Page 40

T hunder rolled across the heavens, a deep, primal growl that made the stone walls of Glenhaven vibrate beneath Beth’s fingertips.

She stood at the narrow window of her workroom, watching dark clouds gather over the lake, swallowing the afternoon light.

The air felt heavy, charged, like the moment before a chemical reaction ignites.

Her heart quickened. This wasn’t just any storm.

Her gaze darted to her journal, its pages worn from constant handling. She crossed the room in three quick strides, her simple blue kirtle swishing around her ankles as she flipped through the parchment, finding the passage she’d written months ago.

Lightning, electrical discharge, possibly triggered the portal. Atmospheric conditions similar to those in my lab when...

She traced the words with her finger, a scientist even now, her mind racing through calculations and possibilities.

“What if this is my last chance?” she whispered to the empty room.

Outside, the wind picked up, rattling the wooden shutters.

Beth moved with sudden purpose, gathering components she’d been collecting ever since she’d arrived in the past. Iron rods, sulfur compound, a small candle, a few other items, and a knife to prick her finger.

Her hands trembled as she packed them into a leather satchel.

She pulled Baldwin’s cloak around her shoulders. The deep blue one he’d draped over her that night in the chapel when she’d fallen asleep reading. As she stepped into the corridor, Father Gregory emerged from the shadows, his kind eyes troubled.

“The storm approaches quickly,” he said, glancing at her satchel. “What mischief are you about, child?”

Beth clutched the bag tighter. “I need to test something... with the lightning.”

Understanding dawned in his weathered face. “Would you leave, if you could?”

The question hung between them. Beth looked away, unable to answer.

“Sometimes,” Father Gregory said gently, “God gives us not what we seek, but what we need.”

Beth nodded, her throat tight, and continued down the corridor.

The battlements were slick with rain by the time Beth reached them. Wind lashed at her face, plastering tendrils of dark hair to her cheeks. Below, the courtyard was deserted, servants and knights alike having sought shelter from the storm.

Perfect. No witnesses.

She set her components on a relatively dry section of covered stone. The iron rod would serve as a conductor. The mixture of chemicals, primitive yet effective, would create the reaction she needed. Thunder cracked overhead, closer now.

“The electrical discharge should catalyze the copper-blood mixture,” she muttered, falling into the comfort of scientific terminology. “If my hypothesis is correct, the electromagnetic field will temporarily destabilize the temporal barrier...”

Lightning split the sky, illuminating the lake below in stark white. Beth counted. One, two, three, before thunder followed. The storm was nearly overhead.

She positioned the rod, then knelt to prepare the chemical mixture, her fingers quick and sure. Rain soaked through her kirtle, but she barely noticed. This was science, this was certainty in a world where she’d been adrift.

“You would risk your life for a chance to return to your own time?”

The deep voice cut through the storm’s fury. Beth whirled around, nearly upsetting her careful arrangement.

Baldwin stood ten paces away, his broad shoulders tense beneath his sodden tunic. Rain streamed down his face, darkening his hair to black. His gray eyes held no accusation, only a pain so raw it stole her breath.

“Baldwin—” she began, but words failed her.

He stepped closer, and she saw he carried his sword, as though he’d been preparing to ride out. “Eleanor said you asked strange questions about the storm. About lightning.” His gaze fell to her experimental setup. “I should have known.”

“I need to know if it’s possible,” Beth said, her voice barely audible above the storm. “I need to know if I have a choice.”

Baldwin’s jaw tightened, a muscle working beneath his stubbled skin. For a moment, she thought he might sweep her equipment aside, might forbid this madness. Instead, he reached for her hand, his calloused palm enveloping her smaller one.

“If this is your choice,” he said, voice hoarse with emotion, “I will not stop you.”

The storm howled around them, rain driving in sheets across the battlements. Beth stared at Baldwin, stunned by his words. This was the man who commanded armies, who brooked no argument from his knights, yet here he stood, giving her freedom that would break his heart.

Lightning flashed again, closer still. The air crackled with electricity.

Beth turned back to her experiment, heart pounding. She lit the small candle, shielding it from the rain with her body. The flame caught, blue-tinged in the storm light. She added the final components, three drops of her blood, her movements now hesitant.

