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.
