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“I have heard of many places,” Jacquetta countered, her smile not reaching her eyes. “And you have the look of one who has traveled far indeed. Perhaps farther than most can imagine.”

A chill ran down Baldwin’s spine. Jacquetta was too perceptive by half.

“Beth assists my sister with her studies of natural philosophy,” Baldwin interjected. “She has some knowledge of herbs and healing.”

“An alchemist, then?” Jacquetta’s interest sharpened visibly. “How fascinating. I myself have studied the properties of substances and the movement of the stars.”

Beth’s eyes lit up with dangerous enthusiasm. “Really? I’d love to discuss the convergence of ecclesiastical and secular influence on early scientific thought with you.”

The hall fell silent. Even the minstrels paused their playing. Baldwin fought the urge to drag Beth bodily from the room.

Elizabeth Woodville leaned forward, her golden hair catching the candlelight as it tumbled in elegant waves over a brocade gown of deep crimson.

The heavy fabric shimmered faintly with threads of gold, and her sleeves, long and flowing, were lined with velvet the color of wine.

A delicate circlet of pearls rested atop her head, just beneath the sheer veil draped over her shoulders.

“What a curious turn of phrase. ‘Scientific.’ Is that a western term?”

Beth’s smile faltered. “It’s... yes. We use it to describe, um, natural philosophy.”

“You must join us later,” Jacquetta decided, her gaze never leaving Beth’s face. “I would hear more of your... western learning.”

Baldwin cleared his throat. “Perhaps tomorrow would be better. Mistress Anderson has been weary after her journey.”

“I’m fine,” Beth countered, then winced as Baldwin’s boot connected firmly with her ankle beneath the table.

“Tomorrow, then,” Jacquetta agreed, though her expression suggested she had already seen more than Baldwin would like. “After the hunt.”

As the meal resumed and Beth was seated further down the table beside Eleanor, Baldwin felt the weight of Jacquetta’s scrutiny.

“She is not what she seems,” Jacquetta of Luxembourg murmured, too low for others to hear.

Baldwin met her gaze steadily. “Few of us are, Lady Rivers.”

Jacquetta’s lips curved. “True enough. But that one...” She glanced toward Beth, who was now gesturing animatedly to a bewildered courtier. “That one carries knowledge that could burn kingdoms or build them anew.”

Baldwin’s hand tightened around his goblet. “She is under my protection.”

“Is she?” Jacquetta raised an eyebrow. “Or are you under hers?”

A loud laugh burst from the other end of the high table.

“God’s blood, Baldwin,” King Edward called, flagon in hand and his cheeks flushed from drink and good humor, “you’ve gone and brought yourself a scholar!”

He leaned over, grinning down the length of the table at Beth, who had paused mid-explanation. “Mistress Anderson, was it? You must tell me, have you taught our dour knight there to smile? For that would be a feat worthy of song.”

Laughter rippled through the hall.

Baldwin forced a tight smile. “Your Grace jests.”

“And well I may,” Edward said cheerfully, dabbing at his mouth with a cloth. “I have yet to see a woman tangle her tongue quite so magnificently with Cedric’s cousin and still emerge unburnt.”

“That’s because Cedric’s cousin deserves more tangling than most,” Beth said before she could stop herself. The entire table stilled.

Edward blinked, and then let out a roar of laughter, loud enough to echo off the stone.

“Saints’ mercy, she has teeth!” he exclaimed. He turned a delighted smile to Elizabeth. “We must bring her to court. She would unseat three of my bishops in an hour.”

Queen Elizabeth’s smile was measured, her gaze fixed on Beth with a cool sort of appraisal. “Indeed,” she murmured. “Mistress Anderson does seem… unusual.”

“She is,” Eleanor said quickly, seizing the reins before the Queen’s curiosity turned to suspicion. “But loyal. Kind.” She leaned over, whispering something in Beth’s ear that brought a nervous laugh to her lips.

Edward leaned back and studied Baldwin with a knowing gleam. “She’s no highborn lady, nor court-trained maid, yet you house her in your castle, clothe her in your family’s colors, and keep her within reach.”

He snapped his fingers, and a servant refilled his goblet. “What is she, Baldwin? Witch or wonder?”

Baldwin met his sovereign’s gaze. “Neither, Your Grace. She is my responsibility.”

“Responsibility,” Edward repeated as if tasting the word. “Well. If she turns your head half as well as she’s turned this hall’s, then I shall thank her for making a man of you once again.”

