Beautiful woke that morning, bored out of her skull. Why were people so dull here? She clomped down to the common room—no one to talk to, as usual. She hated that. Fine. She would go on an adventure today. Alone, if she had to.
Same old bread. But today, Miss Cheerful had left meat and cheese—almost like she knew Beautiful had plans. Beautiful slapped a slice of each between two pieces of bread. Make one for your husband. She spun. Who said that? No one. Just her brain, spitting nonsense. What an absurd idea. She was definitely too bored.
She found herself making a second sandwich anyway, fingers working on their own. She wrapped it in linen—neatly, too. The birds would eat it. They were her only friends here. Well… them, and Gracious. And Steadfast. Kind. Fair-Glance. And—
She wandered through the wheat fields, wondering where to go. To the stream? She had never been. The stairs looked dreadfully long. The birds were singing, and she matched them, tapping the stalks in time with careful fingers. When they paused, so did she, plucking grains and flicking them away between beats. Still bored.
She looked up and saw him. What was he smiling at? She turned, hair whipping into her face. There was nothing there. Then it hit her—he was smiling at her. He kept smiling. Well, now this was getting awkward.
She strode straight over and poked him in the stomach. Husband. The word blazed through her mind before she could stop it. What an utterly ridiculous idea.
“I’m Beautiful.” Why had her parents given her that name?
“Yes, you are!” he said.
Was he teasing her? She giggled anyway. She already loved his sense of humor.
“Do you want to see the stream?” he asked. “Maybe tomorrow?”
What was wrong with him? Didn’t he realize she was bored today? He was perfect for this adventure—she had seen him poking around the ruins. Well… after Companion left. Before that, he trailed after him like some lost puppy.
Tomorrow? He probably thought she couldn’t handle the stairs and didn’t want to say it. Fine. She would show him.
“What’s wrong with today?” She had no idea what he thought he was doing—but he was coming with her. Whether he liked it or not. “Try to keep up!”
Beautiful slowed at the top of the stairs, chest heaving. She grinned as he lagged behind. Maybe next time he’d think twice before underestimating her.
The top step was slick. Her foot slipped suddenly, and she pitched forward. She flung out a hand, grasping for anything. He caught her. She shot him a sheepish grin. It really was a long way down.
He was stronger than he looked. But the way he held her hand—so gentle. She started to pull away, but he didn’t let go. Good. Not that she was going to admit she needed her hand held for the way down. Like a baby.
As they made their way down, with his steady grip keeping her steps sure, she could actually take in the view. This was a side of the valley she’d never seen—wild and green, with waterfalls crashing and water slipping down delicate cascades. It danced over the rocks, clear and careless.
She sighed. What an adventure today was turning out to be.
Beautiful sat beside the stream with Seeker, dipping her toes into the crystal-clear water. That was his name, right? He hadn’t said, but she was pretty sure she’d heard Companion call him that.
A palace rose on the far side of the stream, stately and magnificent. Exploring that would be a grand adventure. He didn’t even think to offer. Maybe he thought she couldn’t cross the stream—or that she’d fall in. And honestly, could you blame him, after the way she nearly went flying off the stairs?
Then it came to her. He was always off exploring the ruins near the cottage. What was in there that held his fascination? She would find out. Tomorrow. Who said her adventure had to end today?
She set her handbag down and opened it, hoping he didn’t notice how old and worn it looked. Inside were two sandwiches wrapped in linen. Her heart skipped. Make one for your husband. Had she really just said that out loud? She was mortified. Heat rushed to her face. Please let him not have heard. He’d think she was silly. And there went her adventure.
The word still echoed in her mind—husband. Still. He wasn’t even really her type.
He passed her his canteen. She recognized it—it had been Companion’s. She wished she had a good friend like that. The crumb at the corner of Seeker’s mouth had been bothering her. She reached over and wiped it away with her handkerchief. Much better.
***
He looked distracted. What was going on in that head of his? She started telling him about the time she fell into the Slough. Why had she said that? Now he’d think she was clumsy. And there went the palace.
He was listening—really listening. No judgment in his eyes. So, she continued on. Prattled on, more like. She told him all about her childhood in Dark Land. How hard it had been. There was something about him—steady, quiet—that made her trust him.
She looked up—and there it was. A single tear rolling down his cheek. Revulsion surged in her chest. “Don’t cry,” she snapped. She’d never seen a man cry before. Yell, sure. Cry? Never. “Only babies cry.”
No sooner had the words left her lips than she regretted them. He was crying—for her. That wasn’t weakness. She had no reason to mock him. How could she take it back? Unsay it? Baby could mean something sweet. Something tender. Maybe he knew that.