“The reaction should begin any moment,” she said, more to herself than to Baldwin. “The copper solution acts as a catalyst, while the iron serves as a conductor for the electrical charge. The blood, my blood, is the constant variable between worlds.”

A low hum began, barely perceptible beneath the storm’s rage. Then, impossibly, a blue glow emanated from the mixture, pulsing like a heartbeat. The light grew, spreading outward in a widening circle.

Baldwin stepped back, his face illuminated in the unearthly glow. “It’s happening,” he whispered.

The blue light intensified, swirling upward in a spiral. Within its depths, Beth caught a glimpse of her classroom, her desk, her books. Her old life, waiting like a paused film. And her parents sitting together in their house, happy.

She turned to Baldwin, who stood rigid, rain plastering his linen shirt to the muscled contours of his chest. His eyes held hers, filled with a love so fierce it made her tremble more than any storm.

“Go if you must,” he said, the words clearly costing him dearly. “Every day without you will be a year.”

He turned away, shoulders set in a line of resigned dignity. He would not watch her leave. Would not make her choice harder with his presence.

The portal hummed, beckoning.

Home.

Safety.

Science.

Everything familiar.

Beth looked back at the swirling blue light. One step, and she would return to fluorescent lights, to central heating, to antibiotics and computers and all the comforts of modern life.

One step.

She closed her eyes.

Baldwin stood alone on the battlements, rain striking the surrounding stone. He didn’t turn when the blue light flashed brilliantly, then faded. Didn’t need to see the empty space where she had stood.

His chest rose with a deep breath, then fell hard. The pain was physical, a weight crushing his lungs. He had known, from the first moment he saw her strange clothing, her strange speech, that she was not of his world. Had known she might leave.

Knowing did not lessen the agony.

He forced himself to turn, to face the scorch marks on the stone where her experiment had been. Papers fluttered in the wind, already dissolving in the rain. Evidence that she had existed, that he had not dreamed her.

Baldwin closed his eyes briefly, then squared his shoulders. He was Lord of Glenhaven. He would endure, as he had endured his father’s cruelty, as he had endured war. He would?—

“You absolute dolt.”

The voice came from behind him, impossibly familiar. Baldwin whirled around, his heart stopping, then racing.

Beth stood ten paces away, drenched to the skin, her blue kirtle clinging to every curve. The portal’s light faded behind her, leaving only the gray storm and her bright, defiant eyes.

“Beth?” His voice broke on her name.

“The future can burn,” she said, stepping toward him. “I choose you.”

In three long strides Baldwin reached her, wrapping his cloak around her shivering form, pulling her against the solid warmth of his chest. His hands cradled her face, thumbs brushing away raindrops or perhaps tears from her cheeks.

“You stayed,” he breathed, disbelief and joy warring in his voice.

Beth leaned into his touch, her eyes never leaving his. “I couldn’t leave you.”

The kiss, when it came, was neither gentle nor hesitant. Baldwin’s mouth claimed hers with the hunger of a man granted life after accepting death. His arms encircled her completely, lifting her onto her toes as she wound her fingers into his wet hair.

Rain poured around them, but neither noticed. Baldwin’s heart thundered against hers, and Beth thought distantly that no scientific discovery, no equation or experiment, could ever match the perfect chemistry of this moment.

When they finally broke apart, breathless, Baldwin pressed his forehead to hers. “Why?” he asked simply.

Beth smiled, her fingers tracing the strong line of his jaw. “I wanted to see if I could recreate the experiment. To know it was possible.” She glanced at the scorched circle where the portal had been. “But knowing and choosing are different things.”

Baldwin’s arms tightened around her. “And you choose...?”

“You,” she said simply. “This life. Our life.”

He kissed her again, softer this time, a promise sealed in rain and lightning. When they parted, Beth looked at the burned remnants of her experiment, now a blackened mark on the stone.

“That life was waiting,” she said quietly. “But I’m done waiting.”

Baldwin took her hand, his fingers interlacing with hers. Together, they walked back toward the shelter of the castle, leaving science and portals behind in the storm.