Chapter 10

“I don’t…I mean…what are you talking about?”

Frye stopped. The little fish was looking at Frye as if he were a shark, there to devour him. Why on earth…? Oh, he thought Frye made a sexual advance. Ha!

“Your lute,” Frye said, letting his outstretched hand fall. “I thought we could discuss which songs to play. It’ll look weird if my dance doesn’t match your melody.”

The red on Markle’s cheeks grew in intensity. “Oh. The performance.” Markle turned his back, using the momentum to pull his travel sack off his shoulders. He bent down and rummaged into the bag, pulling the lute out from the bottom. Markle stood up, the lute—wrapped in a layer of cloth—clutched protectively in his hands.

“May I see it?” Frye asked softly. Despite Markle’s insisted aversion to the instrument, Frye could tell the kid cared for it deeply. He held it with such reverence. Frye respected that, and mimicked Markle’s sincerity as he accepted the instrument.