Page 16

T he morning after the royal feast dawned with a stillness in the air as Baldwin stood at his chamber window, watching mist curl off the lake.

Last night had not gone well. Beth was too inquisitive for her own good and had drawn the attention of Jaquetta.

No wonder sleep had eluded him. He ran a hand through his dark hair, still disheveled from hours of restless tossing to and fro.

Behind him, a servant laid out his clothing for the day.

A doublet of forest green velvet with silver embroidery at the collar and cuffs, matched with dark breeches and polished boots.

Hunting attire, suitable for accompanying the king, yet fine enough for court.

Baldwin ignored it, preferring instead to glower at the peaceful scene below.

“Your face will freeze that way, you know.”

Baldwin turned to find Roland leaning against the doorframe, already dressed in hunting leathers, a half-smile playing on his lips. His sandy hair was combed back from his forehead, and his blue eyes sparkled with mischief.

“I wasn’t aware I’d summoned a jester this morning,” he replied dryly.

Roland stepped into the chamber, helping himself to an apple from Baldwin’s untouched breakfast tray. “No need for summons. Your brooding carries across the castle like thunder.” He took a bite, studying his friend. “This is about your woman, isn’t it?”

Baldwin’s jaw tightened. “Mistress Anderson is not my woman, nor is she an alchemist.”

“No?” Roland raised an eyebrow. “Then why does Lady Rivers seek a private audience with her by moonlight? The whole castle whispers of it.”

Baldwin cursed under his breath. Nothing remained secret at court for long. “Jacquetta’s curiosity is dangerous. Beth doesn’t understand the game she’s being drawn into.”

“Beth, is it?” Roland’s smile widened. “Not ‘Mistress Anderson’? How familiar we’ve become.”

Baldwin shot him a withering look as he shrugged into the green doublet, fastening the silver clasps with more force than necessary. “Have you nothing better to do than irritate me?”

“Not until the hunt begins.” Roland finished his apple and tossed the core out the open window. “Though I wonder? Is it Jacquetta’s interest that troubles you, or that others might claim what you’ve begun to think of as yours?”

Baldwin stilled, his hands frozen at his collar. “She is not mine.”

“Of course not,” Roland agreed, his tone suggesting the opposite. “Which is why you watch her like a hawk, growl at any man who approaches her, and pace the battlements when she’s summoned elsewhere.”

“She is my responsibility,” he insisted, the words sounding hollow even to his own ears.

“As you say.” Roland pushed away from the wall. “The king seemed rather taken with her wit last night. And Edward has a fondness for unusual women.”

The mention of the king’s notorious appetites made Baldwin’s blood run cold, then hot with an emotion he refused to name. His fingers curled into fists at his sides.

“I need you to do something for me,” he said, his voice low and controlled. “Tonight, when Beth meets Jacquetta by the lake. Follow them. Remain unseen, but near enough to intervene if necessary.”

Roland’s teasing smile faded. “You think she means her harm?”

“I think Jacquetta recognizes power when she sees it,” Baldwin replied. “And power recognized is power coveted.”

The lake shimmered like polished silver beneath the waning moon, its surface occasionally rippling in the breeze.

Beth hugged her arms around herself, wishing she’d brought a heavier cloak.

This one was lovely with the embroidered flowers but thin, and the night air carried a chill that penetrated to her bones.

She glanced over her shoulder at the dark outline of Glenhaven Castle, its windows gleaming with candlelight. Baldwin was up there somewhere, probably pacing and cursing her disobedience. The thought brought a small smile to her lips, despite her nervousness.

“You came alone. Good.”

Beth startled, turning to find Jacquetta emerging from the shadows of a willow tree.

Lady Rivers wore a gown of midnight blue, so dark it seemed to absorb the moonlight rather than reflect it.

A silver chain set with moonstones circled her throat, and her silver hair was bound in braids on either side of her head.

“My lady,” Beth managed, attempting a curtsy that was marginally less awkward than her previous efforts. “You wished to see me?”

Jacquetta’s gaze was penetrating, her eyes dark pools in the dim light. “Walk with me,” she commanded, setting off along the lakeshore.

Beth fell into step beside her, acutely aware of the strange tableau they must present. The royal and the time traveler, strolling beneath the stars like old friends.

“Do you know what I see when I look at you, Mistress Anderson?” Jacquetta asked after a moment of silence.

