When they reached the village, Beautiful slipped her hand from Seeker’s and turned to face him. “Seeker, dear. Forget what you know about the Dark Land—the sailors, the taverns, the whore-houses. This is Bright-Harbor.” She hesitated, choosing her words. “You can’t hold my hand. Or kiss me,” she added quickly, “not in public.”
“Everyone knows everyone here, and rumors spread fast. We haven’t even arrived, and they’re already talking. I’m not ashamed of you, Seeker. It’s just how things are here.”
Seeker nodded.
The village stretched along the shoreline. Waves lapped softly at the sand. The smell of salt hung thick in the air. Lanterns lined the coast, casting light across the water—revealing small fishing boats rocking in the dark.
The houses were small, built with vertical planks and shingled wooden roofs. Each one had a yard—some with gardens, some with laundry or fishing nets hung on poles—surrounded by whitewashed, waist-high stone walls.
Beautiful slipped into an alley between two houses, tugging Seeker after her. She let go when they reached a black-painted iron gate.
She looked at ease—but still strangely tense. “This is where I was born, Seeker.” She pressed on the gate, and it swung open.
Seeker ducked his head and followed her through. The yard inside was cozy, but spacious. The house had a low slate roof and an open porch with sliding doors. It was finely crafted—but built for survival, not beauty. Beside it stood a smaller building, and across the yard, a shed and what looked like an outhouse. He chuckled to himself. The gate, the buildings—everything was scaled perfectly to Beautiful’s height.
On the far side grew a well-tended vegetable garden, bordered by rows of fruit trees—dozens of them. Heavy, orange fruit hung from the branches—fleshy and smooth. He didn’t recognize them.
Great-Saint stepped out of the house and took Seeker’s hand. “You’re finally here. I’ve been waiting all day.”
A tiny woman appeared in the doorway—at least a half a head shorter than Beautiful. But Seeker had never seen a tougher-looking woman in his life. Wiry, strong—she’d clearly lived a hard life.
Her hair was short and tightly curled, and the fierceness in her eyes made Seeker flinch. She glared at him. “I know why you’re here,” she said. “I’ll never let you marry her. You won’t take my Beautiful from me.”
“Leave!” she shouted.
“Mom!” Beautiful and Great-Saint exclaimed together.
Great-Saint placed a hand on Seeker’s shoulder and gently guided him toward the guest house. Beautiful took her mother’s hand and stepped inside, turning briefly to mouth, It’ll be OK.
The guest house was small—if he stretched out his arms, he could almost touch both walls. Aside from a narrow bed, there was no furniture. Great-Saint left and returned a minute later with a blanket and a pillow. “Dad’s out fishing. He’ll be gone most of the night. Rest now, Seeker. We’ll see you in the morning.”
Seeker lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling until sleep finally took him. This wasn’t how he imagined it would go.
***
Seeker woke to a kiss on his forehead. Beautiful was leaning over him, her eyes dancing with amusement. “Mom made breakfast for you,” she said—then giggled. “Us.”
She took his hand and led him into the house. “Make sure you call her Mom” she said, eyes gleaming.
She led him into the main room. A low fire burned in the hearth. Her mother was already seated at the table in the center. She glared at him—though something in her face had softened. But only a little.
Three places were set—one for Beautiful, her mother, and him. In the center sat small loaves of bread with thick, dark crusts, and a platter of fish—skin still sizzling, eyes still staring.
His own eyes went wide. How had he fallen in love with a fisherman’s daughter and never once considered he’d have to eat fish—for breakfast.
He leaned close and whispered in Beautiful’s ear, “Any chance you still have coffee in your pack?” Then, a little louder—stammering, “I’m… not really that hungry.”
“Oh. You said you loved me,” she said, eyes sparkling with delight. “Now prove it.” She chose the largest fish and dropped it onto his plate—then picked up his fork and pressed it into his hand.
Beautiful and her mother were both watching him. So was the fish. He used the fork to break off a piece.
“Don’t eat the skin, dumb—” Beautiful glanced at her mom and stopped herself.
Beautiful pulled the plate toward her, sliced the fish down the center, peeled back the skin, and lifted a forkful of white meat. Then, using her own fork, she placed it in Seeker’s mouth.
“Beautiful!” her mother snapped.
“Mom!” Beautiful snapped back, eyes flashing like lightning.
“Yum,” Seeker said, trying to sound convincing.
Beautiful’s mom laughed—and then smiled. Beautiful turned to Seeker and smiled sweetly.
Beautiful slid the plate back in front of him. “Try not to eat the bones.”
