“Christ’s Mass?” Dirick shook his head, the weariness rushing over him again with full force. But he was not so fogged that he didn’t recognize her implicit command that he should stay and entertain her ladies. “I did not realize…aye, mayhap I will stay for the feast.” He was rewarded with a warm smile from the beautiful queen, and he considered for not the first time the challenge Henry must have, managing such a powerful woman as his wife.

It was a blessing Dirick would never have that cross to bear.

He staged a brief bow. “May I beg your leave, your majesties?”

“Aye, Dirick, only one more thing.” Something akin to grief brushed the king’s ruddy face, and Dirick recognized pain in his liege’s eyes. “You must know I am greatly grieved at your father’s passing. He was a good man, and a loyal friend and advisor. I will do whatever I can to help you bring his killer to justice.”

Chapter Two

It was late in the day of Christ’s Mass. Maris trudged through the new-fallen snow from the hall out into the bailey and over to the door that opened into the small structure that was her herbary. The little building was both her sanctuary and her liberation.

This day, the new miller’s wife was about to deliver her new baby, and Maris would be there as her healer. It was true that one of the village midwives or leeches could be there to help her, but Maris had tired of watching in vain for her father’s return and she didn’t wish to have idle hands.

Keeping her hands busy would keep her mind from stewing on the fact that Allegra refused to tell her anything more of Bon de Savrille.

The worry gnawed away in her mind.

As did the memory of de Savrille’s hungry expression as he looked at her in the hall.