Dream of Me/Believe in Me

close her husband was until—
    “Noooo!”
    Gray eyes met hers in surprise. He made a faint sound and stared down at his hands closed over his chest. Blood flowed between his fingers, around the protruding handle of the dagger, dripping down his tunic and flowing away into the sand.
    “No!” Cymbra screamed again and tried to reach him, but Dragon was there first, thrusting her aside. Instantly, warriors surrounded Wolf, who staggered but fought to stay on his feet. Hawk made a grab for Cymbra but it was too late. He, too, was surrounded, disarmed and hurtled to the ground.
    “Take them!” Dragon roared. In moments, the shocked Saxons were stripped of their weapons, bound, and led back up the hill to the stronghold.
    C YMBRA WRAPPED HER ARMS EVEN MORE TIGHTLY around herself and stared at the far wall of the cell. She was shaking so hard she could scarcely stand. She needed all her self-control to keep from breaking down entirely.
    In the adjacent cell, separated from her by thick blocks of stone, she heard Hawk and his men. He had called out to her, to determine if she was all right and reassure her that he would not let her come to harm. The words, meant to comfort her, had only filled her with even greater dread.
    Hawk would die rather than see her hurt. She knew that beyond doubt. The moment the opportunity arose,he would do or say something to shift all the blame onto himself. She couldn't let that happen.
    Neither could she still her anguished thoughts of Wolf. Since being brought back to the stronghold, she'd had no word of him, no idea how he fared. Ulfrich must be with him but she was desperate to care for him herself, even as she knew she would not be allowed to do so.
    She could only wait as the long, seemingly endless hours wore on. Outside, twilight turned the world to shades of gray. She could just make out a few stars shining through the iron bars cemented into the small window. From the window she could also see the great hall ablaze with light, so crowded that people spilled out onto the field beyond.
    Standing on tiptoe, she curled her hands around the bars and strained to see as much as possible. She heard angry voices but the words were indistinct and gave her no news.
    Finally, just when she thought she could bear it no longer, the crowd parted. Dragon emerged from the hall and strode toward the cells. Hawk saw him, too, and shouted, trying to draw his attention, but Dragon didn't so much as glance in his direction. Instead, he ordered the door to Cymbra's cell unlocked.
    He strode into the dank chamber, grasped her firmly by the arm, and pulled her outside. He said nothing, not even when she frantically pleaded. “Tell me how Wolf is! Has the bleeding stopped? Did Ulfrich stitch the wound? Did—?”
    She broke off when the single, contemptuous look he shot her made it clear he would not answer. Forced to run alongside him to keep from being dragged, she had only a fleeting glimpse of the crowd pressing in around them, faces distorted, jeering.
    Dragon pushed her into the hall. There were morepeople in it than she had ever seen before, filling the space with their turbulent, roiling emotions. They fell silent the moment she appeared. A path opened up from the door down the length of the hall to the high table.
    Cymbra gasped with relief when she saw Wolf sitting there. He looked somewhat pale and his face was clearly strained, but the bloody tunic had been replaced by a fresh one and he sat upright without obvious pain or difficulty Her instinct was to run to him but his cold, implacable gaze stopped her.
    Dragon let go of her arm and stepped away. She swayed slightly and for a moment feared her legs would not hold her. Pride drove her to draw deeply on reserves of strength she scarcely knew she possessed. Slowly, her eyes never leaving his, Cymbra walked the length of the hall to stand before her husband and her lord.
    And, too, her judge.
    Firelight glittered in the torches set in brackets along the walls, casting shadows onto the high, peaked roof like brooding spirits gazing down on the scene. Smoke curled ghostlike from the remnants of the fire dying in the hearth. A few dogs skulked around, heads low, seeking the way out. The crowd stirred uneasily but no one spoke. That was left to the Wolf.
    “Do you remember,” he said without preamble, “that I told you there are circumstances in which a higher duty must come before any other consideration?” His voice was flat, lacking any