Chapter Six
Joanie threw the door open, her heart pounding, but she quietly shut it to not alarm Diana.
She rested her back against the door and closed her eyes, overcome with relief that she had not been caught — at least by the master.
When she gained control of her breathing, she crossed the room to where Diana lay.
She sat down beside her on the bed and gently rested her hand on Diana’s forehead.
She felt a little warm, but at least she was resting soundly.
Joanie took the pouch out of her satchel and crumbled some of the dried green leaves into the bubbling kettle, which simmered over the fire.
Waiting for the leaves to steep, her mind drifted back to the strange man in the hallway.
He had been so tall, leanly built, and achingly beautiful, but his eyes had been so bleak.
She had felt as if she stared into a great shadowy abyss where no light could ever shine.
And when he touched her, she felt currents of heat flow from his body into hers as if he had tried to invade her very soul. What sort of man had such power?
Diana groaned in her sleep, pulling Joanie to the present. She pushed the stranger from her thoughts. He did not matter. Joanie had no intention of leaving Diana’s room again; thus, she would never again see his black eyes or feel his blazing touch.
After a few hours, a knock sounded at the door, and a servant from the kitchen came in.
She did not look at Joanie or Diana — they never did.
She simply walked in, set the tray down, then left.
Joanie glanced at the food. As always, it was a tray for one.
Joanie looked over at Diana, still sleeping.
So, she moved the tray over to the hearth to keep the broth and meat warm.
At different points, Diana awoke and coughed up more phlegm and much to Joanie’s alarm even more blood.
Then she would fall back down onto her pillow and immediately succumb to sleep.
Long after the sun reached its highest point in the sky, Diana awoke.
“Joanie,” she rasped.
Joanie pressed her hand to Diana’s forehead. “I’m here,” she said.
“I’m glad,” Diana breathed.
“Do you think you could sit up a little?”
Diana nodded and started to lift her head, but then she winced. “I ache everywhere.”
“Keep still then, but you must drink some broth.” Joanie supported Diana’s head with one hand and tipped the bowl to her lips.
After swallowing barely a thimble’s worth, Diana signaled she’d had enough. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Joanie gently set her head back down on the pillow and returned the bowl to the hearth.
“What have you had to eat?” Diana asked, her voice raw.
“Don’t worry about me,” Joanie said.
“It is not worry, Joanie. It is love. You are my family, my sister.”
Tears welled in Joanie’s eyes. “Just rest, Diana, you need your strength.”
A slight smile curved Diana’s lips. “I think I will.” She closed her eyes, a look of peace shaping her features only to be marred by panic an instant later. “Saints above, what is the hour?”
“It is nones?”
“Why did you not say?” Diana cried, straining to sit up.
Joanie rushed to her bedside. “You cannot get up.”
“But Joanie, I must.”
Joanie shook her head, gently pressing her hands into Diana’s shoulders to keep her still.
“I need to get ready. I am singing tonight.” Diana’s eyes darted around the room wildly.
“Diana, look at me,” Joanie said softly.
Diana held Joanie’s gaze for several moments, and then tears flooded her eyes. “I can’t sing, can I?” she whispered.
Joanie pressed her lips together to contain her own tears, and shook her head in reply, not trusting herself to speak.
“What am I going to do?” Diana cried, covering her face with her hands.
Just then a knock sounded at the door. Joanie looked up just as Simon entered and hastened to Diana’s bedside. “How are you?” he asked.
Joanie backed away to give them space. Mayhap, Simon would know what to do. She watched as he sat down and covered Diana’s hand with his. Stepping farther away, she retreated to where she would not hear their whispered words.
“No,” Diana snapped, drawing Joanie’s gaze. She stood and returned to the bed, crossing her arms over her chest, ready to do battle with Simon if need be.
“There is no other way,” Simon said, his voice strained with frustration.
Diana looked away. “My answer is final.”
Simon withdrew his hand and stiffened in his seat. “It isn’t really up to you.” Then he turned and locked eyes with Joanie.
“You will be singing tonight,” he said simply.
Joanie felt her limbs tremble. Her arms fell slack at her sides.
“Don’t listen to him, Joanie. He...” Diana said, straining to raise her voice. Her last words were lost to her cough.
Joanie reached for Diana’s shoulders. “Help me lift her head,” she said to Simon.
When her cough subsided, Diana lay in a weakened state as if lost in a thick fog.
Simon grabbed Joanie’s arm. “You will sing in her stead,” he said, his voice harsh.
Joanie winced. “I cannot ... I am not like her. I’m not beautiful. I’m not—”
“Your voice is,” Simon interrupted. “I’ve heard you sing to her.
And though you are not beautiful in the same way, you are unique.
There is a boldness to your features, and your voice ...
I’ve never heard anything like it before.
” He grabbed her hands, his voice now pleading.
“She can’t do it. She will collapse on stage and be ruined. ”
“Don’t listen to him,” Diana croaked.
Joanie yanked her hands free from Simon’s grasp and hastened to Diana’s side.
“What Simon will not tell you is that he is only seeks to spread out Geoffrey’s fury among us all, so that I alone do not bear the brunt of it. But I am the one who is unable to fill my role. I alone should be punished.”
Now Joanie understood Simon’s intent. She certainly would invite the master’s anger were she to take Diana’s place.
In fact, her offense would be so great, and Simon’s, too, for allowing her to sing, that Diana’s absence may be overlooked entirely.
She bent and pressed a kiss to Diana’s cheek.
Then she turned to Simon and said without hesitation, “I’ll do it. I will sing.”