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as long as you see fit. And we shall aid you in any way possible.”

CHAPTER THREE
    â€œWHERE is your father?” Daria asked Armand as they finished breaking their fast with a hot, delicious gruel laced with dried fruits and nuts.
    â€œHe is ailing, as he has for some time. For the past six months, he has not been able to rise from his bed.”
    â€œYou must take me to him.”
    â€œAs you wish, m’lady,” he said with a smile, and Daria blushed, realizing that she had no place in ordering a future count of Les Baux about. He lifted his arm and ushered her away from the main room. Daria met Gianni’s eyes for a moment, and his brows were lowered in consternation. She brushed off the look in irritation. If he was not going to formalize his claim upon her heart, she owed him no explanation.
    Vito and Ugo fell into step behind them, a silent guard she allowed. Armand ignored them.
    The lord led her down a stair and through a hall. He cleared his throat. “How is it that you do not travel with Marco Adimari?”
    Daria shifted, suddenly more aware of Vito and Ugo’s presence. But this was no time for secrets. “Marco broke our handfast.”
    â€œWhat? Why? Your love was fabled. We have sung of it in our own courts. My mother told me you loved one another as children. That you were destined to be man and wife.”
    Daria smiled a little. “It was a grand love. But unable to surpass what men of power need most. An heir.” She paused. It was best to be out with it and get beyond it. Soon enough, if the lord thought her mysterious and intriguing enough to try to pull her from Gianni, he would need to know it as well. After all, Vito and Ugo already knew of it. “I proved barren,” she said.
    It had been some time since she had felt the impact of how her womb had failed her. She despised herself for dropping her eyes.
    Lord Armand drew her to a pause by a torch and slowly, tentatively reached out to lift her chin. Daria was acutely aware of her men’s presence, but she could not keep her eyes from slowly lifting to meet the handsome noble’s.
    â€œDaria d’Angelo, you are a fine woman, a prize, regardless of the heart-ache you have suffered. You are serving our God where you live and breathe, and his angels must be singing in the heavens because of what you have done already, to say nothing of what you shall do ahead.” He shook his head and dropped his hand, his eyes rife with wonder. “A healer. You are a healer,” he said. “ ’Tis a remarkable, enviable gift. Never forget that you have value and might as a daughter of God and daughter of Toscana, regardless of what your womb produces.”
    He resumed their walk, and Daria could hear Vito and Ugo breathe a sigh of relief. She could feel Armand take a step away from her within, as well as without. He did not wish to take a barren bride. But it was just as well—she could no longer imagine being with anyone but Gianni, if even that was to be. She appreciated Armand’s friendship, his encouragement of her and the task ahead. In the lord’s eyes, she still had value, merit, even though Marco had abandoned her.
    â€œI fear my father is beyond healing. He merely waits for something, day in and day out. The physicians have come and gone, all claiming old age will take him at any moment.”
    â€œMayhap,” Daria said, climbing a narrow stair behind Armand. “Yet I should still pay my respects to a kindly count who once welcomed a daughter of Toscana as potentially one of his own.”
    Armand smiled down at her and gestured inward. “Prepare thyself,” he whispered.
    Daria stepped forward, hesitated, and had to fight against the urge to step back. The smell of decay and urine was overwhelming. A young maid rose from the corner of the dark room.
    â€œSaints in heaven,” muttered Daria, bringing a hand to her nose. “Does your noble patient have