That evening,Beth returned to her chamber after a simple supper in the great hall to find a stack of books on her bed. Not modern books with glossy covers and clean type, but manuscripts. Some bound in leather, others mere collections of parchment tied with cord.
She approached them cautiously, as if they might vanish if she moved too quickly. The topmost volume was open to a diagram of the night sky, constellations marked in faded ink. Beneath it lay a treatise on herbs and their medicinal properties, and below that, what appeared to be an anatomical study,though the drawings bore little resemblance to the human body as she knew it.
Beth sat on the edge of the bed, reverently touching the pages. They smelled of dust, ink, and something else, something old and precious. Knowledge, preserved against time and ignorance.
“These aren’t even in any logical order,” she murmured, gently adjusting the top volume.
“If I had a Dewey Decimal system, or even just a simple stoichiometric label, ugh, I’m going to have to invent library science, aren’t I?”
She knew, without being told, who had left them. The same man who had looked at her with those storm-gray eyes, who had touched her hand and then withdrawn as if afraid of what might happen if he lingered.
A knock at the door startled her. “Enter,” she called, hastily gathering the books into a neater pile.
Eleanor swept in, dressed in a gown of pale blue linen, her dark hair loose around her shoulders. She stopped short when she saw the manuscripts.
“He gave you his books?” Her voice held a note of astonishment.
Whew, it was hot in here. She shrugged, aiming for nonchalance. “I guess so. They were here when I came in.”
Eleanor approached, picking up the astronomical text with careful fingers. “This was our father’s,” she said softly. “Baldwin has never lent it to anyone. Not even me.”
Something warm unfurled in her chest. “Maybe he thinks I’m a witch who needs to be educated in proper medieval science.”
Eleanor’s lips curved in a knowing smile. “Or maybe he thinks you’re worth the risk.”
“The risk of what?”
“Caring.” Eleanor set the book down gently. “My brother has built walls around himself since our parents died. He lets so few people get close.”
Beth looked down at the books, suddenly understanding the weight of the gift. Not just paper and ink, but trust. A tentative bridge between them.
“I’ll be careful with them,” she promised.
Eleanor’s smile widened. “See that you are. With the books, and with his heart.”
She turned to leave, then paused at the door. “Oh, and prepare yourself. There’s to be a great feast tomorrow night.”
“What’s the occasion?”
Eleanor’s eyes danced with excitement and a touch of mischief. “The king will arrive in a fortnight.”
The door closed behind her, leaving Beth alone with the books and a growing sense of panic. The king. As in, the actual medieval king of England. The whole War of the Roses. The rumored witch queen. As in, a historical figure, she knew just enough about to get herself in trouble.
“Great,” she whispered, clutching the nearest manuscript like a lifeline. “I am so screwed.”
CHAPTER 6
Beth woke to utter chaos as she threw off the covers and went to her chamber door. The usual morning sounds had been replaced by what sounded like the entire senior class moving all the desks out of the classroom, scraping the metal legs across the linoleum floors.
“What on earth?”
It sounded like servants shouting, dogs barking, and the clatter of what sounded like every pot in the kitchen being rearranged at once. Blinking several times, she padded over to the narrow window. The courtyard below swarmed with activity, people scurrying about like ants whose hill had been kicked.
“The king.” Eleanor had told her last night that he and his royal entourage would be stopping at Glenhaven on their way to... wherever they were going, eating and drinking their way across the countryside this summer. King Edward IV. She’d watched the TV show, read the books, and now she might actually get to see him and his infamous queen in person.
She dressed quickly in the simple kirtle Eleanor had loaned her. A deep navy that made her eyes look almost emerald and ventured into the corridor, stumbling when the thought hit her. What if she actually got to meet them? Dread crawled across hershoulders. Nope, Beth had better not. What if she slipped and said something she shouldn’t? Best to stay behind the scenes. The air smelled of beeswax and vinegar, a pungent but not unpleasant combination.
Two maids hurried past with armfuls of fresh rushes, barely acknowledging her as she gladly accepted a goblet from a passing kitchen girl, glad for the watered down wine.
