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 tonguequite 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.”