That stung. Laughter rose from the king’s side of the table, Baldwin heard Jacquetta’s low chuckle beneath it.

“I daresay,” Jacquetta added smoothly, “Your Grace has rarely seen a more interesting specimen of western scholarship.”

Edward’s eyes twinkled. “I daresay I’ll see more before this visit ends. Tell me, mistress…” He turned to Beth again. “Do they teach tournaments where you come from? Or must we show you how a proper man wins glory before ladies?”

Beth smiled, tight-lipped but unflinching. “We don’t have tournaments, Your Grace. But we have physics. And chemistry. And Nobel Prizes.”

A beat of silence.

Edward blinked. “I know not what half those things are, but I shall assume they’re worthy. Else you’d not speak them with such meaning.” He raised his goblet toward her. “To Mistress Anderson of the west, may her strangeness never be dulled.”

All around the high table, glasses were raised, some in delight, some in confusion, others, like Baldwin’s, in tight-lipped dread.

Beth inclined her head in a stiff nod and raised her own goblet, her hand only just trembling.

Baldwin leaned toward her as the music of the minstrels picked up again. “Bloody hell. Must you provoke royalty?”

“I was trying to be charming,” she muttered from the corner of her mouth.

He stared at her for one long, incredulous moment. “You are madness made flesh.”

Her answering smile was pure mischief. “And yet you don’t send me back.”

“No,” he said grimly. “More the fool am I.”

From beside him, Jacquetta sipped her wine, her gaze never leaving them.

The feast dragged on for hours, course after course of Glenhaven’s finest offerings.

Roasted peacock presented with its feathers reattached.

Jellied eels. Venison in a sauce of wine and berries.

Marchpane shaped like the royal coat of arms. Through it all, Baldwin watched Beth navigate the treacherous waters of court etiquette with all the grace of a bull in a pottery shop.

She used the wrong utensils. She spoke directly to serving men instead of summoning them with a gesture as was proper.

She asked questions about politics that made courtiers exchange nervous glances.

And worst of all, she kept catching his eye across the room with looks of helpless amusement that made something warm unfurl in his chest.

When the tables were finally cleared and the dancing began, Baldwin found himself cornered by Jacquetta near the great hearth.

“Mistress Anderson is the most unusual woman I have encountered in many years,” she said without preamble. “Her knowledge is... not of this world, I think.”

Baldwin maintained his composure with effort. “She has been educated unusually, it is true.”

“Do not play me for a fool, Lord Baldwin.” Jacquetta’s voice hardened. “I have studied the stars longer than you have drawn breath. I know when something disrupts their patterns.” She leaned closer. “Or someone.”

Before Baldwin could respond, a commotion erupted from the center of the hall. Beth stood frozen, wine spilled down the front of her gown, facing a red-faced nobleman.

“Clumsy wench!” the man snarled, his own cup empty. “Do you know how much this brocade cost?”

Baldwin moved without thinking, cutting through the crowd with long strides. He reached Beth’s side just as she opened her mouth to deliver what would undoubtedly be a thoroughly modern retort.

“Lord Pembroke,” Baldwin said, his voice carrying the edge of steel that had made men tremble on battlefields. “I must apologize for the accident. Of course, Glenhaven will provide compensation for any damage to your garments.”

The nobleman, flushed with wine and self-importance, drew himself up. “This foreign girl lacks all proper training. What kind of household are you running, Devereux?”

Baldwin stepped closer, using his height to full advantage. “One where guests remember their manners,” he said softly, “lest they find themselves sleeping in the stables rather than our comfortable chambers.”

A tense silence fell. Then Lord Pembroke huffed and turned away, muttering under his breath.

Baldwin turned to Beth, whose eyes had widened at his intervention. “Are you hurt?”

“Only my pride,” she murmured, looking down at the wine stain spreading across the blue fabric. “And my beautiful dress. I’m sorry.”

Her genuine contrition softened something in Baldwin’s chest. “It matters not. Come, you should change before?—”

“Before what?” Jacquetta appeared beside them, her dark eyes gleaming with interest. “A little wine is nothing to fret over. In fact, I would speak with mistress Anderson privately, Lord Baldwin.”

It was not a request. Baldwin hesitated, torn between protocol and protection.

Beth touched his arm lightly. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine.”

Her fingers were warm through the fabric of his sleeve, the casual touch sending an unexpected jolt through his body. Baldwin found himself nodding, though every instinct screamed against leaving her alone with Jacquetta.

