Chapter Ten

Freddy

F reddy had imagined a number of different scenarios for the moment he finally found his wife.

None of them had involved being threatened with knitting needles and carding combs.

But despite the intimidating glares and threats to his personal well-being being leveled by the somewhat frightening little grandmothers who had forced him into a wooden rocking chair before peppering him with questions, Freddy could honestly admit he wouldn't have it any other way.

Because he had finally found her.

When he knocked on the door to the little sod house, he had expected to be sent on yet another chase. Though he had guessed that Lizzie was traveling to Norditch, after leaving Shea behind in his home kingdom of Cabriole, Freddy had followed a number of false leads before finally spotting the horse tack with the Nedran crest hanging on the wall of a blacksmith's shop. The blacksmith had pointed him to the ferryman, who was able to recall—with the help of a silver coin—a young woman traveling alone who had been dropped at the docks near a town called Schnebel.

When he had caught sight of Lizzie's familiar profile and golden hair over the old woman's shoulder, Freddy had been certain it was all in his imagination. Then she turned, and he caught sight of the blue eyes that had haunted his dreams for the last ten years, and he knew.

It was Lizzie.

"What do you mean, she's your wife?" The older of the two poked him in the chest with a knitting needle. "Eliza left before she could be married."

Freddy craned his neck to look between the guard dogs to where Lizzie sat, cool and collected with her hands folded on her lap. She was still wearing the dress he had seen her in that night almost three weeks ago, though it was looking much worse for wear now. Her cheeks were slightly gaunt, and there were dark circles under her eyes, evidence of the toll that her long journey had taken on her.

She's never had to live on her own before. How did she find food? Where did she sleep?

A throat cleared loudly, and Freddy slowly forced his eyes away from Lizzie and back to the old woman. The one with the carding combs crossed her arms in front of her chest and tapped her foot impatiently.

"She was married by proxy. The king signed the marriage certificate on her behalf." Freddy reached into his pocket and pulled out the precious piece of paper. "Because she's his daughter, he had the legal right to do so."

The oldest scoffed as she snatched the certificate out of his hands. "Being legal doesn't make it ethical. As I always say, ‘A right can be wrong if not done the right way, and a wrong right ought to be left behind.'"

"That one should go on a pillow," her compatriot muttered as she leaned over to read the document over her shoulder.

Freddy was still trying to puzzle the saying out when the carding comb wielder suddenly looked up at him sharply. "What did you say your name was?"

"Malakai, or Kai, for short." He knew they were looking at his signature on the bottom of the certificate, and he prayed that they would go along with him until he had the chance to explain everything to Lizzie on his own.

An unspoken conversation took place between them. The oldest refolded the document carefully along the creases and handed it back. "Well, Kai, I suppose congratulations are in order. You can call me Mormor. This is Norva. Your bride is a special girl, you know."

He met Mormor's eyes, which looked much kinder when she wasn't waving knitting needles in his face, and lowered his voice. "She's not just special; she's priceless."

Freddy's answer seemed to mollify Mormor, and Norva was so pleased that she beamed at him before tossing her carding combs to the side. "Oh, Eliza! This calls for a wedding feast."

"Does it?" Mormor held her hand to her ear. "I don't hear anything calling."

"That's because your hearing was the first thing to go. Kai, how do you feel about rhubarb?"

Freddy grinned in amusement. "I can't say that I've ever tried it, ma'am."

"Oh, what manners!" Norva patted his cheek affectionately. "Though you can just call me Norva; ma'am makes me feel old."

Mormor was already stoking the fire in the stove, and she called over her shoulder, "You are old."

"But still not as old as you."

Freddy tuned out their good-natured argument and focused his attention on Lizzie. She was still rigidly glued in her position by the spinning wheel, and if her eyes hadn't followed Norva across the room, he might have been convinced she was a very lifelike statue.

He swallowed, suddenly nervous, and approached her. "Would you join me outside for a moment?"

A flash of anger appeared in her eyes, so quickly that it was gone as soon as he registered it. "If I must."

But anger is better than nothing, which is what I usually get. At this point, I'll take any emotion that she'll give me.

She stood gracefully and pushed past him, gathering a thin woolen coat from a spindly rack and escaping out the door before Freddy had a chance to open it for her.

"Don't go too far," Norva called.

He gave her a grin and saluted, which earned him a chuckle in response, and then charged after his wife. "Lizzie, wait!"

He found her already a few yards down the street, with her arms hugged around her waist as she walked. He cringed at the thought that he had already made her upset.

I lied when I said I'd take any emotion. I just want to make her happy.

"Lizzie, can we talk?"

She stopped and rounded on him. "Who told you to call me that?" The question was a confusing mix of accusatory words and an indifferent tone.

"What do you mean?"

"You called me Lizzie."

"I…yes?"

"My name is Eliza. No one calls me Lizzie anymore, and if my father thought it would endear you to me, he was wrong. I don't find anyone endearing."

Freddy searched her face, beautiful and familiar and yet achingly foreign. He was certain that Lizzie would recognize him up close if given the chance, despite the change in hair color and the obnoxious beard. After all, she had once known him better than anyone else.

But as he looked into her eyes, he saw no spark of recognition, no sign that she knew him as anyone other than the wandering minstrel who had been the fortunate winner in Alfred's ill-planned scheme. His heart fell to his toes.

"You don't know who I am?"

"I know that you are Kai, a second-rate minstrel who happened to be in the right place at the right time."