“I’m going to call you baby from now on!” She nearly convinced herself.
“Hurry up, baby! The sun’s setting” She dashed toward the stairway—another chance to show him she could keep up.
“Can I kiss you?” The words caught Beautiful off guard. She’d denied him her hand at the top of the stairs. But his hands—strong, careful—still lingered in her memory. She wanted him to kiss her. She’d never met anyone like him.
But… she’d made herself a promise. She would only kiss one man—the man she loved. She’d only say I love you to that man. Once she said it, she could never say it to anyone else. She’d never betray her husband like that.
It really was a marvelous day—maybe even the best of her life. But it was only the first. Much too early to say.
She’d promised to only kiss one man. But…. She offered Seeker her cheek. If he’d kissed other girls, that was his business. A tingle bloomed where his lips touched her skin.
“I’ll miss you,” he teased.
“No, you won’t. I’m going to visit you in your dreams.”
And the dumb boy actually believed her.
Beautiful was surprised to find herself dreaming of Seeker. She held his hand tightly as they walked through the pastures, passing Shepherds and Pilgrims. She was free to do as she pleased—unbothered by their glances.
When they reached an orchard, he picked an apple—red and luscious—and handed it to her. She took his clasp-knife, sliced a piece, and offered him the first bite.
He stared at her with an intensity that made her feel—well, beautiful. Maybe for the first time. She leaned in to give him the kiss she’d denied. But she woke up first.
Her heart was pounding. That was close. Did dreams count? It was her dream, after all. No one would know. She didn’t even have to tell Seeker.
She hoped he’d dreamt of her. She really did. She needed to stop making promises she couldn’t keep.
When Beautiful woke, the sky was still dark, a faint silver glow brushing the edge of the horizon. She lit a candle and stared into the mirror. Carefully, she brushed her hair, coaxing the curls back in place. One night of sleep and her hair was as wild as Miss Cheerful’s. Well, maybe not that bad.
She didn’t want to wear the same dress again—but she didn’t have many. It wasn’t about impressing Seeker. She just needed something good for exploring ruins.
When did Seeker eat breakfast? She wasn’t sure. Better to get there early—just in case.
She set two places. One for her—and one right beside it. As she waited, the thought struck her. Two plates? What was she thinking? He’d know she’d been waiting for him. She reached to whisk one away—and froze as he stepped into the doorway.
“Good morning, baby,” she said, trying not to glance at the second plate. She eyed the day-old bread. “It’s not apples, but it’ll have to do.” She felt very clever at her private joke.
He sat down in front of the second plate. So—he noticed. Oh well. His hand drifted to hers.
“Not here, I said!” Maybe she should let him—she still remembered how his hand felt in the dream. But she pulled hers away anyway.
“What is it you do in that tower, Seeker?” she said, keeping her voice light. Not light enough. Too eager. He’d be suspicious for sure.
He picked up on it—of course he did. She’d just let it slip that she’d noticed him before. She scrambled to cover. “Everyone knows, little baby.” She threw in little to make it sound less… endearing.
“Come and see, baby,” he teased.
How dare he call her baby? “Don’t call me baby!”
Beautiful hung back, careful not to let Seeker see how eager she was for their little adventure. Let him lead. He seemed happy to.
“Here’s the Dusty Parlor,” he said. Well, obviously.
They came to a doorway, blocked by rubble. “The Interpreter showed Christian many things in the rooms on the other side.”
Did he think she didn’t know the history of the ruins? He could be so obnoxious. “And Christiana,” she added.
He shot her a puzzled look. She knew something he didn’t. She’d show him—after dinner.
“This is where the tour ends.” He stopped in front of a crumbled wall, no taller than she was.
Why would he bring her here only to stop? Didn’t he know that all good things take effort? She would show him. She grabbed her dress in one hand and started climbing the wall.
She hauled herself up—harder than she expected. Her arms strained, slipping a little. No way she was asking for help.
She landed on the other side and called back, “Are you coming, little baby?” She grinned. That ought to show him.
“Don’t call me…” he started.
She giggled. He couldn’t even finish the sentence.
She dashed up the stairs to the tower door. Locked. That was it? The end of their adventure? She yanked on the handle—it didn’t budge. Too early. It couldn’t be over yet.
He walked over, calm as ever, pulled a clasp-knife from his satchel, and flipped it open. She’d never seen it before—she was sure of that. And yet… he’d given it to her in her dream. Curious.
