And so walking it was, at least until he could either find a more reasonable seller or find a way to make more money on the way.
He set to work refilling their canteens and cleaning up the campsite while Lizzie finished her breakfast. The tent was nearly down; all that was left was to roll the canvas and untie the support rope. Freddy looked over his shoulder while he worked on the canvas and was surprised to find her just standing there, watching him.
“Could you start on one of the knots?” He looked pointedly at one of the anchor points. “That would help us get on the road faster.”
Lizzie, as he was coming to expect, said nothing. Freddy turned back to his task with a sigh.
It’s only been a few days. I can’t expect there to be a huge change overnight.
She was still standing in front of the rope, looking at it with a blank expression when the canvas was stowed away, and Freddy had untied the other side. He walked towards her, using his hand and elbow to roll the rope as he went. “Is something wrong?”
She turned to face him. “I don’t know how to do it.”
He was tired, his body was sore, his head ached, and his patience was running thin. Freddy finally snapped. “It’s a knot, Eliza. You untie it.” He lifted his hand to reach for the knot on the branch just over her shoulder.
Lizzie flinched.
Sheflinched.
And with that tiny movement, all his frustration immediately evaporated as horrified realization washed over him.
Alfred, you miserable bully. You’re going to have a lot to answer for.
Lizzie’s face still betrayed no emotion, but Freddy felt he could understand now—at least a little—her need to protect herself. The thought of Alfred laying hands on her had him seeing red.
“I’ve never seen a knot like that. I don’t know how to untie it.”
He blinked. He was experiencing a storm of emotions, and she was still focused on the knot, as if nothing else had happened.
Of course she doesn’t know. She was raised in a palace, brought up to aspire to be nothing more than a prize. She was taught to be a princess, and never given the option to learn to be anything else.
Freddy gave her an encouraging smile. “Let me show you.”
Chapter Thirteen
Lizzie
“How do you feel about pottery?”
Lizzie looked up from the campfire as Kai approached. His eyes, though underscored by dark circles, were still bright with good humor. He dropped his pack and sank to the ground by the fire with a weary sigh.
“You got the fire started.” There was warm approval with a hint of pride in his voice, as if the simple task were somehow impressive. He began loosening the laces of his boots.
Though, given how much Lizzie had struggled the first few attempts, it probably did seem impressive.
She focused instead on his first question. “What does pottery have to do with anything?”
Kai leaned back on his hands and stretched his neck from side to side. “I had to spend the last of our money on food.” He nodded towards his pack. “That means that we’ll need to find a way to earn some more. I asked around, and the potter is looking to hire someone to man his stall while his wife is recovering from having a baby.”
Lizzie nodded. It was the same problem of economics that she had encountered upon her arrival in Norditch. “So you’re going to do it?”
“Not me. You.”
“Me?” Lizzie started. “But I don’t know how to sell pottery.”
“You know how to handle money. The pottery is already made, and the prices will be posted. All you have to do is accept money and possibly count change. You can do that.”
Kai smiled at her, a warm, encouraging expression she was beginning to recognize in the crinkle of his eyes. He looked at her that way often, a mystery she had yet to solve. So much of their relationship was unbalanced—she was well aware that the burden of keeping them both alive had fallen almost completely on Kai’s shoulders—and yet he still found some reason to smile at her every day.
