“I believe,” King Edward interjected, his voice rich with amusement, “that Lord Baldwin has grown fond of his unusual guest. And who could blame him?” His gaze swept over Beth appreciatively. “A woman who brings fire from water is worth keeping, I’d say.”
Laughter rippled through the courtyard. Beth felt heat rise to her cheeks, both from the king’s obvious admiration and from Baldwin’s thunderous expression. The blue flames had dieddown, leaving only the orange glow of torches to illuminate the growing tension.
“Your Majesty honors me,” Beth managed, attempting to diffuse the situation. “But I’m just a teacher showing simple natural phenomena. Nothing magical or mystical.”
“Teacher,” Cedric repeated, stepping forward from the shadows. “And what exactly do you teach, Mistress Anderson? Certainly not the womanly arts taught in convents.”
His tone made the question an accusation. Several nobles shifted uncomfortably, and Beth saw one or two make the sign of the cross.
Before she could respond, Baldwin moved to stand between her and Cedric, his broad shoulders blocking her from view. “Mistress Anderson’s knowledge of healing herbs and natural properties has been invaluable to Glenhaven,” he said coldly. “I would thank you not to question what is not your concern.”
“But it is all our concern,” Cedric replied smoothly, “when strange arts are practiced in the presence of our sovereign. Some might call such displays witchcraft.”
A murmur ran through the crowd. Beth felt the blood drain from her face.
“Enough!” the king’s voice boomed across the courtyard, silencing everyone instantly. He leaned forward in his chair, wine sloshing in his goblet, his face flushed with good humor. “Your envy grows tedious, Cedric. First Glenhaven Castle, now its fair alchemist?”
Laughter rippled through the gathering. Cedric’s face darkened to a mottled crimson.
“Your Grace, I merely?—”
“You merely wish what you cannot have,” the king interrupted, taking another deep draught of wine. “Baldwin keeps the finest castle and now the most intriguing mind in myrealm. ’Tis not witchcraft but clever science that entertains us tonight.”
The king gestured expansively toward Beth. “Continue, Mistress Anderson. Show us more of your wonders.”
Baldwin’s shoulders relaxed slightly, though his eyes remained vigilant. Beth caught Jacquetta’s approving nod and Eleanor’s relieved smile.
Cedric retreated, jaw tight with fury, while the courtiers pressed closer, eager for more demonstrations now that royal approval had been granted. Beth smiled graciously, but felt her fingers trembling as she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. The crowd finally dispersed when King Edward called for wine and music, leaving her momentarily alone.
Baldwin materialized at her side like a storm cloud, his cloak swirling around him as he gripped her elbow and steered her toward an alcove behind a tapestry. His face was thunderous, eyes flashing like steel.
“Have you lost your senses?” he finally demanded, turning to face her. “Blue flame? In front of the entire court?”
Beth crossed her arms. “It worked, didn’t it? Jacquetta is intrigued, not suspicious. The king was entertained. I controlled the narrative.”
“And my cousin?” Baldwin challenged. “Did you control his narrative, too? He all but accused you of witchcraft!”
“Cedric is a problem,” Beth admitted. “But running and hiding won’t solve it. I need to show that what I’m doing is natural, not supernatural.”
He raked a hand through his hair. “You don’t understand. One whisper of witchcraft is enough to condemn you. And now Jacquetta wants to take you to court, where you’ll be surrounded by enemies and intrigues you cannot begin to comprehend.”
“I’m not going to court,” Beth said softly. “I’m staying here.”
Something flickered in his eyes, relief, perhaps, or something warmer. “Good,” he said gruffly. “Glenhaven needs you, though we must be careful in how we refuse.”
“Glenhaven?” Beth took a step closer. “Or you?”
Baldwin’s breath caught visibly. In the moonlight, his face was all planes and shadows, his gray eyes darkened to storm-cloud intensity. “I am Glenhaven,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Its needs are mine.”
“And what do you need?” She pressed her heart hammering against her ribs. She was close enough now to see the pulse beating in his throat, to smell the clean scent of soap and leather that clung to him.
His gaze dropped to her lips, then back to her eyes. For a moment, Beth thought he might close the distance between them. Instead, he stepped back, his expression shuttering.
“I need you to be safe,” he said. “And demonstrations like tonight only put you in danger.”
Disappointment washed over her, followed quickly by frustration. “I can take care of myself. I’m not some medieval damsel who needs a knight to protect her virtue and her life.”
“No,” he agreed, his mouth twisting in a bitter smile. “You’re a woman from centuries yet to come, with knowledge that could see you burned as a witch. Forgive me if that concerns me.”