He slid his knife into the crack between the door and frame—smooth, like he’d done it a thousand times. The door swung open. She just stared. What else didn’t she know about him?
She held out her hand, waiting. But he was already bounding up the stairs without her.
“I’m waiting…” she called. He could be so oblivious. Did he want to hold her hand or not?
He retraced his steps without a word, and their fingers found each other. Hand in hand, they started up the stairs. There wasn’t as much room as she’d expected—she was pressed right up against him. But she didn’t let go. She could feel his heartbeat—slow, steady, strong—echoing through her. She felt safe. Her own heart answered his, beat for beat.
What was at the top of the tower that had him intrigued? Her curiosity was killing her.
She lit up. Books. So, he was a warrior poet? Maybe he was her type after all. Ridiculous. She’d been positively absurd the last few days.
She ran her finger across the spines. The Measure of a Man. The Hidden Well. The Yoke and the Plough. He really was a deep thinker. One title stopped her—written in a script she didn’t recognize.
“What is this one?” she asked.
“That is the New Testament,” he replied. “It’s in Greek.”
Warrior poet. Like Odysseus. Of course he could read Greek. But she had to be sure.
“How do you say…” she hesitated for half a second, then blurted “I love you.” That didn’t count. She said it, sure—but she didn’t mean it like that.
The dumb boy said “Ah-gah-PAH-oh.”
He had said it. And she liked hearing it. No one had ever said that to her before.
“Thank you!” She laughed to herself. She was getting good at this. But… she shouldn’t be cruel. Not to him.
That night Beautiful went to Seeker in the dream—this time on purpose. He was already there, waiting.
“It’s really you, isn’t it?” she whispered.
He nodded, eyes gentle. “You kept your promise.”
She seized his hand without hesitation—right there in front of the cottage. This was their dream. Their rules. No one could stop them.
“You can hold my hand here,” she said, lifting her chin. “Nowhere else.”
He nodded.
They raced down the stairs toward the ravine, her laughter chasing after the wind. She skipped across the stream, rock to rock, with no fear of slipping. The Stately Palace rose beside her—grand and dignified—but she barely glanced at it. Who cared about ancient halls? She had her Odysseus. They wound along the ravine, the stream leaping beside them in playful bursts.
Seeker dropped onto a smooth rock and let his boots drift through the cascading stream. He laughed. “Try this out!” he called.
Beautiful stepped in without hesitation, unconcerned about her leggings or shoes. The luminous water was cool, bright, and impossibly clean. It curled around her like wind, flowing through her fingers and around her ankles without leaving a trace. She twirled through it, laughing. Together they danced beneath the waterfall, the water around them—gentle, alive, and brimming with joy.
Beautiful settled beside Seeker and leaned into his chest—solid, steady, warm. A soft sigh escaped her lips. If only this night would never end.
At last, the time came to leave. Seeker leaned in to kiss her. This was her dream—she could do whatever she wanted. But it was real. It counted. She turned—not to meet his lips, but to offer her cheek.
Beautiful awoke with a start—the sun already halfway up the sky. She’d slept like a baby. Then the panic hit. What would Seeker think? She rushed to brush her hair. Splashed water on her face. The common room was empty. Heart racing, she bolted for the pasture. There he was—talking to Kind, like nothing was wrong.
She could see the unguarded affection in Kind’s eyes. If Kind liked him, he couldn’t be half-bad. Right?
Kind teased her about being late. Fair enough—she was terrible at judging time. But this time, it really wasn’t her fault.
“You can’t keep me up all night like that anymore,” she whispered to Seeker. Her cheeks warmed. She really hoped Kind hadn’t heard—she didn’t want him getting the wrong idea. She leaned closer, lowering her voice even more. “You have my days, that should be enough for you.” But not enough for me. She wisely kept that one to herself.
Had Kind just invited them to celebrate the Prince’s Birth? She turned to him, brows lifted in a silent question.
“You and Seeker are always welcome in my tent,” he said. “Both of you.” He looked at her like he knew.
When she turned, Gracious was laughing at something Seeker had said. Companion had definitely been a bad influence on him!
Christmas Eve had finally arrived—she’d been counting the days. Would he like the music box she’d had made for him? He loved music, and she’d managed to find out his favorite song without raising his suspicions. Sometimes, he really could miss the obvious.
He loved it, of course. And she loved her new handbag. He must’ve noticed her old one—but now, she didn’t care. Her warrior poet was a craftsman, too. Would he ever stop surprising her?
She’d loved the meal with Kind and his family, and the service had left her heart aglow. Now she sat with Seeker under the Christmas Star, firelight fading to embers. What a perfect night. If only it could last forever.
