to do something to make him smile again.

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