Beautiful

    Beautiful gasped.  “Great-Saint!”  Then she bolted toward the Narrow Way.  Seeker blinked, startled, and broke into a run after her.  A lone traveler in simple clothes was walking the path—no staff, no satchel.  Beautiful reached him first.  She threw her arms around him and didn’t let go.

    The stranger was barely taller than Beautiful.  His face was hard—fierce, even—but his eyes shone with a familiar light.  With Beautiful’s arms around him, he gently patted her back and tried to shrug as his eyes met Seeker’s.

    “Great-Saint!  Oh, it’s good to see you.  What are you doing here?  It’s been so long!  Are you headed to the Dark Land?  Are you stopping at the Cottage?  For the night?”

    When Seeker reached her side, she grasped his hand.  “You have to meet Seeker.  I made him sandwiches, and… oh, I’m getting ahead of myself.  I love him.  And we’re getting married.  But first…”

    She stopped abruptly, her face flushing red.  Then she grinned and glanced away.  She always looked adorable when she did that.  She turned to Seeker.  “Seeker, this is my brother, Great-Saint.”

    Great-Saint’s handshake was firm—strong.  He studied Seeker’s hand for a moment.  “Your hands are soft,” he said, like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.  “But I can tell—you have a good heart.”

   Beautiful cut in.  “What am I going to do?  Mom and Dad will never let him marry me.  I’ve thought about it for so long, and I still can’t figure it out.”  Then she added, softer, but certain, “But the King sent him to me.  I know it.”

    Great-Saint placed a hand on Seeker’s shoulder as the three of them began walking toward the Cottage.  “Have you heard of Hosea?” he asked, thoughtful.

    “Yes,” Seeker said.  “The King commanded Hosea to marry Gomer—she was a prostitute.  And when she went back to her trade, Hosea loved her so much he searched for her and brought her back home.”  His eyes settled on a rock in the trail.  “It’s an allegory,” he said quietly.  “About the King—and wayward Pilgrims.”

    Great-Saint looked at Seeker with a mix of surprise and approval, “Can you love my sister like that?”

    Beautiful’s eyes flared.  “Great-Saint!”  She slapped his arm.

    Seeker didn’t hesitate.  “I love her.  I’ll love her, no matter what—like the Prince loves the flock.  If I have to, I’ll work for her seven years.  No, fourteen, like Jacob did for Rachel.  And it’ll feel like just a few days.”

    Great-Saint nodded.  As they walked, he spoke about Gomer.  And Hosea.  He didn’t stop.  His voice was steady—eloquent.  Almost like one of Stern’s sermons.  Seeker glanced at Beautiful.  She liked to talk, too.  Must run in the family.  He chuckled to himself.

    They stopped at the path leading to the Cottage.  “Eat lunch with us,” Beautiful said.  “There’s so much to talk about.”

    “No,” Great-Saint said firmly. “I intend to be home before sunset.  Empty stomach for walking—and Mom’s broiled fish for dinner.” 

    “Broiled fish,” Beautiful sighed.  “Miss Cheerful’s stew would be so much better with fish in it.”  She wrinkled her nose, then giggled.

    Great-Saint placed his hands on Seeker’s shoulders.  “Seeker, I like you.”  Then he turned to Beautiful.  “Pack your bag, Beautiful, and come visit.  Tender-Hearted will be there too.  And bring Seeker.”

    “Great-Saint… can I really bring him?  Will Dad?  Will Mom…”

    Great-Saint turned back to Seeker.  “The journey can be hard.  I trust you to take care of Beautiful on the trip.  I’ll introduce you as my friend.”

    He took Beautiful’s hand in one of his and Seeker’s in the other.  “The rest will be up to you.”  He met Seeker’s gaze.  “Don’t doubt.  If the King truly sent you to Beautiful, it will all work out.  My parents will give their blessing.”

   With those words, he turned and headed south on the Narrow Way—and was gone.

 

    Seeker didn’t say a word as the crowd slowly left—even the sheep seemed unusually hushed.

   Beautiful turned to him.  “What’s your plan for today?”

   “Not sure, baby.  Maybe a bit of reading in the tower.  Anything new you’re working on?”

