“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.”
Chapter Eleven
Lizzie, 15 years old
“Look, Philip! Did you see that little one? That’s called a hummingbird. They’re very fast and small, but they can be quite ferocious if they think you’ll endanger their nests.”
The toddler holding onto her fingers with his chubby fist said nothing in response as he looked around the garden with wide-eyed delight. Not that her little brother said much, anyway, much to her father’s frustration. Philip was not an idiot, despite what King Alfred shouted in his angry tirades at their mother. His bright, intelligent eyes seemed to see and absorb nearly everything, and already at nearly two years old he could recognize some of the frequently used words in his storybooks, pointing them out when asked.
He just never talked.