She swallowed, willing her hands to stop shaking as she grasped her skirts, twisting the material in her fists. “I’m afraid to guess.”

A smile touched Jacquetta’s lips. “I see a woman out of place. A woman carrying knowledge that does not belong to her time.” She paused, studying Beth’s face in the moonlight. “Or perhaps it is she who does not belong to this time.”

Beth’s heart hammered against her ribs. “I don’t understand.”

“Don’t you?” Jacquetta reached out, her cool fingers brushing Beth’s cheek. “Your speech, your manner, the strange words that fall from your lips when you forget yourself. ‘Science.’ ‘Physics.’ ‘Nobel Prize.’ These are not words of our England, are they?”

Beth remained silent, unsure how much to reveal. Jacquetta seemed more curious than hostile, but Baldwin’s warnings echoed in her mind.

“I have studied the stars all my life,” Jacquetta continued, her voice soft. “I have read the ancient texts, traced the paths of planets, mixed potions that can heal or harm. But you—” Her eyes gleamed. “You speak of such things with the casual certainty of one who has seen them proved.”

“Where I come from,” Beth said carefully, “natural philosophy is... more advanced.”

“Where you come from,” Jacquetta repeated. “And where might that be, truly? Not the west, I think.”

It was now or never, and something told her this woman would see a lie. Beth took a deep breath. “Would you believe me if I said I came from the future?”

The words hung in the night air, dangerous and irrevocable. Jacquetta’s expression remained unreadable for a long moment. Then, to Beth’s surprise, her eyes lit with a fierce, hungry light.

“I knew it,” she breathed, gripping Beth’s wrist. “I sensed it the moment I saw you.” Her fingers tightened. “Tell me, will my Elizabeth keep her crown? Will her son’s rule after Edward?”

This was dangerous ground. What if she totally changed history? Beth swallowed hard and settled upon a little bit of what was to come without giving away too much. “Your daughter will have more children,” she offered carefully. “Eight more, including three boys.”

She didn’t notice the shadow that detached itself from the trees and followed at a discreet distance, nor the way Roland’s eyes narrowed as he watched the two women deep in conversation.

Jacquetta leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “And these boys? They will be strong? They will survive?”

Beth felt cold despite the summer night. Images from history books flashed through her mind. Two pale princes, locked in the Tower, vanishing from the pages of history. She opened her mouth, but the words stuck in her throat.

“My lady,” she began, “I cannot?—”

“Cannot? Or will not?” Jacquetta’s eyes narrowed.

“Some knowledge is dangerous,” Beth said softly. “Some futures are better left?—”

The door behind them creaked open. A young boy stood there, nervous as he looked between them. Beth wanted to hug the kid.

“The king requests your presence, Lady Rivers,” he said.

Jacquetta straightened, composing herself with the ease of long practice. “We shall continue our conversation anon,” she murmured to Beth, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.

For a while, she simply walked along the banks, wondering what she would say if she were pressed again about the future. She had revealed too much, perhaps, but there was no undoing it now.

The following afternoon found Beth in the castle’s herb garden, carefully selecting ingredients for what she hoped would be a controlled demonstration.

She had spent the morning rifling through the castle’s stores, finding copper sulfate among the alchemical supplies and vinegar in the kitchens.

Now she needed something that would burn with a colorful flame, something impressive but not frightening.

She wore a simple gown, a deep rust color that complemented her dark hair, which was loosely braided and pinned at the nape of her neck. The garden smelled of lavender and rosemary, with hints of thyme and mint carried on the warm summer breeze.

“Planning another of your strange experiments?”

Beth looked up to find Cedric watching her from the garden entrance.

His thin lips curved in a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

He was dressed for court in a doublet of burgundy brocade, his dark hair slicked back from his forehead.

He’d arrived yesterday with a small retinue after hearing the king was making his royal progress through the northern counties.

Within a se’nnight of the news spreading, nobles from across the region had descended upon Glenhaven like ravens to carrion, each eager to curry royal favor.

Something about the man’s posture, the casual way he leaned against the stone archway, made her skin prickle with unease.

“Just gathering herbs,” she replied, straightening. “For Eleanor’s headache remedy.”

Cedric’s gaze flicked to the basket at her feet, which contained decidedly more than headache herbs.

“How dedicated you are to your mistress’s comfort. Though I hear you’ve found favor with an even higher lady now.”

She forced a neutral expression. “Lady Rivers has been kind.”