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speed. I was awed that the horses could pull us so fast and smoothly and realized Zipporah must be very skilled and strong to drive so well. I felt more than a little curious about her and almost wished I’d thought to ask if I might join her up top.
    Not that the inside of the carriage was lacking. The cushioned seats were the softest, crushed velvet— my hands had yet to tire of touching them, swirling patterns into the impressionable cloth— and a basket of pastries and drink lay waiting. A blanket and feather pillow sat on the seat beside me, and I guessed they meant we’d be traveling through the night without stopping.
    I didn’t even know how far away Tallinyne was.
    Sudden anxiety seized me. My fingers dug into the plush velvet, and I fought to keep my breathing calm. What if I couldn’t find my sister? What if this carriage wasn’t really going to the capital? What if the wine in the bottles was poisoned and would stop the beating of my heart with my first swallow?
    Alone in the carriage that was nearly flying, my imagination ran as wildly as the horses, but after several fearful hours, I found I was too tired to care. I had no idea how far we’d traveled or what direction we were going. The sun appeared to be setting on both sides. I’d never be able to find my way home.
    I told myself that didn’t matter. I’d escaped Vetrie’s sharp tongue, my thoughtless siblings, the gossiping villagers, and the charred earth where our home had been— the daily reminder of my carelessness and what it had cost.
    The sun sank low on an endless horizon, and the carriage traveled ever faster. My eyelids grew heavy until I gave in to sleep, my last thought that surely the place I was going would be better than the one I’d just left.

    When I next awoke the sun rose behind us, and we were traveling west. I was not alone in the carriage. I found this more than a little alarming and wondered if the sip of wine I’d had sometime in the night contained valerian and had caused an unnaturally deep sleep. I could think of no other explanation for having missed the carriage stopping and another passenger coming aboard. Concerned, I eyed the roundish, rosy-cheeked, merry-looking woman sitting across from me, fingers dashing with the knitting needles in her hands. She reminded me a bit of the driver, though with a much more feminine manner.
    I watched, at first wary, then fascinated, as the garment she wove doubled in size before my eyes.
    “Do you favor it?” she asked after I’d stared for several minutes.
    “Very much,” I said, meaning the hypnotizing rhythm of her fingers and not necessarily the pale pink sweater forming on her lap. “It’s astounding. I’ve never seen anyone knit so fast.”
    She chuckled. “If you’re impressed by this…” She stopped, letting the unfinished thought hang in the air. “Been around a lot of knitters, have you?”
    I shook my head. “Just my mother and sisters.”
    “You must knit too, then.” She took her eyes off the sweater long enough to look me up and down.
    “I’m afraid I don’t do well with any sort of needles, actually.” I glanced at my poorly patched dress, a clear example of my lacking skills.
    “Tell me, what you are good at then? Music?” she asked hopefully.
    Again I shook my head. “I’ve never been around a pianoforte, and my sisters agree my voice is sour enough to make the most faithful sailor jump overboard 'midst an ocean gale.”
    My companion gave an indelicate snort. “I suppose you’re good at growing things.” She stared pointedly at my head so that I wondered if there was a twig or leaves caught in my hair from yesterday’s foray into the wood. Feeling self-conscious I reached up, touched my hair and discovered a circlet of flowers resting there.
    “A gift from my sister,” my companion said. “ Somehow she knew you loved flowers.”
    “Oh yes.” I brightened. A gift? For me? “And all plants, trees, herbs. I’m hoping to work for