    “I’m bored, Seeker,” she said, sticking out her lower lip in a pout.

   “What’s new, Beautiful?  You’re always bored.” 

   “Let’s do something fun,” she said.  “Some kind of adventure.  Like we used to.”

    “How about the stream?” he asked.

   “Boring,” she said flatly.  “Besides, we went there last night.  It’s so much more fun in the Dream, where we can splash without getting wet.”

   “Getting wet’s the point of water.”

   “That’s easy for you to say,” she said. “You don’t have long, curly hair like me.”  She emphasized the word curly.  She knew he adored her curls.  She always knew how to win.

    A young shepherd boy ran up to them, breathless, with scraps of paper flapping in one hand and a stub of charcoal in the other.  Black smudges streaked his cheeks and nose.  “Ma’am, ma’am,” he called to Beautiful, “Draw a picture?”

    “Miss,” she snapped.

    The boy didn’t hear her—or didn’t care.  He turned to Seeker instead, eyes wide and eager.  “Sir, just a couple of coins.  Mama’s sick.  Draw a picture of your wife?”

    “Just call me Seeker—”

    “Not his wife… yet,” Beautiful said, ruffling his hair.

    Then she sat, folded her hands in her lap, tossed back her hair, and tilted her head slightly.

    The boy couldn’t have been more than ten—but he was good.  He sketched slowly, carefully, while Beautiful posed with a soft smile.  The proportions were right.  The shading was—flawless, really.  Now and then, the boy glanced up.  First at her.  Then at Seeker.

    When the boy finished, he handed the sketch to Seeker.  It was beautiful.  Clean lines.  Balanced shading.  But something felt… off.  He couldn’t quite place it.  His brow furrowed.

    Beautiful snatched it from his hands.  “This doesn’t look like me at all.”  She studied the drawing, then looked at Seeker.  Then back at the paper.  “It looks more like him than me, you little rascal.  Only—” She burst out laughing.

    “Begging your pardon, ma’am,” the boy said, glancing at Seeker, then back at her.  “I drew your daughter, not you.”

    Beautiful’s mouth fell open.  A tear slipped down her cheek.

   “Wait…” she said softly, holding the picture closer.  “You mean you—combined us?”

   The boy just grinned.

   Seeker blinked.  Not Beautiful.  Not him.  A little of both.

    “I think it’s wonderful,” Seeker said, his voice barely above a whisper.

    Beautiful pulled a silver coin from her handbag, pressed it into the boy’s hand, then curled his fingers around it.  “Your mama’s going to be okay,” she said.  “If she doesn’t get better soon, bring her to the Cottage.  You know where that is, right?”

    The boy nodded.

    “If she’s too sick, you come,” Beautiful added.  “Ask for Beautiful.”  She hesitated, then added, “Or Miss Cheerful.  One of us will come help her.”

    The boy gave a deep, awkward bow, then scampered off.

    Seeker stood there, gazing at the picture for a long time.

    “I love it,” he said at last.

    “Me too,” she replied, squeezing his hand.

    Seeker and Beautiful sat together in the pasture, listening to Kind teach, his voice ringing clear over the morning calm.  She leaned against Seeker, holding his hand tightly, hanging on every word Kind said. 

   Kind paused, looking out over the Pilgrims gathered.  A nearby sheep bleated.  “Remember, husbands:  you should love your wives, the same way the Prince loved the flock.  He laid down his life for it.”

      Faint-Resolve sat next to him.  Seeker stood and turned toward him.  “How are things at the Slough?”    

    Faint-Resolve smiled—just enough to soften his usual gruffness. “Nothing’s the same since Companion left.  Not much longer and my time here is up, too.”

   Beautiful waved at Gracious, then paused to chat with Miss Fair-Glance.  After a minute or two, she smiled and waved goodbye.

    Faint-Resolve’s eyes trailed after Miss Fair-Glance as she walked away.  A wave of fury burst from Beautiful.  Seeker had never seen her like that before.  Her blazing eyes nearly blinded him.

   She leveled her gaze at Faint-Resolve.  “Didn’t you hear a single word Kind said?” she shouted, trembling in rage. 

   Faint-Resolve looked back at her, confusion clouding his face.

