Dream of Me/Believe in Me

Without pausing for an answer he knew Wolf didn't have, Dragon went on. “What if she only said that she went with Hawk willingly to keep you from blaming him? After all, it's one thing if he came back to get her because she asked him to. Then it's just a matter of family loyalty; anyone can understand that even if we wouldn't necessarily like it. But if he did it on his own, he violated your hospitality
and
the alliance. How would you have handled that?”
    “I don't know,” Wolf admitted. He had given up the pretense of working and was focused on his brother. “I wondered about that myself.”
    Dragon nodded. “I think Cymbra might have, too. She must have feared you'd kill him. She'd seen you try to do just that on the beach.”
    Again, Wolf flinched at the memory of those horrible moments when Cymbra had stood with the dagger pressed to her breast. Again, Dragon felt a moment's guilt. He shoved it aside ruthlessly.
    “Maybe she trusted that however you punished her, it wouldn't be anything as bad as what you'd do to him. And she was right about that, wasn't she?”
    Wolf's only answer was a curt nod but he continued to look at his brother.
    “And maybe,” Dragon went on, “she wasn't really lying. She could have gone with him as far as the ship but intending to go no farther.”
    “That doesn't make any sense.”
    “Doesn't it? Hawk was here for a fortnight. Cymbra made every effort to show him that she was happy but they were never allowed to speak alone during that time. Perhaps he needed to hear her say that everything really was all right, with no possibility of her being pressured into it. The only place that could have happened was on his own ship.”
    Wolf snorted. “You have the imagination of a true skald, brother. Your stories are better than many I've heard.”
    Dragon resisted the urge to knock him up against the side of the head. “What if you or I were in Hawk's position? Wouldn't we have wanted to make sure she wasn't under any kind of duress?”
    Long moments passed as Wolf wrestled with these questions. Finally, he said, “There's one problem with this tale you're spinning.”
    “What's that?”
    “She's not here anymore. If she didn't intend to leave with him, how do you explain that?”
    Dragon sighed. “I admit, that's the hard end of it. I can't explain it, not really. But think on this: Hawk had seen her whipped. He didn't have any way of knowing what would happen to her after he was gone. Whatever
she
may have wanted, under those circumstances how could
he
have left her behind?”
    Wolf didn't reply. He looked at his brother in silence. At length, he resumed spreading the straw. Dragon left the stables a short while after that but he was not discouraged. If nothing else, he had set the Wolf to thinking.
    As snow pelted him, he paused and looked out to the sea, where deadly rivers of ice now flowed. Until the year turned and the grip of winter was broken, thinking was just about all anyone could do.
    M
Y LADY , Come Away From That Window!
Cymbra jerked guiltily and quickly pulled the wooden shutter closed against the winter night, dropping over it the ox-hide cover intended to further keep out the chill. She turned around with a smile for the old woman who glared at her sternly
    “I was just getting a breath of fresh air, Miriam. It seems a bit warmer tonight.”
    “Night air of any sort is the worst thing for you.” She bustled over, seized Cymbra's hand, and drew her toward the circle of iron braziers set up on tripods. They cast light and warmth over a pair of high-backed chairs softened by heaps of colorful cushions. Nearby was a large bed hung with embroidered curtains and piled with pillows. There were several carved chests, some brought from Holyhood, and numerous other small touches that bespoke luxury and comfort but Cymbra seemed scarcely to notice them, occupied as she was with other matters.
    “I don't know what you're thinking of,” Miriam continued. “You hardly ate anything at supper and now here I find you practically dangling out the window when it's cold enough to freeze the drip off the end of Dreadful Daria's nose—”
    Miriam caught herself. She looked abashed. “Forgive me, my lady, I'm an old woman and I tend to ramble.”
    Cymbra tried hard to suppress her laughter but she just couldn't manage it. A very unladylike guffaw broke from her.
“Dreadful Daria?
Is that what people call her?”
    “I'm sorry, my lady, I know she's your half-sister