Dream of Me/Believe in Me

done before, Krysta jumped from the bed and began looking for her garments. She found her mother's dress at last, folded carefully away in a large wooden chest at the foot of the bed. In the same chest were all of Krysta's garments. With a start, she realized that other of her belongings—her precious books, the water-polished stones brought from the bay in front of her cliffside home, even a small box holding pressed flowers from that same cliff—were set out about the chamber.
    Wondering at the thoughtful hand that had made her feel just a little at home, Krysta drew a chemise, stockings, and a simple day gown from the chest. She found water in an ewer on a table beside the windows. Halfway throughscrubbing her face, she realized that the water was warm. A servant must have come in while she slept. Worried that she be thought a layabout, she hurried her ablutions and was quickly dressed. But before she could summon the courage to open her door, there was a soft knock. At her invitation, a young woman bearing a tray entered and gave Krysta a cautious smile.
    “Good day, my lady. I hope you slept well. My name is Aelfgyth. So it please you, I am to be your maid.”
    “My maid?” So surprised was she that Krysta almost blurted out that she had never had a maid. Servants, to be sure, but Raven and Thorgold both were independent souls who still tended to see her as the child they had nurtured. They were as likely to do as she said simply because she said it as they were to fly to the moon. In truth and all things considered, less likely. Still, she did not think it wise to parade her lack of experience in such matters.
    “I am sure we will get on well together, Aelfgyth.” With a glance at the tray the young woman had set on the table, Krysta saw with pleasure that it held fresh baked bread, berries, and a round of cheese—food she would have selected for herself.
    “Your serving woman says you do not eat meat,” the young woman said, a little anxiously as though conversing with Raven had been no easy matter. “Else I would have brought some of the sausage Cook made this week. It is very good.”
    “I am sure it is.” Krysta smiled and gestured at the tray. “This suits me very well. Be assured though that I do not expect my meals brought, nor do I usually sleep so late. Indeed, I don't believe I have ever done so in my life.”
    “No doubt yesterday was eventful,” Aelfgyth murmured diplomatically. She hesitated a moment before adding, “When it pleases you, my lady, the steward Edvard is waiting to attend you.”
    The redoubtable Edvard was waiting on her? Krysta's surprise must have shown, for Aelfgyth said, “His lordship is on the training field with his men but he left instructions for Edvard to show you about the manor and answer whatever questions you might have as to the running of it.”
    Edvard was to show her the domestic side of Hawkforte, not Daria. Doubting though she did that the steward was pleased with such an assignment, she was grateful to be spared the company of her future sister-in-law if only temporarily.
    Reluctant to keep the steward waiting any longer than he already had been, Krysta made short work of her meal and hastened from the royal chamber. She found Edvard on the steps to the main hall, where he was going over his accounts. At her arrival, he rose quickly, stuffed the roll of parchment into his tunic, and bowed. As he straightened, he and Aelfgyth shared a look so swift it might have eluded Krysta had anxiousness not made her unusually alert. At sight of Aelfgyth's smile, his brows rose but he lowered them swiftly and gave prudent attention to his master's soon-to-be bride.
    “Good morrow, my lady. I trust you slept well?”
    “Well and too long. Aelfgyth tells me you are to show me the manor.”
    “As my lord has directed.” Edvard paused, frowning. Confronting the remarkable creature who had appeared suddenly last eve bearing no apparent ill effects from having deceived a man known the length and breadth of England for acting with ruthless speed against any who displeased him, the steward thought some further explanation might be in order. “For certain, the Lord Hawk would see to the matter himself were he not engaged in training his men. That task must take precedence over all others in our unsettled times. Hawkforte may appear apeaceful burgh, but the appearance and the reality both are earned only through constant and devoted diligence to duty, which we are