Dream of Me/Believe in Me

that led them into harm.” This he knew from Aelfgyth, who had whispered it as she left, after bringing hot water, honey cakes, and a fierce hug forher mistress. Edvard was going to marry that girl and soon, Hawk had decided, for she deserved nothing less.
    Krysta emerged from behind the screen. She had changed into a simple gown in a dull shade of brown, far plainer than the elegant garb she usually wore in the evenings. Her hair was dragged into two tight braids that hung over her shoulders. He winced to see it so confined. She appeared tense, downcast, and clearly filled with dread. Hawk cursed inwardly but took pains to appear unconcerned. “Look, sweetheart, it's not your fault he's family. I've got Daria to cope with. I'm the last person to cast stones because someone else has an unpleasant relative.”
    “It's not that,” she said softly yet offered nothing more.
    He got off the bed and went to her, putting his hands on her shoulders to stop her when she tried to turn away. “Then for pity's sake, what is it? Do you not want him here when we wed? Fine, he'll be gone on the next tide. He simply isn't important, Krysta. I don't understand why he has you worried so.”
    “Did you not hear what he said, that he knew who I was and you did not?”
    “I heard it … it means nothing. Unless you are to tell me you are not the Lady Krysta of Vestfold.” A sudden thought flooded his mind. “Mercy of heaven, you aren't really her servant, are you?” He was scrabbling to think how he would smooth over the inevitable problems that would occur with his insistence on wedding the maid rather than her mistress, when she put that to rest.
    “No, of course not. I am Krysta of Vestfold. But I don't think you can simply discount what brings Sven here. He never bestirs himself if he can possibly avoid it, yet he came all this way. For what purpose?”
    “Did he give evidence of having half a brain, I would say to wish us well. However …”
    “Exactly. After our father's death, Sven summoned me to his manor.” She shuddered at the memory. “He left no doubt that he loathed our father for marrying again and that he despised me. Truly, I have no idea what he would have done eventually had the jarl of Sciringesheal not chosen me as your bride. Not even Sven is stupid enough to go against the Wolf but I fear he has some other plan in mind now. For all that he lacks intelligence, he can still do great harm.”
    “You are mistaken. He can do naught to hurt you.”
    He saw her eyes glisten with unshed tears and cursed again but inwardly. Gently, with great care, he took hold of one of her braids where it fell across her breast. She offered no resistance. Slowly, meticulously, he unwound first one braid, then the other, and ran his fingers through the curls of gold. When her hair tumbled free, he found the most heavily bejeweled ribbons and handed them to her.
    “If you would, wear these to please me.”
    She did and, understanding his intent, returned behind the screen to change the drab gown for the one of spun sunlight and sea foam she had worn first on the night she assumed her true identity. The impulse to dress herself so plainly had faded almost as quickly as it had come. Her mother's gown gave her strength, and the look in Hawk's eyes when she emerged again offered her even more.
    Thus garbed, Krysta steeled herself for what she suspected was to come. She walked beside Hawk into the great hall with her head high and the sorrow of her heart well hidden. The rustling of all those gathered there died away, replaced by an expectant silence.
    Scarcely had Hawk and Krysta taken their seats than Sven appeared from the guest quarters. Daria was at his side, her thin face unusually avid with excitement. Withthem was Father Elbert, who strove without success to maintain his usual guise of aloof piety. The effort was too much for him and he sported twin spots of color on his pallid cheeks.
    In violation of all the canons of hospitality, Hawk did not rise to greet his “guest.” Neither did Edvard spring forward to offer the usual seat at the high table or summon the servants to attend the lordling. Rather, the steward remained standing just behind Hawk's high-backed chair, arms folded across his chest, his expression grim.
    “You have recovered yourself?” Hawk asked coldly.
    His tone brought Sven up short. He stopped where he was, several yards in front of the high table, and set his features in an expression of