Seeker watched Beautiful eat—he’d never seen her enjoy a meal like this. She chattered happily between bites. Maybe fish for breakfast wasn’t so bad after all.
When he finished the last bite, he set his fork down. Beautiful jabbed his ribs. “Thank you, Mom,” she mouthed.
“Thank you, Mom,” he said quietly.
“Leave!” Beautiful’s mom shouted.
Beautiful nearly choked on her laughter, tears streaming down her face.
“Dad has an extra-special treat for you,” she managed, still laughing. “You’re going to love it.”
***
Seeker and Beautiful walked with Great-Saint along the path that followed the beach. The ocean stretched as far as the eye could see, morning light glistening on the waves. Overhead, a gull cried out.
Beautiful reached for Seeker’s hand—but then stopped short. Great-Saint walked between them, speaking earnestly as they walked. Then without warning, he stopped. He took Seeker’s hand in one of his, and Beautiful’s in the other—then gently joined them together. “What the King has joined together, let no one separate.”
When they reached a small house on the far side of the village, Beautiful knocked on the door and called out “Tender-Heart! It’s me—Beautiful!”
A young woman opened the door. She was unmistakably Beautiful’s sister—slightly older, with shoulder-length hair. “Seeker,” she said warmly. “Come in. Great-Saint has told me so much about you.” Her voice was quiet and melodious, but timid.
What had Great-Saint even said about him? He hadn’t said more than a dozen words since they met.
The room was small. A baby girl played on the floor, toys scattered around her. Shelves lined the wall, crammed with books. Tender-Heart motioned to one couch and sat on the other. Beautiful sat beside Seeker—pressed close, holding his hand in both of hers.
A man stepped through the door. “This is my husband, Eager-Mind,” Tender-Heart said. His appearance was striking—bright eyes and a confident smile.
Seeker cupped his hand around Beautiful’s ear and whispered, “You never told me your sister’s husband was so handsome.”
Beautiful laughed easily, “That’s nothing. Wait till you see Considerate’s husband. You have a high standard to live up to.”
Tender-Heart asked how he’d met Beautiful—and how he’d become a Pilgrim. They talked about Uncertain, his love for music, and his studies. Then she asked about his Book.
Eager-Mind sat quietly, nodding as Seeker spoke. He told them about the book he’d wanted—the one he couldn’t afford from the peddler. Eager-Mind stood and crossed the room to one of the shelves.
He took a black leather-bound book, embossed with silver lettering, and placed it in Seeker’s hands. Redemption of Eva.
He opened the book and forgot everything else—Tender-Heart. Eager-Mind. Even Beautiful:
The Great Red Dragon towered over Eva
“You’re back, Lady Evadne,” he hissed. “No matter how many times the Author resets the story, you will never win.”
He sneered, “Lord Peregrine,” he said, the title curling in his mouth like rot. “He’ll always die, Madame. You know that.”
Eva raised the Shield of Faith, sheltering behind it just in time. Then the Dread Lord Beelzebub walked boldly through the fire—and stood at her side.
“Traitor!” spat the Dragon.
Beautiful shook his arm. “Seeker!”
He blinked, “Huh?”
Eager-Mind repeated, “You can have it. It’s my gift to you.”
“Thank you,” Seeker and Beautiful said together.
Seeker slid onto the floor, settling among the toys. The little girl smiled at him and offered him a doll.
“I want to have a daughter, just like her,” he said.
Beautiful slid beside him, lifted the girl into her lap, and smoothed her hair. “We will,” she said. “I promise.”
Beautiful stood and reached for Seeker’s hand. “Let’s not keep Dad waiting. You’ve got a promise to keep.” Then, more softly— “To me.”
***
Beautiful’s father was already awake when they returned. His skin was sun-darkened, rough from years of wind and rain. He’d removed the cover from the well and was hauling something up with a long rope.
“Dad caught an octopus, last night.” Beautiful said, her face lighting up. “It’s a very special treat, you know.”
Beautiful’s father handed it to her. It wriggled in her hands, and she squealed with delight. Seeker’s eyes widened.
He held out his hand. Seeker had never felt hands so strong—or so rough.
“Seeker,” he said, warmth in his face. “Come have a drink with me. Let’s talk.”
Beautiful’s father led him into the house, sat down on the wooden floor, and gestured for Seeker to do the same. Along one wall, blankets and pillows had been neatly folded and stacked.
Beautiful carried a small table and set it between Seeker and her father, then sat beside her father. Her mother followed, forks in one hand and a plate of octopus in the other. She placed them on the table and took her seat on his other side.