She woke to Seeker’s lips on hers. That didn’t count—he had kissed her. No… she wanted it. She leaned in and kissed him back, soft and certain. That counted.
She let go.
And when they kissed again, she didn’t hold back.
Beautiful woke to the sun rising over the horizon, a light frost dusting the ground. The sheep grazed contentedly around her, unfazed by the chill. Warmth still radiated from the campfire’s embers. Seeker’s arm was around her—and she nestled in closer with a soft sigh.
Seeker opened his eyes and smiled. She gazed into those big, brown eyes—so full of tenderness. Reaching up, she drew his lips to hers and kissed him, light and lingering.
He looked at her, eyes searching hers.
“I love you,” he said.
No. No. No. No.
Why did he have to ruin the moment? She had promised—promised she’d only ever tell one man she loved him. The kiss part? She added that later. Because deep down, she knew she would love the man she kissed. And she did. She loved Seeker. With all her heart. But she couldn’t say it. Not now. Not yet. “I love you” was forever. And she didn’t even know if…
Some words shouldn’t be spoken. He should know that. Shouldn’t he be able to read her heart? She loved him. Did he really need her to say it aloud to believe it? What was wrong with him?
Her temper flared—hot and sudden—but she caught herself, breathing it down.
“When did this happen?” she asked, calm on the outside. She was sure of it.
“When you climbed the wall,” he stammered. “When you tricked me into saying it the first time—I love you.”
“Do you even know what love means?” she demanded. “Think of every reason you love me—and make a list. Give it to me. A month from now.” She hesitated, then added, “We need a break. Time to think things through.”
Her heart sank. Why had she said a month? That was forever. A week would’ve been enough. Long enough to think.
This was his fault. She stood, fists clenched and walked away—leaving Seeker alone beside the cold, gray embers.
***
Seeker sat frozen, staring at the cold embers. What had just happened? She loved him—he was sure of it. And yet, she was gone. A month. Maybe forever.
Tears stung his eyes, but he blinked them back, stubbornly refusing to let them fall. Only babies cry. He made himself a vow. He would never cry again. Never.
Just then, Tirzah came out of the tent wiping the sleep from her eyes. “Still here, Seeker?” She paused. “Where’s Miss Beautiful?”
“I ruined the perfect night. Funny thing is, I don’t even know what I did wrong. And now she’s gone.”
Tirzah wheeled, leveling a piercing gaze at him. “Don’t be a dummy, Seeker! She loves you—everyone can see it. Except you. She will never leave you. Not ever.”
Doubt filled his mind. If only he could be as sure as Tirzah.
Beautiful sat on her bed, tears streaking her cheeks. She clutched the handbag he’d made, pressed tight to her heart. She wanted to go to his room—to apologize. But what would she even say? She had counted every day. It had been exactly seven. She couldn’t wait another.
She opened the door, stepped into the hall… then stopped.
No. She would wait.
***
Seeker paced his room, back and forth, back and forth. He couldn’t think—couldn’t even read. The list sat on the table, untouched. He had a hundred—no, a thousand—reasons to love her. And not one written down.
He opened the lid of the music box and let the melody spill into the silence. It had been a week. He missed her. Desperately. How was he going to last a month?
He reached for the door. He’d go to her. Say he was sorry. But for what? Loving her?
He paused, hand on the handle. She’d said a month.
Seeker couldn’t stand it anymore. He grabbed his staff and headed out—Kind always knew the right thing to say. It’d been a whole week since they’d spoken. It’s not like he had a reason for not going sooner. Kind was sure to give him an earful for that.
The air was chill, the sky heavy with clouds, as Seeker trudged the Narrow Way. In the distance, a woman in a slate-colored dress and veil walked alone. Three brutes emerged, blocking her path. Seeker stiffened, heart lurching. They circled her. He broke into a run.
The scene from Beautiful’s Book flashed into his mind—Christiana and Mercy, ambushed in the Way. The ill-favored one had promised to “make women of you forever.” But the King had sent a Deliverer. There would be no Deliverer this time. There had been no Evangelist for him. No Good-Will. No Interpreter. There would be no Deliverer for her, either. There was only him.
A sharp cry escaped his lips—he couldn’t hold back. They turned. He sprinted toward them, staff raised and swung with all his strength. The blow landed clean—cracking against the nearest thug’s skull. The man dropped like a stone.
One of the brutes had the veiled woman by the arm. “I’ll have my way with you once I finish with this runt,” he growled. He shoved her to the ground and turned on Seeker.
