Her small collection of makeshift equipment sat arranged on the wooden table by the hearth. Glass vials borrowed from Father Gregory’s stores, copper wires salvaged from broken jewelry, various powders and substances she’d managed to collect or create. She’d spent weeks gathering what she needed, preparing for a storm like this one.
One last attempt. One final experiment to see if she could recreate the conditions of her accidental time jump.
The ring Elizabeth Woodville had given her, a delicate band of gold set with an emerald, glinted on her finger. A gift from a queen five centuries dead in Beth’s original timeline. The thought no longer chilled her, as it once had. Somehow, impossibly, this medieval world was beginning to feel like a place she could belong. Somewhere to callhome.
A knock at the door startled her from her thoughts.
“Enter,” she called, hastily draping a cloth over her experimental apparatus.
The heavy oak door swung open to reveal Baldwin, his broad shoulders filling the frame, several books and rolled parchments cradled in his arms. Rain had darkened his hair where droplets clung to the ends, and his grey eyes seemed to reflect the storm gathering outside.
“I thought you might desire something to occupy your mind,” he said, stepping into the room. “Now that the king and his entourage have departed.”
Genuinely touched by his thoughtfulness, she smiled. “Books are always welcome.”
He placed them carefully on a small table, his movements surprisingly gentle for such a powerfully built man. “These contain observations of the heavens. Ancient theories on the movements of stars and planets.”
Beth’s heart quickened as she moved closer, running her fingers reverently over the oldest volume. “Ptolemy?”
Baldwin looked impressed. “You know of him?”
“I studied his work—” She caught herself. “That is, I’ve heard of his theories.”
Baldwin’s eyes narrowed slightly at her slip, but he didn’t press. Instead, he opened the top manuscript, revealing intricate, hand-drawn diagrams of celestial bodies. “Father Gregory believes these copies date back nearly three centuries.”
The pages smelled of dust and aging parchment, the ink faded to a warm sepia. Beth’s fingers hovered over the delicate illustrations, not quite touching. In her time, these would be museum pieces behind glass, but here they were living documents, meant to be read and studied.
“They’re beautiful,” she whispered.
Baldwin watched her face, something softening in his expression. “You truly love knowledge.”
“It’s been my whole life,” she admitted. “Understanding how things work, why they happen... It’s like solving the most fascinating puzzle imaginable.”
A crash of thunder shook the castle walls, making Beth jump. The storm was almost directly overhead now, the rain lashing against the narrow window.
“Perfect timing,” Baldwin said with a wry smile. “We shall have ample opportunity to discuss the heavens while they rage above us.”
Beth glanced at her covered experiment, then back at Baldwin. The intensity of his gaze made something flutter in her chest. “I’d like that.”
Hours later,they sat before the hearth in Baldwin’s library, manuscripts spread between them on a low table. The fire cast dancing shadows across the stone walls, warming the otherwise chilly chamber. Outside, the storm continued unabated, rain drumming steadily on the roof.
“So you believe the earth moves around the sun, not the other way around?” Baldwin asked, his voice a mix of skepticism and fascination.
Beth bit her lip, considering how much to reveal. “It’s... a theory I find compelling.”
“It contradicts everything written here,” he said, gesturing to the open books.
“Sometimes the most revolutionary ideas seem impossible at first,” she replied carefully. “Think about it. Have you ever seen the sun actually move across the sky? Or does it appear that way because we’re the ones moving?”
Baldwin leaned back in his chair, regarding her thoughtfully. The firelight caught the planes of his face, highlighting the strong jaw and the small scar near his temple. “You speak of such things with such certainty.”
“I speak of possibilities,” she corrected, warming her hands on the cup of spiced wine he’d provided. The rich scent of cinnamon and cloves rose with the steam.
“And what of other possibilities?” he asked, his voice dropping lower. “The possibility that you were sent here for a purpose?”
Beth’s heart skipped. “What purpose could that be?”
His gaze held hers, unwavering. “Perhaps to teach us things we would not otherwise know. Perhaps to change what might have been.”
