Freddy nodded sharply. “Lizzie’s whole life, the only example of marriage that she’s seen has been one that looks perfect on the outside, but behind closed doors was a nightmare. Alfred is abusive and opportunistic, and he’s willing to dispose of anyone who stands in his way, no matter who they are.”
Sympathetic tears streamed down her cheeks. “So when she found out that she was going to be married…”
“She cursed herself,” Freddy finished. “Because Lizzie was afraid that being married meant being hurt and betrayed over and over again.”
“But you’re nothing like her father!”
He gave a small shrug. “To be fair, none of us were aware that Alfred was like Alfred, either. For all she knew, in her 15-year-old mind, all men were just wolves in disguise, waiting for the ceremony to finally show their true colors.”
“To return to your story,” Hadrian said after a heavy moment, “I’m assuming that because you and Lizzie are now bonded in matrimony, that you were the next man at the door?”
“I was, much to Lizzie’s horror. My disguise might have been too good, and she didn’t realize who I was.” Freddy paused, knowing that there was no way to get out of telling the next part of the story. “She ran away before the wedding.”
Hadrian snorted. “Again?”
Freddy pulled a face at him. “Yes, well, Alfred signed the marriage certificate by proxy, and since he is both the king and her father, we’re legally married. But I had to go retrieve her before I could come home.”
“Where did she go?” Maribel was leaning forward with her chin resting on her hands, thoroughly invested in the story.
“All the way to Norditch.”
“So, now what?” his mother asked. “I assume that Lizzie wants her curse to be broken?”
“That’s the thing—she doesn’t.” Freddy held up his hand before anyone could interrupt. “She doesn’t want it broken and…she doesn’t know that I am me. She still thinks I’m Kai, the poor wandering minstrel who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“You have to tell her, Fred,” Hadrian said incredulously. “You can’t possibly think you can keep living a double life like this.”
Clarice jumped in, “And you can’t have a cursed wife on the throne. No matter how much you love her, the people will never trust her.”
“I know, and I know.” Freddy looked both his friend and his mother in the eye. “I have a plan.”
Maribel had a paper and pen out almost before he finished saying the words. “What do you need?”
He gave Clarice a sheepish grin. “How quickly can you plan another wedding?”
Chapter Nineteen
Lizzie
Lizzie had thought her muscles couldn’t possibly get any more sore than when she was traveling with Kai across Eukarya.
Then she started working in the palace kitchens.
Her arms were sore and screaming from all the continuous scrubbing and from lugging heavy pails of water to and from the well. Her hands, which had just finally healed, were now red and chapped again. Her back and feet ached from long hours of standing, and even her dignity was suffering, as the kitchen staff who had once served her during her visits now bossed her around the kitchen.
She didn’t mind, really. Her curse helped keep the bulk of the humiliation at bay, and she was practical enough to recognizethat her station had fallen, and that was that. She was a minstrel’s wife, which meant that she needed to work like a minstrel’s wife.
To her surprise, Lizzie found that she actuallylikedthe work. There was something so satisfying about scrubbing a dirty pot until it shone, about taking something used and dirty and making it sparkle again. It was hard work, but she was the one doing it. And after growing up in her father’s home, where her entire value was tied to what others were willing to part with in order to claim her, being able to make her own way was immensely satisfying.
Her days fell into a predictable—if tiring—rhythm. She rose early with the sun, bade her husband farewell, and walked to the kitchens where she worked until sundown. When she returned to their cottage, Kai was usually gone, preparing to perform until the late hours of the night. He would return, whisper goodnight, and take his blanket to the front room to fall asleep in front of the fire.
It wasn’t until the first week was nearly over that Lizzie had a disquieting realization:
She missed her husband.
She tried to ignore it, shoving the feelings down and keeping her hands and body busy. But she found herself wishing for his crinkle-eyed smiles, his quiet laughter, and his ready jokes. The flowers he left for her every morning were not the same as being in his steady, thoughtful presence. They had spent nearly every waking moment together on the road, but now that they were back in Kysta, she rarely saw him.
On the night before her first full day off, Lizzie sat in front of the fire and waited. The hours ticked by and the fire in the hearth died down to glowing embers. Still, Kai did not come, and Lizzie was left alone with nothing but the sound of the crashing waves and her own conflicting thoughts.