Seeker swung his staff, but the brute blocked it and knocked it from his hands. A vision of Blunt in Stupidity flashed through his mind. Fear surged—he wasn’t a fighter, and now he was unarmed. But he had no choice.
Fury welled up inside him. He clenched his fist, drew it back, and hurled his weight into the punch. The brute’s nose crumpled, blood spraying. Seeker stooped, grabbed his fallen staff, and turned—just in time to see the last one running.
Seeker held out his hand to the young lady trembling on the ground. “Are you all right, Miss…”
She pulled back her veil, and a wild mess of black curls tumbled free. Her eyes were swollen, her face streaked with tears and dirt.
“Beautiful?” She was a mess—but she was still Beautiful.
Beautiful sprang to her feet and fell into Seeker’s arms.
“I love you, Seeker.”
Seeker stood stunned. This was the last thing he’d expected today.
Lightning flashed in her eyes. “I said I love you, you dumb boy!”
She looked so adorable when she got like that.
“When did this happen?” he teased, heart racing.
Beautiful stared at him, speechless.
For a moment, they just looked at each other, then they both broke out laughing.
Then they kissed. It was a new beginning.
Beautiful leaned into her Deliverer as they walked. She didn’t need a mirror to know—her face was smudged with dirt, her eyes swollen from a week’s worth of tears. Not because of the brutes. She hadn’t stopped crying since she walked away from Seeker. Her hair was wild—she hadn’t even brushed it before slipping out to hear Kind speak. No one was supposed to see her. That was what the veil was for—to hide the tears.
Seeker didn’t even notice—he just looked at her with love in his eyes. Her Deliverer. She had cried out to the King, just as Christiana had long ago—and He had heard her. She never doubted He would.
The King had sent him. The thought sent a shiver through her. To walk with her. Her heart ached for Christiana—she never knew what it was to walk beside Christian. Beautiful clutched Seeker’s hand. She would never let go. Never.
Fair-Glance and Cheerful stood talking in front of the cottage. Fair-Glance looked at their intertwined fingers—disapproving. Beautiful didn’t care. Cheerful beamed at her.
“You’re a mess, Beautiful,” he said. “But you’re still Beautiful.” A mischievous glint lit his eyes. “To me.” Then with a teasing shrug he added, “I’ll wait. While you… freshen up.”
Her temper sparked—just for a second. But his eyes danced, full of mischief and tenderness. She loved him. No doubt at all.
Beautiful lifted her chin and closed her eyes, waiting. She opened them again. What was he looking at? Pay attention! Without another thought, she grabbed his head and pulled his lips to hers—right there in front of the cottage.
“Go,” he urged, voice quiet but sure. “I’ll be right here waiting, Baby.”
She didn’t protest. Baby. She liked the sound of it—more than she wanted to admit. That word belonged to him now.
Beautiful poured water from the pitcher into a basin, then dipped a wash towel and gently wiped the smudges from her face. She brushed her hair with care, then paused to twirl one of her curls around her little finger—Seeker adored her curls.
Her favorite dress was laid out on the bed. It wasn’t fancy, but it was still beautiful. As her fingers brushed a ring on a silver chain—the one Secret had given her with the King’s invitation—her memory stirred.
Beautiful busied herself sweeping the floor of the little house in Dark Land. Her mom would be home from the fields soon, and together they’d prepare dinner before her dad returned from the ocean.
She had barely set aside the broom when a knock echoed at the front door. The man who stood there wore a simple, finely made cloak of deep royal blue, and around his neck hung a slender chain bearing the seal of the King.
“I am Secret, and I dwell with those who are on high,” he said, his voice quiet but compelling. “The King invites you to journey to Beulah as a Pilgrim.”
“How can I journey to Beulah, seeing as I am just a girl, and I have no one to walk with me?”
“Have you no friends or family?” Secret asked.
“I am only the baby,” she said. “My brothers and sisters left years ago, and my parents refused to go with them.” Her fingers curled around the edge of her skirt. “What chance do I have?” She glanced toward the window, as if there was nothing to see. “And my friends—none would leave this place.”
Secret handed her the King’s invitation. On it was written “Beautiful,” sealed with the signet of the King. Then he took her hand and placed a small velvet pouch in it. Inside was a golden ring, set with a deep black onyx. It was clearly not meant for her—much too large for her small fingers.
Secret smiled. “The King will send one to walk with you. That ring belongs to him.”
Beautiful bowed low. “Please tell the King—I accept his invitation.” She turned the ring over in her hand, studying it. “When I find him, I will give it to him. And I will love him.” Her eyes blazed. “And only him.”