“As you wish,” he said stiffly. “I shall be nearby should you require anything.”

As Jacquetta led Beth away toward the solar, Baldwin caught Eleanor’s eye across the hall. His sister’s worried expression mirrored his own unease.

Jacquetta of Luxembourg was known for her interest in the occult, in alchemy, in things beyond ordinary understanding. If anyone could discern Beth’s true nature, it would be she.

And Baldwin was not certain that discovery would end well for any of them.

An hour passed before Beth emerged from the solar, her face pale but composed. Jacquetta followed, her expression inscrutable as she rejoined her daughter at the high table.

Baldwin intercepted Beth before she could return to the feast. “What happened?” he demanded, drawing her into the shadow of a stone archway. “What did she ask you?”

Beth’s eyes met his, troubled yet determined. “Everything. Where I’m from. What I know. How I came to be here.” She twisted her fingers together. “I tried to be vague, but she’s... perceptive.”

“Did you tell her the truth?” Baldwin’s heart hammered against his ribs.

“Not all of it.” Beth shook her head. “But she knows I’m different. She said...” Beth lowered her voice. “She said power unclaimed is dangerous, and power hidden is hunted.”

Baldwin cursed under his breath. “She suspects witchcraft.”

“Actually, I think she suspects something worse.” Beth’s laugh held no humor. “She asked if I’d come from the stars or from beneath them.”

The implications chilled Baldwin’s blood. If Jacquetta believed Beth to be otherworldly, a demon or angel or something beyond mortal understanding, her fate would be sealed.

“You must avoid her for the remainder of her stay,” Baldwin said firmly. “Return to your chamber and do not emerge until they have departed.”

Beth’s chin lifted in that stubborn way he had come to recognize. “I’m not hiding. She didn’t threaten me, she was curious. Almost... excited.”

“That is precisely what concerns me.” Baldwin gripped her shoulders, the silk of her gown smooth beneath his palms. “Jacquetta’s curiosity has destroyed lives before.”

Their faces were close, too close. Baldwin could see the flecks of gold in Beth’s green eyes, could smell the wine on her breath mingled with something uniquely her, like summer rain and strange spices. For a heartbeat, he thought of closing that distance.

Instead, he released her and stepped back. “Promise me you will exercise caution.”

Beth studied him, her expression softening. “You’re worried about me.”

It wasn’t a question. Baldwin looked away, uncomfortable with how transparent his concern must be. “I am responsible for all within my walls.”

“Right.” Something flickered across her face, disappointment, perhaps. “Just doing your lordly duty.”

Before he could respond, a page approached with a bow. “My lord, the Queen requests your presence for the final dance.”

Baldwin nodded, though his eyes remained on Beth. “We will speak more of this later.”

As he turned to go, Beth called after him, her voice light with forced humor. “So, just to clarify, do I kneel before drinking the wine or after?”

Despite everything, Baldwin felt his lips twitch. He glanced back at her, this impossible woman who had fallen into his ordered life and set it spinning like a child’s top. “Neither. You curtsy, and not to the serving man.”

Her laughter followed him as he returned to the great hall, warming him like strong mead on a winter’s night.

Later, as the feast finally wound down, and the guests retired to their chambers, Baldwin found Beth walking the battlements alone, her face turned toward the star-strewn sky.

The wine stain on her gown had dried to a dark shadow, and she had removed the elaborate headdress Eleanor had forced upon her.

With her hair loose around her shoulders and her profile limned in moonlight, she looked both vulnerable and untouchable.

He approached quietly, but she sensed his presence, nonetheless.

“I told you the court would devour you,” he said, coming to stand beside her at the parapet.

Beth smiled without looking at him. “Let’s not invite them in for dinner, then.”

The night air carried the scent of the lake below, cool and clean. For a moment, they stood in companionable silence, the weight of the day settling between them.

Then a page appeared making his way along the battlements, bearing a folded parchment sealed with wax. “For the lady,” he said, bowing low. “From the Duchess of Bedford.”

Baldwin took the message, his brow furrowing as he handed it to Beth. She broke the seal and read by moonlight, her expression changing from curiosity to something like fear.

“What does it say?” Baldwin demanded.

Beth looked up at him, her eyes wide in the darkness. “’When the moon wanes, meet me by the lake. Come alone.’” She swallowed visibly. “What does she want with me?”

Baldwin gazed out over his lands, the peaceful waters of the lake reflecting stars that suddenly seemed cold and distant. “Nothing good,” he murmured. “Nothing good at all.”