   “Don’t try to act innocent,” she snapped, pointing straight at him.  “You know what you’re doing.  Everyone does.  But most of all, your wife knows.”

    Faint-Resolve’s face paled.  “It’s not like that,” he said quietly. “She reminds me of my wife.  When she was young.”

    Beautiful stood tall, her feet planted firmly, fists on her hips.  She barely reached Faint-Resolve’s shoulders. But somehow, she towered over him.   Seeker shifted uneasily.  Gracious laughed nervously.  Tirzah just nodded.  Kind beamed at her, like a daughter he was proud of.  Seeker felt sorry for Faint-Resolve.  Beautiful was humiliating him.

    “You humiliate your wife,” she continued.  “She would die of shame.   At least be a man about it—look at Fair-Glance straight on.  Not out of the corner of your eyes.  Like a thief stealing just a bite of bread.”

    “I. I. I…” he stammered, “I love my wife.”

    “Is that how the Prince loves his flock?” she demanded.

    “I’m sorry,” he said.  His voice cracked.  Seeker believed him.

    “Don’t apologize to me.  Beg the King for forgiveness.  Beg your wife.”

    The storm had passed.  A tender look crept into her eyes.  “Yes.  She can forgive.”  She paused a heartbeat.  “She will forgive.  There is always forgiveness.”

   All the color had drained from Faint-Resolve’s face.  “Thank you, Miss Beautiful,” he said quietly.  “I will remember your advice.  I promise.”

    He kept his promise.  And from that day on, no one called him Faint-Resolve again.

    Seeker leaned in and kissed Beautiful goodnight, right there in front of the cottage.  She would never get over how good that felt—the soft press of his lips, the way the spring air seemed to hush around them.  The perfect end to a perfect day.

   “I love you,” he said.

   Beautiful pursed her lips, already feeling the irritation welling up.  “Me too,” she whispered. 

    His eyes said he wanted more.  How many times had she told him?  But not everything needed to be said aloud.  He needed to learn to feel her heart.  She loved him—dearly.  He said it with his mouth, but she shouted it with her heart.  He was capable of feeling it—no, he did feel it.  So why ruin the perfect day?

    She knew exactly what came next.  She had counted—he’d asked her six times, and six times she’d said yes.  Well, maybe not with her mouth.  But he should just know.  There was no other man in her life but him.  And there never would be.

    “Beautiful, I want you to be my wife.”

    Wife!  How sweet that sounded—somehow, she had known it from the very first day.  So why did he have to put it into words?  Her temper flared.  Sometimes he could be a dumb little baby.  No—she stopped herself.  That was his word now.  She was his baby, and he was her strong Odysseus.

    She’d spoken to Gracious about this.  “Sometimes you need to tell men straight out,” Gracious had said.  She couldn’t imagine Steadfast being this impossible.  Maybe she’d give it a try—nothing else seemed to work.

    She took Seeker’s hand and led him into the cottage, to the hearth, where she sat in front of the fire, and pulled him down beside her.

    “Seeker, I love you with all my heart.  I will be your wife.  I will be with you.  Forever.”   She sighed.  That wasn’t so bad—maybe Gracious hadn’t been completely wrong after all.  Still, she couldn’t quite picture Gracious treating Steadfast like this.  Seeker looked so happy.  And she was so happy, too.

    Then the familiar sadness washed over her.  How could she make him understand?  She’d struggled with this for so long.  What he asked for was impossible.  Yes, she would always love him.  But being his wife was an unreachable dream.  But maybe.  Just maybe.  At least he could share her pain.  He always did.  He always understood her.

    “But Seeker,” she said at last.  “You are asking the wrong person.  I’ve always known I would marry you—from that first time, when I made you the sandwich.”

    You have to win my parents’ hearts.  I can’t.  No, I won’t marry you without their permission.  And that’s impossible, you know.”  There.  She had said it—aloud, with words.

   Seeker laughed.  Hadn’t he heard what she’d just said?

   “They will love me.”

   She gazed deep into his eyes, then sighed and leaned against him, the fire roaring merrily.  

    Her doubt was gone.

 

    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.

    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.

    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.

    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.

    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 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.