“’Tis not Glenhaven, to be sure,” Baldwin said dryly, guiding his stallion alongside her mare. His eyes flicked to her white-knuckled grip on the reins. “Easy. She senses your discomfort.”
Beth forced her hands to relax, drawing a deep breath despite the foul air. After so many days on horseback, her thighs ached in places she hadn’t known could ache, and the thought of dismounting both terrified and relieved her.
“There are so many people,” she murmured, watching the mass of humanity flowing through the narrow streets below.
The constant clanging of metal made her head throb. And everywhere she looked, people crowded together in a dizzying array of colors and fabrics, pushing and jostling for position.
“It’s like Disneyland and a Tokyo subway station during rush hour had a baby,” she muttered, leaning slightly toward Baldwin as their horses picked their way through the streets to the palace.
He raised an eyebrow. “I know not what this ‘Disneyland’ is, but I suspect you’ve insulted the king’s residence.”
“Not insulted,” Beth said, forcing a smile. “Just a bit overwhelmed.”
Eleanor urged her palfrey forward to ride alongside them, her eyes wide with excitement. Unlike Beth, who felt like a fraud in her borrowed finery, Eleanor looked every inch the noblewoman in her crimson riding gown, her dark hair elaborately braided and adorned with pearl pins.
“Oh, look at all the shops!” she exclaimed, pointing with a gloved hand. “Is that Lady Margaret? And there, is that the Duke of Clarence?”
“Contain yourself,” Baldwin warned his sister. “We are not here to gawk.”
Eleanor’s smile dimmed, but she nodded obediently. Beth felt a stab of sympathy for the girl. At least Eleanor belonged in this world, even if she found court life novel. Beth was an interloper, a time traveler playing dress-up in clothes that pinched and shoes that rubbed blisters on her heels.
As they reached the palace gates, the royal guard motioned for them to dismount. Beth, stiff from the long days of travel, swung her leg awkwardly over the saddle. Her foot caught in her skirts and she pitched sideways with a startled gasp.
Strong hands caught her before she hit the ground. Baldwin steadied her, his arms firm around her waist. The scent of him immediately calming her nerves.
“Careful,” he murmured, his breath warm against her ear.
“Thanks,” she whispered, heat flooding her cheeks as she found her footing. “Dismounting with dignity is still a work in progress.”
His mouth twitched, almost smiling. “You’ve improved considerably since we left Glenhaven.”
A stable boy approached, taking their reins. “I’ll see to your horses, milord.”
“Our belongings?” Baldwin asked, his hand lingering at the small of Beth’s back.
“They’ll be taken to your chambers, my lord,” the servant replied with a bow.
Beth cataloged everything with a scientist’s eye as they proceeded through the courtyard. The guards’ positions, the layout of the grounds, the strange ceremonial gestures people made passing certain doorways. Knowledge was power, and right now, she felt powerless.
A servant approached with a tray of small meat pastries. Beth’s stomach growled as they’d eaten little on the road that morning, but she hesitated. Who knew how long they had been sitting out? No way did she want to get food poisoning and throw up all over some important noble.
“No, thank you,” she said, shaking her head.
Baldwin gave her a questioning look but said nothing as they continued into a grand hall where dozens of courtiers milled about. Beth felt their stares like physical touches, assessing her worth, her status, her relationship to the Lord of Glenhaven. She lifted her chin, refusing to be cowed.
“Remember what I taught you about precedence,” Baldwin whispered. “The king first, then the queen, then?—”
“I remember,” Beth said, though in truth, the elaborate hierarchy made little sense to her. In her time, they’d have called this a dictatorship, not a monarchy. As the king’s word was law,though she could think of a few people she’d have sent to the gallows.
A hush fell over the crowd as a door at the far end of the hall opened. Beth straightened her spine, preparing to meet royalty.
But it wasn’t the king who entered, just another nobleman in rich attire, surrounded by attendants. Without thinking, Beth began to curtsy deeply, as Eleanor had taught her.
Baldwin’s hand clamped around her arm, stopping her mid-motion. “Not him,” he hissed. “That’s merely the Duke of Suffolk.”
Heat flooded her cheeks as titters rippled through the nearby courtiers. Baldwin pinched the bridge of his nose, a gesture she’d come to recognize as his way of controlling frustration. Eleanor covered her mouth, but Beth could see the amusement in her eyes.
“Is she simple or foreign?” a voice whispered behind them, loud enough to carry.
