His jaw hardened, and she watched the muscles tighten. “The king assures me the villain has been apprehended and will be dealt with swiftly.”
“You don’t believe him.”
He glanced away, shaking his head slowly. “The king is honorable, but there are layers upon layers that lay hidden within this court. I only trust what I can see with my own eyes and touch with my own hands.” His gaze drifted back to her, softened by the lingering fear behind his usual strength. “And I intend to get us far from here as soon as you can travel.”
She nodded, throat tightening with relief. Glenhaven had become a refuge and now she understood why Baldwin and his sister avoided court and stayed at the castle, far, far, away.
Baldwin squeezed her hand. “Rest,” he said firmly, steel creeping back into his tone beneath the intimacy of worry.
The next day,as the golden afternoon slid gently into twilight, the king summoned them, raising a languid hand in their direction as Baldwin brought Beth forward, her steps still careful but steadied by Baldwin’s strong arm. Edward’s mouth curved into an approving smile as he regarded Beth, still pale in the rich gown of soft gray.
“Mistress Anderson,” his voice filled the gracious hall with authority, “it appears I owe you a recompense for your dreadful ordeal. A petition. Name what you desire.”
Beth cast a quick glance toward Baldwin. His brow was furrowed, dark with worry. Eleanor stood beside him with dignity, her blue eyes wary but resolute, slim fingers clenched in skirts of the deepest burgundy. Steeling herself, Beth took one step forward, her voice clear.
“Your Grace,” Beth advanced to curtsy lightly only swaying slightly, “you are most kind. May I ask that you grant the Lady Eleanor leave to choose her own husband?”
Eleanor’s breath caught audibly.
“She is dear to me, like a sister.” Her voice softened, sincerity imbuing every word. “For her sake, let her choose her own future.”
The king’s thoughtful expression melted into a narrow smile of amusement. He considered Eleanor briefly, then nodded. “A noble request well-spoken. Then let it be so. The Lady Eleanor Devereux shall have a full year to find a fitting nobleman of her own choosing.”
For a moment, Eleanor’s blue eyes sparkled, a tremulous gratitude glowing as she touched a delicate hand upon her heart. “Your Grace’s kindness holds no measure,” she replied quietly. And though the king dismissed them with brisk magnanimity, Beth saw the moment Eleanor’s slender shoulders relaxed.
As they exited, Baldwin quietly murmured to his sister, “Eleanor, know this, I would never have married you to a man unworthy of you.” He cleared his throat heavily. “Since our mother and father passed, I have only tried to protect you as best I could.”
She turned to him with a radiant smile, squeezing his hand briefly, painfully earnest. “You are the best brother I could wish for,” she said. “Even if you do stomp about the castle bellowing orders like an angry bear.”
A soft laugh escaped, chasing away lingering shadows as Beth touched his arm. “Perhaps teddy bear suits you better. Less ferocious, more?—”
Baldwin narrowed his eyes at her, his tone dry beneath amusement. “Need I remind you again of the hours I spent in sheer panic as you lay poisoned?”
Grinning faintly, she saluted mockingly. “Point taken. Ferocious bear you remain.”
The next fewdays were taken up with preparations to depart court. Servants bustled without pause, their movements urgent and whispers hushed, creating an unmistakable air of tension in every stone corridor and shadowed hall. Baldwin finished meeting with the king and other courtiers. He issued a whirlwind of commands, his lordly authority rippling outward from him in waves. Beth found herself watching him in fascination, noticing how even seasoned London servants moved more briskly beneath the weight of that silver-eyed intensity.
The morning of their departure Beth smoothed anxious fingers over the deep lavender riding gown that had been delivered to her chamber, a gift from the queen. It was stunning, its velvet bodice embroidered with delicate silver roses. Beneath her cape, the soft clink of Harry’s stone offered a small measure of comfort as she slipped it discreetly into the hidden pocket sewn in the gown’s liner.
Outside, their horses stamped restlessly on the cobblestones, hooves wrapped in cloth to blunt the early-morning noise. Baldwin stood tall like a warrior, his drab green tunic blending easily with the misty surroundings, a heavy cloak fastened smoothly at his shoulders as he scanned the area for any threats.
They left London quietly, beneath a sky the color of tarnished silver, the early grey breaking at their backs as they passed the great city gates. Eleanor rode at Beth’s side on a spirited roan mare, her deep emerald cloak trailing behind her. Roland flanked Baldwin on the right, his sandy hair tousled carelessly beneath a battered hat that gave the usually charming knight anunexpected look of rough determination. Several hired men rode behind them, courtesy of Jacquetta.
As London’s noisy streets faded in their wake, Beth tried breaking the mounting tension. “Well,” she said lightly, glancing sidelong at Eleanor, “I’d just begun getting used to the lovely aroma of medieval London. I’ll quite miss the delightful stench of open middens and unwashed livestock.”
Eleanor’s laughter was swift and bright, like sunlight glancing off still water. “If I didn’t know you better, I might think the poison has brewed a peculiar courage within you.”
“Desperation, actually,” she confessed dryly, squeezing the reins a touch tighter as her horse snorted irritably beneath her grip. “If I joke now, I won’t have to think about what happens next.”
Ahead of them, Roland turned slightly, casting a wink over his shoulder. “Never fear, Mistress Anderson,” he called back cheerfully, “Baldwin hasn’t glowered at anyone threateningly enough today. We’re all behaving too well for him to scowl properly yet.”
Baldwin shot his friend an exasperated glare, narrowing his steely eyes. “Keep your wit close,” he warned, the barest twitch betraying some reluctant amusement. “Our enemies may find it easier to silence a laughing knight.”
Roland’s laughter echoed softly into the thick woodland canopy pressing close on either side, and despite the mounting unease, as they rode further and further from London, Beth finally started to relax.
They had traveled steadily for eight long days, putting distance between themselves and London, and now found themselves just three days from the welcoming stone walls of Glenhaven. Each mile closer to home soothed her frayed nerves, and the tension that had gripped the entire company slowly began to ease.
Without warning, an arrow screamed from the shadows, slicing jaggedly through the air to shatter violently against Baldwin’s armored shoulder guard. Instantly they were swallowed by complete chaos. Horses reared in panic, their terrified whinnies interwoven with his barked orders. Guards drew steel and suddenly the shadowy edges of the trees erupted with armored men.
