Those eyes. She froze.
Grey. Cold. Unyielding.
The same eyes that had stared straight through her at the moment before the world had cracked open. The vision. The sword, the castle, those eyes, apparently, had not been a hallucination.
Panic surged, sharp and choking. Her breath caught. Her knees gave a wobble, and her hand flew to her chest as if she could press the memory back down, deny it. But the man was real. Solid. Terrifying in his certainty.
She stumbled back a step, heart thundering inside her ribs like it might tear free. Her hands were trembling. This couldn’t be happening.
But it was. He was here.
And he was watching her.
He looked at her as if she were a puzzle with missing corners. And then, in a voice that could have split oak, he said, “Eleanor. What, in God’s name, have you done?”
The girl, Eleanor, gestured at Beth. “Found this one wandering the woods. She dresses like a lad, speaks nonsense, and performs strange rituals.”
“I was doing yoga,” Beth muttered.
“Silence,” the man snapped, his gaze flicking to her again. “Who are you?”
With a glare, she straightened her spine, giving him her best unruly high school teacher voice. “Dr. Beth Anderson. I teach chemistry. I have no idea how I got here, but I think I may have time traveled?”
Alric snorted behind him.
Baldwin’s eyes narrowed. “Time … traveled.”
“Yes. It’s a science thing. Not sorcery. It involves, look, I really don’t want to go into the quantum mechanics right now.”
She took a breath, then blurted, “But it’s not magic, I swear! Copper sulfate. CuSO4 might’ve been part of it, and maybe some random electrolysis? Possibly blood as a catalyst, though that’s not exactly FDA approved and, wait, you don’t have an FDA. Right. Okay.”
Baldwin stared at her like she’d just spoken in tongues.
Beth coughed. “Right. I’ll stop now.” But did she? No. Instead, she shrugged and blurted out the words, “Last night I was in my chemistry lab. It was the first day of summer, June 21st, 2025.” She blinked at them. “What year might it be?”
The man called Alric crossed himself, and the young woman, Eleanor looked entirely too interested in her. But him. Mr. Lord of the Vale and all that crap rolled his beautiful grey eyes.
“You speak madness,” he said flatly.
Beth huffed. “Well, I didn’t exactly plan to teleport into your enchanted woods, sir knight. Do you have a phone? Or, failing that, a library?”
“Brother,” Eleanor interrupted, “she claims her name is Beth. And she wears hose like a mercenary.” The woman tilted her head. “Today is the eighth of May. ’Tis the Year of Our Lord 1468.”
“1468?” The Wars of the Roses or it was also called the Cousins’ Wars. The House of York and white roses. The White Queen. A time of upheaval. For a moment, Beth thought she might be sick. But it passed as he looked her over, found her wanting, and turned his attention to Eleanor.
Baldwin turned back to his sister, gaze icy. “And you stole my second-best bow. Again.”
Eleanor’s smile was unrepentant. “It shoots true.”
He exhaled through his nose, then turned back to Beth. “You will come with us to Glenhaven.”
Beth folded her arms. “And if I don’t?”
“You will.”
He gestured. Alric dismounted, took her elbow, not roughly, but firmly.
“This is kidnapping,” Beth said.