He nodded—not in simple agreement, but as witness to her vow. He handed her a small ornate wooden box. “Godspeed, Beautiful, daughter of the King.” And with that, he was gone.
Beautiful changed into the dress she’d laid out—the red and black one she’d been wearing when she met Seeker. She slipped the necklace over her head, and tucked the ring into her dress, close to her heart. It belonged to Seeker now. He just didn’t know it yet.
She dabbed on a touch of perfume from the carved, ornate box the King had given her. The sweet fragrance of lilies filled the room. She ran the brush through her hair one last time, making sure every strand was in place.
Yes, she was aware of the time. How long had she kept him waiting? It didn’t matter. She had to be perfect for him.
When at last she stepped into the common room, Seeker greeted her with a smile—the same smile that had captured her heart in the wheat fields.
Beautiful walked beside Seeker, hand in hand, resisting the familiar urge to dash ahead and make him chase her. Not today.
Together they walked down the stairs, her hand still in his. She never got tired of the view—waterfalls spilling from the distant mountains into the stream below, carving its way through the ravine.
She knew exactly what was coming—he thought she hadn’t noticed the small velvet box hidden in his other hand. And yet, her curiosity buzzed inside her, impossible to quiet. She glanced at him, amused—he was trembling. Poor boy. This was the same man whose fists had sent brutes running just hours ago. And now he trembled at her. A girl who barely reached his shoulders.
Relax. You’re doing fine. He stopped at the stone where they’d sat the very first day. This is where their adventure had begun. Where she’d accidentally blurted out husband. Somehow, even then, she’d known. No. She’d known the moment he smiled at her in the wheat fields. He had seen her.
He dropped to one knee. He could really, really be ridiculous sometimes. This was so cliché.
“Beautiful,” he said, “will you…”
She leaned in. Yes? She waited. And then waited some more. Her heart pounded. She couldn’t take it. She sat down on the stone—the very one where she’d given him her extra sandwich. Funny, he never seemed to think that was odd. She pulled him down beside her.
She slowly, deliberately took off her shoes and dangled her toes in the water, letting the coolness wash over her. Then she pulled off his boots and dropped his feet into the stream beside hers. Water splashed all over her. She didn’t care.
He still didn’t say anything. How long was he planning to keep her in suspense? Unable to take it anymore, she snatched the ring case from his hand.
“You wanted to give me this?” she said, flipping the lid open.
She gasped. It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen—a delicate band of the purest gold, set with diamonds that gleamed with an otherworldly light, dancing like the water her toes dangled in. She counted them. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Seven lustrous diamonds. Where had he gotten this?
No. She didn’t care where it came from. It was hers now. She leaned in and kissed him.
“Yes, Seeker—I will be your wife!”
He just sat there smiling, not saying a word. It was starting to test her patience.
“Well, don’t sit there like a dumb boy. Put the ring on my finger!” she snapped, her tone warm. Tender.
Beautiful sat sideways on her bed, legs tucked beneath her, counting the soft strokes of the brush through her curls. She would be perfect for Seeker tonight. A ridiculous thought. The way she looked had nothing to do with the dream. Or did it? Was she more beautiful there if she felt more beautiful here? Or did the dream reflect how Seeker saw her? She would ask him tonight.
She slid off the bed, bare feet peeking from beneath her cotton nightgown to touch the smooth wooden floor. She tiptoed over and blew out the candle. Moonlight bathed the room in a soft glow—almost as bright as day. She closed her eyes and tried to will herself into Seeker’s dream. But sleep wouldn’t come.
She thought about her days with Seeker—the adventure he had led her into. That would never end. They would share bedchambers in Palace Beautiful. He would be her Great-Heart, guiding her safely through the Valley of the Shadow of Death.
But they were empty words—she couldn’t see it. She tried to picture her wedding day, but the image wouldn’t come. She could see Kind with his Book and Seeker standing there. But where was she? It wasn’t what she saw that made her stomach twist. It was what she didn’t see. Her parents.
She sat bolt upright. In all her joy, she’d forgotten about her parents. They would never let their baby girl marry a penniless Pilgrim. It doesn’t matter, she pleaded in her mind, tears spilling down her cheeks. I love him. He loves me. She would run away with him. No. She couldn’t. That was impossible.
Her ring caught the moonlight, gleaming brilliantly in the quiet glow. Her ring. It wasn’t just a promise to her—it had become a symbol of her vow. She would never take it off. She reached for the other ring at her neck. A promise from the King.
