Dream of Me/Believe in Me

was a man of power and discipline. Yet just then he felt as though the years had fallen away and he was no more than a callow boy confronted by the first mysterious stirrings of his body.
    Absurd. Absolutely, utterly absurd. Also mad, for she was, he reminded himself for perhaps the hundredth time, his betrothed's
servant.
Even if his soon-to-be wife was the finest woman to walk the Earth, such lunatic behavior could turn her into another Daria. The thought of being shackled to a shrill, harping woman who would actually have some claim on his time and attention filled him with sensible dread. Something would have to be done. Perhaps he could persuade the Lady Krysta to send her servants home. He could provide her with all the servants she could possibly need but she might resist all the same, preferring the company of those familiar to her. So he would begin his marriage by making his wife sad and lonely, all in order to avoid making her jealous and enraged. He sighed, wondering how large a supply of hair ribbons he should set about acquiring.
    He seemed vexed, Krysta thought, and wondered at the cause. Wondered, too, about the odd look he had given her just before ignoring her completely. That look had made her feel warmed clear through and oddly tremulous. How extraordinary that someone could make her feel that way merely by looking at her. How exhilarating that the person doing it was to be her husband. She felt buoyed, as though she floated on a cushion of water, elated yet calm all at the same time. That made no sense, she was contradicting herself.
He
was contradicting herself,making her feel all sorts of at-odds emotions that jumbled together inside her. He kept looking at her, on the beach, in the hall, in her dreams. She had thought to stay beyond his sight so that later he would not recognize the girl who came to him as his wife. Now she had to wonder if there was still a chance that would work, and if it did not, how would she explain? Laugh it all off as a joke? Admit her fears, cajole him to excuse them? Neither appealed to her but she might have no other choices. Not that it mattered in the end, not so long as he loved her.
    He desired her, she knew that in some essential way of knowing she had never known before. But desire was not love. So, too, did she know that. How to bridge the gulf? Krysta toyed with the food before her, finding she had no appetite. Raven was too busy with another pigeon to notice, but Thorgold did. He shot her a sympathetic look before returning to his ale.
    For all that, Krysta slept surprisingly well and longer than she was accustomed to. She woke to squeals of delight coming from just beyond the women's hall. Finding it empty save for herself, she dressed hurriedly and went out into a warm, bright day. Almost at once she spied the girl child Edythe, leader of the motley crew that tumbled at her heels. So, too, did Edythe see her and grin broadly. “Daria has gone to market again. One of the kitchen boys heard her say she wouldn't be back until supper.”
    Before Krysta could think, she returned Edythe's grin and asked eagerly, “What shall we do first?”
    The flicker of surprise in Edythe's gray eyes alerted Krysta to her misstep. How foolish of her; adults would not normally join in the antics of children. But her own childhood had been barren of such companionship and she had missed it truly. Not that she wasn't grateful for all she had known, only that she wished to know just a little of what it meant to be an ordinary child in an ordinary world.
    “I meant what will you do first?”
    Edythe continued looking at her. “I don't know.” She hesitated a moment, weighing the novel situation. Kindness, or perhaps curiosity, won out. “But you can come with us if you want.”
    “I would be in the way,” Krysta said softly.
    Edythe shrugged. “You weren't yesterday.” She turned to go, looked back over her shoulder. “C'mon then.”
    Krysta went, trailing after the little girl until they linked up with her friends, who, after their initial surprise, accepted her reappearance among them with the ease of open-hearted children. They went first to the river for an extended bout of frog hunting, which gave way to a frog-jumping competition won by a shy little sprite of a boy who glowed with pleasure when Edythe declared his frog the victor. From there, they gathered berries and wild greens, lolling in the grass to eat them. The day warmed and they paddled in the river,