Dream of Me/Believe in Me

the dark by an unknown man who might intend … what? A moment later, he moved and she knew him, not by his features, which she still could scarcely see, but by the essence of him, somehow already familiar to her.
    “My lord …”
    “What do you here?” He did not wait for her reply. “Have you no better sense, woman, than to wander about in the night wearing no more than …” He flicked a finger at the thin fabric of her shift where it billowed along her arm. She stepped back so suddenly that she would have lost her balance had not he caught her. They stood, scarcely a hand's breadth apart, his arm a band around her waist. So many impressions, flooding her so suddenly. The heat of him and the strength, the puzzlement in his eyes, the need to smooth his troubled brow, to offer comfort and far more.
    Over his right shoulder, a star fell. The streak of silver distracted Krysta just long enough for reason to return. “Look,” she said, and when he turned to do so, she slipped from his hold like water through the crevices of a stone.
    He caught at air, scowled. She thought to flee, thought better of it. He was a hunter, it was wiser not to give him anything to pursue.
    “What was your mistress thinking to send you here? She found two servants of rare ugliness, couldn't she have found a third?”
    “They are not ugly,” Krysta protested, instantly affronted. Thorgold and Raven were beautiful in her eyes.
    The Hawk closed his for a moment, summoning patience. “It matters not. Why did she send you?”
    Ah, why indeed? To spy on him, to ferret out the essence of his nature, to conspire that he might come to love … herself. Oh, yes, that would explain itself easily enough.
    “To see to her comfort, lord.”
    His laugh was mocking. “Then she sorely misjudged the situation, didn't she? Is she truly that innocent?”
    Was she? Just then it was not innocence Krysta felt. Knowledge was stirring in her, ancient, feminine, irresistible. But he was waiting, his silence demanding an answer. “She is … as she is, lord.”
    What more could she say? She was as she was. He would love her for it or destroy her. It was in God's hands.
    A moment more he stared at her. His broad chest rose and fell as a sigh escaped him. Into that silence, he spoke a single syllable. “Go.”
    She went, swiftly and without looking back, knowing there truly was no escape.
    T HE AIR, HEAVY AT THE START OF DAY, GREW HEAVIER as the hours passed. By afternoon, the sky was a lowering gray tinged with yellow. Dogs went about with their backs arched or slunk low to the ground. Horses whinnied anxiously. People hurried about their tasks, women doing their wash early and taking it in before it was fully dry. The sea grew unnaturally calm without a breath of wind to stir it. Inhaling deeply, Krysta felt her chest ache or perhaps it was her heart. Pierced by longing for the crisp, pine-scented breezes of home, she ventured down to the beach. The tide was out but the birds who should have been taking the opportunity to feed were nowhere to beseen. Even the gulls were absent. She stayed only a short while, driven off by the mournfulness that hung over the place.
    Back within the burgh, merchants were taking in their stalls and lowering their shutters. The lanes were being stripped bare. Even the wooden troughs from which horses drank were being moved inside. The sky hung ever lower, seeming to brush the tops of the distant hills. Apprehension prickled down Krysta's back. She had seen wild storms at home when cyclones raged off the North Atlantic but this was different. The strange color of the sky and the leaden air set her nerves on edge. She looked for Raven and Thorgold but found no sign of them. Gone to ground somewhere, no doubt.
    Even the smith was finishing his work early. He grinned when he saw the basket of herring she carried and waved her on to where the tabby lay enthroned. The gift was accepted with blinking courtesy and promptly devoured. Krysta lingered a few minutes, watching the kittens sleep, then took her leave. Just outside the forge, she was buffeted by a sudden swirl of wind. She tucked her head down and made for the women's hall at the other side of the compound. But before she could get very far, the sky opened and a sheet of rain soaked her to the skin. Staggering at the sudden onslaught, she looked around for closer shelter, saw the stables, and ran for them. Inside, the door closed firmly behind her, Krysta sighed with