Cedric smiled, revealing teeth too white and even. “No? Yet here you are, mixing potions like a hedge witch.” He reached out, fingering a sprig of rosemary in her basket.
“I wonder what Baldwin would think if he knew his guest was practicing sorcery within his walls.”
“I’m sure he’d recognize the difference between science and superstition,” Beth replied, unable to keep the edge from her voice.
“Science.” Cedric rolled the word around his mouth like an unfamiliar wine. “Another of your strange terms. Tell me, where did you learn such things? Not in any convent or noble household I know of.”
Before Beth could answer, a shadow fell across them both. Baldwin stood at the garden entrance, his expression thunderous as he took in the scene. He wore his hunting clothes, the green doublet emphasizing the breadth of his shoulders, a smear of dirt on one sleeve suggesting he’d come directly from the field.
“Cousin,” he said, his voice deceptively calm. “I wasn’t aware you’d arrived.”
Cedric stepped back, offering a bow that held just a hint of mockery. “I came with the second wave of the King’s party. We had excellent sport this morning while you were... otherwise occupied.”
Baldwin’s jaw tightened. “Then you’ll be joining the feast tonight.”
“I wouldn’t miss it.” Cedric’s gaze lingered on Beth. “Especially with such fascinating entertainment promised.”
As he sauntered away, Beth released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Baldwin crossed to her side, his eyes dark with concern.
“What did he want?” he demanded.
“To intimidate me, I think.” Beth shook her head. “He was asking about my ‘special talents’ and suggesting I’m practicing witchcraft.”
Baldwin cursed, running a hand through his hair. “This is precisely what I feared. Jacquetta’s interest has made you a target for court gossip.” His gaze fell to her basket. “What are you gathering?”
Beth bit her lip. “I promised Lady Rivers a demonstration of... natural philosophy.”
“You what?” Baldwin’s voice rose, then fell as he glanced around the garden.
“After everything I said about caution, you agreed to perform like a traveling magician?”
“It’s not like that,” Beth protested. “I’m just going to show her a simple chemical reaction. Something to satisfy her curiosity without revealing too much.”
Baldwin’s expression darkened. “And you think Cedric and his ilk will see the difference? To them, any unexplained phenomenon is witchcraft, and witchcraft means the stake.”
The color drained from Beth’s face. “I’m not going to do anything that extreme. Just a colored flame, maybe some fizzing. Grade-school science fair stuff.”
“Grade school,” Baldwin repeated, the unfamiliar term further souring his mood. “More of your future speech that marks you as different, as dangerous.”
Beth squared her shoulders. “I can’t hide forever. And She already suspects the truth. This way, I control what she sees, what she knows.”
For a moment, he looked as though he might argue further. Then his shoulders slumped, defeat etched in the lines around his mouth.
“Do what you must. But I will be present for this demonstration.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Beth said softly.
Their eyes met, and something shifted in his expression, a softening, a vulnerability that made Beth’s heart skip. Then he nodded curtly and turned away, leaving her alone with her herbs and her racing thoughts.
Lady Rivers had chosenthe castle’s inner courtyard for Beth’s demonstration. As the sun began its descent, casting long shadows across the flagstones, servants arranged chairs for the royal party and lit torches in iron brackets along the walls.The courtyard was intimate but open to the sky, with a small fountain at its center and climbing roses along one wall, their pink blooms nodding in the evening breeze.
She had set up a small table near the fountain, her materials arranged with care. Copper sulfate crystals in a glass vial, vinegar in a ceramic jug, iron filings in a small pouch, and various herbs and minerals in labeled containers. She wore her pale blue gown, grateful it was cooler than the forest green gown.
Her hands trembled slightly as she arranged and rearranged her supplies. This was familiar territory. She’d done countless demonstrations for her students, but the stakes had never been higher. One mistake, one misinterpretation, and she could find herself branded a witch in medieval England.
“You look like you’re about to face the gallows, not entertain the king and queen,” Eleanor observed, appearing at Beth’s side. She wore a gown of pale yellow silk, her dark hair braided with pearls. “Are you certain about this?”
She managed a weak smile. “No, but it’s too late to back out now.”