It wasn’t even cooked. The tentacles still wriggled on the plate. His throat tightened. He searched Beautiful’s eyes. There was no teasing this time. He had no choice. Eat it… or lose her.
Her father reached behind him and set a bottle and two glasses on the table. He pulled the cork, handed Seeker the bottle, and held out his glass.
Beautiful’s eyes met his. She nodded. He filled her father’s glass, then started to pour his own. She shook her head—mouthing the word no. Her father took the bottle and filled Seeker’s glass himself.
Beautiful’s father downed the clear liquid in one swallow. Seeker did the same. It burned on the way down—but he didn’t flinch.
Beautiful’s father picked up a fork, stabbed a tentacle, took a bite, and chewed thoughtfully. Beautiful and her mother each took a fork and began to eat.
Beautiful seemed to enjoy it. How bad could it be? He picked up a fork, carefully chose a piece, and swallowed without chewing. It latched onto the back of his throat. He almost gagged. Beautiful snickered—quietly.
Her father poured him another glass and handed him the bottle. Seeker started to pour him a second in return—when her mother snatched the glass away.
“No,” she said emphatically.
Seeker took another bite of the octopus. This time, he chewed. It didn’t taste bad. It was just… chewy. He washed it down with the liquor.
Beautiful’s father started to pour him a third.
“Dad!” Beautiful snapped, eyes flashing.
He ignored her—and kept pouring.
Seeker swallowed it in one gulp. Beautiful’s father gave him a long look—and nodded.
“You love Beautiful.” It wasn’t a question.
Beautiful’s mother suddenly screamed. “I won’t let Beautiful marry him!”
Beautiful’s father placed a calm hand over his wife’s. Beautiful slid to the other side of the table and took Seeker’s hand in hers.
“I love Beautiful. I always will,” the words came easily—maybe it was the liquor. “There’s nothing I won’t do for her. Even if it costs me my last breath.”
Beautiful’s eyes blazed—brighter than the sun, lighting the room. Her mother’s eyes softened. Her father just nodded.
“Beautiful will stay here. You’ll return alone,” he said. “When you’ve built her a home”—he gestured around them— “When you can care for her… come back. You have my blessing.”
Beautiful squeezed his hand tight—then stabbed a still-wriggling piece of octopus and shoved it in his mouth.
***
Seeker woke with Beautiful nestled against his back. He turned to face her. She kissed him—long and lingering—until she finally pulled away, both of them gasping for breath.
“You have to leave today,” she said. “I wish I could come with you.”
“We have our blessing,” he said. “That’s all that matters. It’s only a matter of time.”
She sat up and hugged her knees. “It’s not quite the blessing you think it is, Seeker.” A cloud passed over her face. “He knows it will take years. And he knows…”—she swallowed hard— “you won’t come back for me.”
“But he doesn’t know you like I do.”
“I wrote something for you,” he said, digging in his satchel. Then he laughed softly. “Or… at least copied a few lines from the Song of Songs.”
Who is she who comes from the South?
As Beautiful as the Moon,
As bright as the Sun,
Come with me,
My love,
My dove,
My purest,The winter has ended,
And the spring has appeared,
It is the season of song.Arise,
My Beautiful.
Feed me with apples—
I am love-sick!The world is filled with beauty…
But none are Beautiful like you.
A tear glistened in her eye. “That’s beautiful,” she said. They sat there, holding hands. Silence filled the air—thick with heartache.
“Oh, Beautiful,” he said at last. “I can’t bear the ache. I’m going to miss you so much.”
“It’ll only feel like a few days, baby,” she said. “You said it yourself. Besides… I’ll visit your dreams every night. I promise.”
“Before you go,” she said softly, “I have something for you.”
She held up her hand, turning it slightly, letting the light cascade over the brilliant diamonds. “I wear this as a promise that I am yours. Never doubt that.”
She reached into the neckline of her dress and drew out a golden ring, hanging from a fine silver chain. Turning away, she lifted her hair. “Help me unclasp the necklace, Seeker.”
She placed the ring in his palm. Inset with onyx, it was flanked on either side by engraved trees.
“The King’s messenger, Secret, commanded me to carry it—until I found the one who would walk with me to the Celestial City. That it belonged to him.”
She took the ring from Seeker’s palm and slid it onto his finger. It fit perfectly. “That it belongs to you,” she said, her voice full of awe.
“Wear this as a sacred promise,” she said. “Not just to me—but to the King.”
“And remember,” she said—lightning flashing, and sunlight blazing in her eyes—“You are mine. And only mine.”
