“I like the view,” she said, glancing at the broad-shouldered man beside her from the corner of her eye. A faint smile tugged at her lips. “And I wanted to see what you’re brooding about today.”
His mouth twitched, almost a smile. “I do not brood.”
“You absolutely do. You’re the king of brooding. The emperor of meaningful stares into the middle distance.”
Below them, the lake shimmered. A vast sheet of molten silver and aquamarine, cupping the sky in its glassy palm. Sunlight scattered off its surface in dapples, each ripple catching the early summer light and flinging it skyward. Around its edges, wild grasses nodded beneath airy clouds, while birch and pine pressed close along the far shore, their tall trunks mirrored upside-down in the water’s flawless expanse. Rocky peninsulas jutted here and there, breaking the line of gentle slopes that tumbled down to meet the lake. The air sang with skylark trills and the distant murmur of sheep, and in the hush between wind gusts, she caught the plaintive peal of a solitary bell from thevillage below. It might as well have been a painting, one she could step right into.
“I’d almost forgotten beauty could be this simple,” she murmured, half to herself.
At her side, Baldwin said nothing. Only his hand flexed atop the stone, fingers pressing into worn grooves, his gaze trained on a distant fishing skiff that bobbed near the reeds. He looked like a man built for such a landscape. Beautiful and strong, and as enduring as the land he ruled.
She inched closer. “Have you lived here your whole life?”
He nodded, a single sharp dip of his chin. “My father’s before me, and theirs before.” His jaw set, as if the weight of centuries pressed behind the simple words.
She surprised herself by laying a tentative hand on the back of his. “It’s … glorious. Where I’m from, there are lakes and hills, but none so unchanged. Nothing so... untouched by time or that tourists haven’t trampled all over.”
He turned to her, face unreadable. A breeze threw a lock of hair across his brow, and without thinking, Beth brushed it back. Her fingers lingered for just a heartbeat. She caught the flicker in his gaze, a flash of something unguarded, gone a moment later.
“Glenhaven endures,” he said, voice low, almost reverent, as he faced the lake again. “War, famine, plague, yet still it stands. Sometimes I wonder whether I am worthy of it.”
An ache kindled behind her breastbone. “You care about every soul within these walls. That’s what makes you worthy, even when you doubt it.”
He didn’t answer, but the tension in his shoulders eased, just enough that she saw the man beneath the armor.
A flock of swans glided into view, their white feathers winking brightly as beacons against the jewel-toned water. The breeze shifted, bringing with it a burst of wild thyme and the promise of distant rain.
Beth closed her eyes, letting the sound and scent and sun sink deep. The worry of politics, the stress of the coming days, slipped away. A moment of peace, unexpected, fragile, impossibly precious, filled her.
When she turned, she caught Baldwin watching her as if seeing her for the first time, for who she truly was. For just that blink, she let herself believe she might fit here, as naturally as wildflowers claimed every crack in the old stone walls.
Then his expression sobered. “I received word this morning. They will arrive tomorrow.”
“That soon?” Beth’s stomach knotted. “I thought we still had a couple more days. Or—wait, what day is it?” She tried, and failed, to mentally calculate the date, her grasp of time slipping without the anchoring rhythm of bells and lesson plans. If she’d had her planner, she might’ve stood a chance. Instead, she gave a weak, slightly sheepish smile. “Sorry, my internal calendar only works in lab schedules and exam weeks.”
He ignored the reference to her time. “Listen carefully. When they come, you must not?—”
“I know, I know. No strange words, no talk of the future, no science tricks.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m not completely helpless, you know.”
“This is not a jest.” His voice hardened. “The King will be busy enjoying himself, but the Duchess of Bedford she sees too much.”
“What exactly are you afraid of? That she’ll burn me as a witch? Or that she’ll figure out I’m from the future and... what? Send me home?” The thought sent an unexpected pang through her chest.
His knuckles turned white as he gripped the stone. “I fear what I do not understand, and I do not understand you, Beth Anderson.” He said her name like it was something foreign,something that didn’t belong in his mouth. “I cannot protect what I do not understand.”
The words hurt more than they should have. She stepped back, arms crossed. “Well, I’m sorry to be such a burden on your understanding.”
“That is not what I meant.” He reached for her, then let his hand fall. “I merely?—"
“No, I get it. I’m a problem you didn’t ask for. A complication in your orderly little medieval world.” She turned to go, then stopped. “You know what? I don’t need your protection. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time.”
His expression darkened. “Cease. You know nothing of the dangers here.”
“And you know nothing about me!” Her voice rose despite her efforts to control it. “You’ve spent all this time trying to figure out what I am, but you’ve never once asked who I am. If I left family behind.” Who was teaching her class? Hopefully not, Nate. He was a pompous jerk and so dull not a single kid would want to pursue science as a field of study after listening to him drone on and on.
For a moment, they stood facing each other, the wind whipping around them, tension crackling like static before a storm. Then his shoulders sagged slightly, the closest thing to surrender she’d seen from him.
“You are right,” he said quietly. “I have not... I should have asked.”