She shivered, and Freddy belatedly realized that her arms were huddled around her not out of sadness, but because she was cold. He quickly shrugged out of his own coat and threw it around her shoulders.

"What are you doing?"

"Your coat isn't nearly warm enough for this environment." A brisk breeze blew at that moment, biting him with a chill that went straight to his bones.

"But now you're not wearing a coat."

He waved her words away. "I'll be fine."

He lied. Freddy's southern blood was much too thin for the snowy climate, and he was now counting down the moments until they returned to the warmth of the fire.

Lizzie seemed to accept his words at face value, and she pulled the edges of his coat tighter. Spots of red on her fingers caught his attention, and before Freddy fully realized what he was doing, he had captured her hands, turning them over in dismay. Her hands were red and chapped, and the skin on the tips of her fingers had split. "What happened?"

She looked at her hands far more clinically than he had. "I would imagine a combination of cold air, attempts at basket weaving, and spinning yarn."

He ran his thumbs gently over the back of her hands. Now that he was finally touching her again, he couldn't bring himself to let go. A grin pulled at his mouth. "You tried basket weaving?"

Lizzie pulled free. "Of course I did. I need a marketable skill."

He had to clasp his hands behind his back to keep from reaching for her again. "Why did you need a marketable skill?"

"Economics, of course. If I want to be able to buy food and wood for a fire, I need a way to make money. Begging is an option, of course, but it would be far more consistent and profitable to learn a skill or trade."

Freddy's smile grew. There, underneath the frosty cold exterior, was the resourceful and resilient Lizzie that he knew and loved.

She's a princess who has never had to worry about meeting her own physical needs. She could have whined and cried until someone took pity on her, or used her royal status to get her way, but instead she found the practical solution and worked for it.

"Shall I look to you to fulfill all our basket needs?"

"My attempt was hardly worthy of being called a basket. I had much better success with spinning."

His eyes dropped once more to her split, bleeding fingertips. "But at what cost?"

She shrugged. "I'm sure they'll callous eventually. And you? Do you have any marketable skills other than amateur lute-playing?"

"Amateur?" He held a hand to his chest as if offended. "I'll have you know I am a professional."

"Your voice is untrained, and your technique is sloppy."

The words were delivered in such a factual, impersonal way that Freddy felt like his only two options were to laugh or cry. He chose to laugh.

"Amateurs play without compensation. I am paid for my performances, therefore making me a professional." Another gust of wind blew, and Freddy tensed his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering.

"I am certain that your audience members are paying you so that you'll stop."

That drew another laugh.

I can't tell if she's joking or being serious, but I don't know that it matters. She's here. We're having a real conversation, even if it's at my expense.

"Although, I suppose that now that you've married into royalty, you expect not to have to worry about an income anymore."

She really doesn't recognize me. Freddy's smile slipped, but he rallied. But maybe it's better this way. This is a blank slate; a chance to prove to her that she's worthy of being loved for more than just her title, that she should expect more from a man than thinly-veiled opportunism and verbal abuse. Alfred made her afraid of royalty…maybe a beggar is just what she needs.

"I didn't marry you for your money, Li—I mean, Eliza."

I married you because I love you. Every day and always.

"I'm sure you can't deny that it was a pleasant surprise. After all, it's not every day that a minstrel walks into a ballroom to perform for a king and leaves engaged to a princess."

I walked in already engaged to a princess.

Lizzie continued, "For someone accustomed to relying on the goodwill of strangers to fund their next meal, the rise in social status must be a welcome change."

Freddy shrugged. "Except King Alfred made it clear that I can expect no special treatment because of our connection. In fact, I believe his words were something along the lines of, ‘Your wife, your problem.'"

"Ah. So I am a problem, then. A further burden on your limited resources."

There was something about the cold, matter-of-fact way she said the words that broke his heart, as if it were a matter of course that if she had nothing to give, she would have no value.

His restraint left him, and he reached for her arm, touching her elbow gently to ensure he had her attention. "You are neither a problem nor a burden, Eliza," he stated firmly. "It is an honor to be married to you, and I will do everything I can to ensure that you are comfortable and taken care of." His eyes dropped to her chapped and bleeding hands. "Starting with getting you a pair of gloves. And a warmer coat."

Lizzie pulled away again. "What I have is sufficient."

"It's not, especially with the long journey ahead of us. You'd turn into an icicle before we made it out of Cabriole."

"We're returning to Nedra?"

"Sort of." Freddy paused, wondering how much to reveal at once. Now that he had decided to woo her without the barrier of his own title, it would seem strange for him to tell her that the Kystan palace was their final destination. "My family is from Kysta, and I would like to introduce you to my mother. Is that acceptable?"

There was a slight moment of hesitation. "Of course."

"Are you sure?" Freddy knew he was wading into potentially dangerous waters, but he couldn't help probing just a little bit. "It won't be awkward or painful for you? If I remember correctly, you were engaged to Kysta's prince. A minstrel is quite a step down from that on the social ladder."

Lizzie's jaw was tight. "It won't be a problem. It was a political match; I'm not in love with Freddy."

She might as well have stabbed a dagger through his heart, though Freddy knew he had only himself to blame for her cold admission. If he hadn't asked the question, he wouldn't have heard the answer. Tears stung his eyes, freezing at the corners in the icy air, and it was hard to keep his smile in place.

But still, he told himself, looking desperately for a bright spot. It's good to know where she stands. And I suppose it will be easier to win her if I don't have to compete with myself.

"In that case, we'll leave tomorrow."