Still empty words. She sobbed. Sleep wouldn’t come. She would go to him—he would understand her heart. She froze. He couldn’t see her like this.
Wife. The word echoed in her mind. Husband. Just words… right? She would walk with him—every step. Even if not as wife. Would he understand? I can’t marry you. But I can be with you.
She continued to cry, but not to sleep.
Seeker lay still, the sun warming his skin through the diamond-paned windows. For a moment, everything felt perfect. Then he sat up, heart racing. He hadn’t met Beautiful in their dreams last night. It was the first night they hadn’t shared a dream since he saw her in the wheat field. Had she waited for him by the stream? What would she think? She’ll understand. She always does.
He hurried down to the common room. She wasn’t there yet. He set out a plate for himself and placed another beside it. When he looked up again, she stood in the doorway, her posture graceful, shoulders back, yet her eyes were swollen. She’d been crying.
She moved gracefully across the floor and settled beside him. Her hand found his, soft and gentle. But sadness flowed from her touch. He had sensed her sadness that first day. But nothing like this.
“Beautiful, I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I don’t know what happened. How long did you—”
She lifted a finger, silencing him. “Seeker, I couldn’t… I can’t—” Her voice cracked, dissolving into a sob. She tried again, softer, heartbroken. “Seeker, I can’t marry you.”
Her words hit like a slap. “What? Why?” His voice rose edging out the hurt. “You were happy—we were happy! What happened? What did I do wrong?” He stared at her, bewildered. “You didn’t even ask why I wasn’t there. It’s not like I stayed away on purpose!”
Lightning flashed in her eyes, fierce and beautiful. “Listen, Seeker,” she demanded. “Stop trying to put everything into words. Feel my heart. You have to learn how to feel my heart!”
The fire in her eyes vanished as quickly as it came. She leaned in, pressed a kiss to his forehead, then tugged gently on his hand. “Come on,” she whispered. “Let’s not be late to Kind’s teaching.”
The diamonds on her finger caught the light—and his eye. His chest tightened. What kind of game was this?
***
They walked the Narrow Way, hand in hand—but this wasn’t the Beautiful he knew. She didn’t try to run ahead. She felt distant, like she was somewhere else entirely. Her steps had no life in them.
“Hurry up, slowpoke,” he teased. No response. Not even that flash of lightning in her eyes.
He was miserable. He wanted to say something—hold her, comfort her. But everything he did just seemed to make it worse.
He was relieved when they reached the pasture. Kind hadn’t started teaching yet. Seeker chose a spot near the back. She sat down beside him and nestled close with a soft sigh. He’d learned the secrets of the ancients in the tower—but he’d never figure her out. No, not in a thousand years. Her hand gripped his arm so tightly it hurt. He didn’t pull away.
Kind read from his Book, “Do nothing through contention or vainglory, but in meekness of mind let every man esteem others better than himself. A faint smile touched Beautiful’s lips. Kind glanced her way, voice gentle. “Or every woman than herself.”
Seeker felt the flutter in her chest where she leaned against him. Kind spoke of the Prince, and she hung on every word. He ended with, “Meekness isn’t thinking less of yourself. It’s thinking of yourself less.”
When Kind’s teaching ended, the distance crept back in. They ate lunch together in silence.
“Seeker, I’m tired,” she said quietly. “I’m going to rest in my room for a while.”
They stood in the doorway. He couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Beautiful, I love you. With all my heart.”
“Me too,” she whispered.
He leaned in to kiss her.
She turned, offering her cheek instead.
Seeker waited for Beautiful to come down from her room. She never did. Will she meet me in the dream? She did, but something was off. Outside, winter had arrived—but in the dream, autumn clung to the trees. Reds, golds, and oranges still flamed on every branch. And yet, the colors looked faded. Dimmed. No birds sang. Not one.
They visited all their places—the stream, the waterfalls, the orchard… but something was missing. Every step felt… hollow. No spark. No fire. Only the ache in his chest, sharp and hot.
There’s got to be something I can say. He racked his brain. I got nothing.
They sat in silence for a long time. Then Beautiful turned to him. “Seeker, I have something to tell you.”
Finally. She loved him. He knew that. But something was wrong. Maybe now she’d say what it was. He ran through everything again. Nothing came to mind. What did I miss?
“But not here,” she said softly. “I can’t do this to you here.”
The blood drained from Seeker’s face. She’s going to leave me. He opened his mouth to speak—to plead. He reached for her hand—but she was gone. Just like that.
Alone.
