The Subtle Beauty by Ann Hunter

to have escaped the madness of the preparations inside, especially her overbearing older sisters. Now she waited for the only thing she desired to hear. To her, the world went silent. No birds sang, no cricket chirped.
    “There you are,” his tenor voice chimed.
    She knew he would come. She turned toward the voice and graced the man with a perfect smile. “Colin!”
    “I love when you smile.”
    She ran to the arms of her father’s Royal Falconer. “I am so glad you came.”
    “Why would I not?”
    Glory gazed up at Colin. “Because Father would have your head if he knew.”
    “Let your father worry about his other daughters. Let him especially worry about Lucullia today. What he does not know will not hurt him.”
    “Poor Lucullia,” Glory sighed.
    “Yes. Poor, poor Lucullia… marrying that poor, poor Lord Davenport with hardly an Adamantine Nickel to his name.”
    “It is a good thing falconry pays so well.”
    “Yes, it is.” Colin took Glory’s arm in his and began to walk. He was quiet at the interim. Glory could see, from the corner of her eye, Colin’s gaze fixed on her face. She soaked in the sunlight again, sublimely happy. “A good thing indeed,” Colin said, “for I have been saving every cent.”
    “Why? Are you at last replacing that knife we never found?”
    Colin stopped and swept Glory into an embrace. “Because, Little Bird, soon we will fly away.”
    Glory’s mouth formed a little ‘oh’. Her heart fluttered. “Colin, do you mean it?” Colin laughed and lifted her into the air with an agile spin. “Yes, my love, every word of it.”
    He set her down and took her head into his hands, as if clutching a small bird, and stared into her eyes. “Glory, I love you.”
    He sealed his mouth to hers and held her tightly. They lingered, hanging on the edge of excitement, then Glory pushed him back. Colin lost his balance against a marble bench and fell over it.
    “Oh, Colin, tell me again!”
    Colin chortled. “I love you?”
    “No,” Glory whined with a little stomp of her foot. “Tell me why.”
    “Oh, Glory, because you are so very beautiful.” Colin grasped her lithe fingers in his hands and rose.
    “Tell me more, Colin.”
    “Your eyes are like two glimmering agates, polished by the angels themselves.”
    Glory smiled. “Go on…”
    “Your hair is like the golden fleece, captured by Jason from the serpent at Colchis.” Colin’s hands slid down to Glory’s svelte waist. “Your silhouette is like the hollow wing of a bird that flies on song and rules the sky.”
    Glory giggled as Colin squeezed her hips. “More, Colin. Tell me more! What else do you love about me?”
    “Your voice. When you speak it’s like the skylark’s song. I could hear it for eternity.”
    “Oh, Colin,” Glory sighed.
    “Even the sun worships you.”
    “Oh, Colin, stop!” Glory laughed, “You are too much.”
    Colin seemed lost in her presence. He was beaming like an idiot, obviously reveling at how supple Glory felt in his grasp.
    The grin on Glory’s face vanished. “I didn’t really mean that.”
    Colin’s face was blank. “What?”
    “I said, ‘Stop’, but I didn’t mean it.”
    “Uh… your shoulders are like two snowy doves?”
    Glory sighed exasperatedly. “Must you compare me to avians, you birdbrain?”
    “But I love birds…”
    Glory pivoted abruptly, whisking herself away. She wasn’t really angry with him. She counted to three under her breath. She knew he would follow like a pup at any moment. Sure enough, she heard his boots crunch against the gravel.
    “Glory, wait!”
    Glory paused. Colin’s hand reached for hers and turned her toward him.
    “You are absolutely right. You are far more beautiful than any bird. Birds are jejune. Birds can not hold a candle to you.”
    Glory smiled smugly.
    “It does make me so happy to see you smile. I am sure the gods forged the sun from your very smile. How unfortunate Lord Davenport will not be able to afford teeth for