Dream of Me/Believe in Me

alliance forged by Wolf and Hawk that her own marriage was meant to strengthen yet further. With that, she had no quarrel. If her life could be an instrument of peace, she would not have it otherwise. But she would be loved, lest the cold, gray waters that had claimed her mother claim her in turn.
    Such gloomy thoughts had no place amid revelry. She put it aside, and a short time later she slipped away with Raven and Thorgold to find what rest she could in this strange new place she must call her home … evermore.
    B EFORE THE LAST STARS OF NIGHT HAD WINKED OUT , before the first cock of morn had crowed, the stirrings of sparrows in the eaves of the women's hall woke Krysta from uneasy slumber. For a moment, lying there in the gray shadows, she had no idea where she was. The air smelled of wood and smoke, the same as at home. The birds rustling in beds of ivy sounded no different. But theair was warmer, tangy with salt yet soft, and the murmur of waves in the distance was softer still for they made land on a gentler shore. Memory returned swiftly and with it the last wisps of sleep vanished as though they had never been. She rose and glanced at Raven, who still slept, head tucked against her chest. Softly, so as not to disturb her, Krysta dressed. She wore a simple wool gown dyed blue with a mix of dandelion root, woad, and juniper. Around her waist was a plain leather belt from which dangled the traditional tools of a trusted house servant—a knife, a thimble, a small felt case holding needles, precious scissors, and keys belonging to the chests that had come with her. Over her hair, she threw a finely woven white shawl, one end of which she tossed over her shoulder. Thus ready to face the day, she tiptoed past the other sleeping alcoves and stepped outside.
    Her first surprise was the men on the walls. They were awake, alert, walking their posts. At such an hour? And not only a token watch but a large number, keeping guard through the night while she and everyone else in Hawkforte slumbered. More than anything else she had so far seen, that vigilance brought home to her the sheer power and determination of the keep's master. The keep's and her own …
    Hastily, she looked away, noting the fires that were already lit here and there, including in the kitchens. A goodly number of servants were stirring despite the early hour. The gates remained closed save for a small door set to one side, through which other early risers were being admitted. Slipping through the shadows, Krysta made her way to that door. She waited until a gaggle of washer women were entering, then slipped out amidst the confusion of their greetings, their sallies, and their giggles. Making her way down the hillside, she felt a prickling at the back of her neck as though the fortress itself sternly observed her going.
    Quickening her pace, she made for the woods near the bottom of the hill. Within the shelter of the first line of trees, she paused to catch her breath. Such a soft land, so gentle in comparison to her own, so enticing as to make her senses swim. A tiny brook gurgled softly nearby. Following it, Krysta found her way to a larger stream running over moss-draped rocks. Here and there, silver fish glinted and turtles dozed on fallen logs. The stream became a fall that spilled over boulders, flowing on into a tranquil pool that slipped almost unseen toward the sea. The ground turned from fecund soil to moist sand. Oaks gave way to pine. The sweetness of fragrant grass yielded to salt tang. She emerged from the coolness of the wood to stand suddenly on open beach. A bay stretched out before her, cradled within the curving arms of the land.
    On impulse, she threw her own arms wide as though to embrace all that she saw. Her feet danced lightly over the sand. She whirled, laughing as she eluded the wash of foam advancing and retreating along the beach. Behind her, the sun rose in splendor, bathing the shore in golden light.
    Bathing the woman, too, at her play. Her slender body moving this way and that, so lightly that she seemed not quite connected to the land, she appeared more sprite than human. From his stance on an outcropping of rock above the beach, Hawk watched, suddenly entranced even as he half expected her to vanish into the mist of sea spray. His keen eyes followed her progress along the beach. The breeze changed direction slightly and he caught a riff of her laughter, like crystalline droplets of sound. Abruptly, he realized he