***
Beautiful had made up her mind. Kind’s words still echoed in her heart. She was selfish—wanting Seeker’s love so desperately. Greedily. But she couldn’t give all of herself. Not yet. Maybe not ever. He deserved more. There were so many beautiful Pilgrims—girls who would love him better than she ever could.
She went to him that night. She wanted to savor every moment. Stretch the time. Burn it into her memory, every glance, every laugh. But her guilt ruined it all.
She’d be cruel. Make him hate her—so he could forget. He’d move on. And she would carry her love in silence. Alone. What would it be like… seeing him with someone else. Another girl… hand in hand. No. She couldn’t even picture it. It was too much.
As they sat in silence, she turned the words over in her mind. Not here. Not this place. Not our dream. It had to stay untouched—sacred. A place to return to. To cry. Guilt surged again. Still thinking about herself. Still not about him. But she needed this much. Tomorrow, she promised herself. I’ll tell him tomorrow.
The next morning, she chose her plainest dress. No perfume. She considered leaving her hair wild—like Miss Cheerful. But Seeker loved her curls. Let him look at them one last time. When this was over, she’d talk to Kind. More selfishness.
She spent all morning thinking where to tell him. Someplace that meant nothing to him. Nothing to her either. She couldn’t bear that.
She set out a plate, then another beside it. One last breakfast before he was gone—her final act of selfishness. He stood in the doorway. Tall. Strong. Defiant. Not the sad boy from her dream. Good. That would make this easier. Her heart ached with love for him. At least she’d have this image—to hold on to when everything else was gone.
He didn’t touch the plate. Just beckoned. Headed for the door—toward the Tower. No. Not there. She caught his hand, tugged him off course—away from the Tower. Away from the stairs. And definitely not the stream.
His hand resisted—just for a second. But he followed. Through the wheat fields. Where they first smiled. No. Not here. Across the Narrow Way stood an abandoned farm. Here. Broken fences. Weeds choking the ground—like the words caught in her throat.
“Seeker, this isn’t working. Leave. Forget about me. Be happy.” It was done. Not beautiful. But it served.
He stood there, his eyes as cold as ice, as hard as steel. “Good. I don’t need you. I don’t love—”
She gasped cutting him off mid-sentence. Then the tears came—loud, broken, unstoppable. How could he? Her last ray of hope—gone. She crumpled, shuddering.
His arms wrapped around her—strong, unmoved. “Don’t cry, Beautiful. You’ll be fine. There are a million men who’ll love you.” No sympathy in his voice. Just arrogance. She stayed in his arms. Just for a breath. Even this pain—she’d hold on to it. Then he pushed her away.
“Goodbye,” he said, with finality as he turned away.
She collapsed. Briars bit into her palms. Only then did she feel it—the bitter January cold. A thorn caught on his ragged jacket and tore it with a harsh sound. She saw him shiver.
She’d done this to him. Made him a man. But she’d shattered the heart of the poor boy she loved. There was nothing to cherish in this. Nothing she could live with. She had to make it right. Then she remembered. The jacket she’d sewn for him. In secret.
“Seeker—Seeker, wait…” she called after him, pleading. “I can’t stand to see you cold like this.”
“Please Seeker,” she whispered, voice trembling. “Before you leave me… I have something I want you to have.”
***
Seeker sat next to the hearth, wooden cup trembling in his hands. He took a sip of the spiced wine—still warm. She’d poured it before slipping away upstairs.
He’d had hours to prepare. To harden his heart—be the man she wanted him to be. Had he convinced her? Maybe she would stay. But now he wanted to cut out his own tongue for those cruel words. He wasn’t prepared for her response. It had taken everything—everything—not to fall apart with her.
She appeared with a coat in her hands. “I made this for you.”
It was soft and warm, the seams stitched with small, careful precision. It fit him perfectly. She beamed.
“Can we try it out?” she asked sweetly. “Take me to see the cascades—I hear they are frozen. And beautiful.” A mischievous grin lit across her face as she dashed for the door. “Try to keep up!” she called over her shoulder.
It was as if nothing—absolutely nothing—had happened that morning. He would never understand her. Not in a million years, but he loved her.
And in that moment, he made up his mind. He would never let her go again. Ever.
***
The days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, until spring returned to the Realm of the Interpreter. Seeker and Beautiful were always together—and never once tried to leave each other.
Now and then, Seeker would ask Beautiful to be his wife. Sometimes she said yes. But by day’s end, it always turned to no, and a quiet sadness would return to her eyes. Yet no harsh words ever passed between them.
And so, the days passed, and their love and devotion only deepened. She never once removed the ring with its seven radiant diamonds. To Seeker, she remained as much a mystery as ever.