Dream of Me/Believe in Me

reverberated through the hall and straight through Krysta. She sucked in her breath and gripped the sides of her chair as though the sheer force of his anger might hurl her from it. A wave of coldness swept over her. In its path, she felt clammy and sick, gripped by a fever of the soul.
    “I am sorry.” So weak and inadequate but there was nothing else she could say. She was sorry for it all—her mother, herself, her foolish hopes and dreams. Sorry for everything except the stolen hours on the beach. Those she would treasure forever.
    “I will go.” She hardly knew what she said as she rose from her chair on legs that threatened not to hold her. Desperately, she glanced around for Raven but she was gone. How could she be, she who was ever faithful? Yet gone she was and there was no sign of Thorgold. Krysta stood alone before the eyes of the enraged Hawk and all his people.
    Edvard had come back to the hall, his mission to dispatch Sven accomplished. Hapless Edvard, who knew not what he walked into. Hawk pinned him with his gaze. The steward came forward swiftly.
    Hawk stood. He loomed over Krysta, a dark and powerful presence like night on a storm-tossed sea. “You will go nowhere,” he said, and gestured to Edvard. “Take the Lady Krysta to her quarters and secure her there.”
    “L-lord?” Edvard stammered, he who had seen the tender regard his master had for this lady.
    “You heard me. She goes nowhere. In time, this will all sort itself out. Meanwhile, what love and honor cannot bind, a solid iron lock will keep.”
    “You cannot…. !” Krysta cried, but Edvard's hand was on her arm and already he was drawing her away. Hawk's lieutenants were on their feet, cold and stern-faced men who would obey his commands in a heartbeat, and all the others in the hall were watching her with somber, disappointed gaze.
    All save Aelfgyth, who looked upon Krysta with shocked sympathy and touched the hem of her sleeve to tear-filled eyes.
    E DVARD LINGERED IN THE TOWER ROOM, SENDING servants for more coal for the braziers and water for the ewers, fussing over the shutters across the windows, inquiring as to whether there were enough bedcovers, enough oil for the lamps, enough of this and that and everything.
    “You have not eaten,” he said at length when all else was done and he had no other reason to tarry.
    “I cannot,” Krysta said, moving her lips with effort.
    “Oh, well, as to that, you must.” He looked with relief to Aelfgyth, who was at the door that stood, for the moment, open.
    “You must eat, my lady,” Aelfgyth agreed. “Look at what I have brought you.” She held forth a tray. “The ten-derest greens plucked fresh this eve with the vinegar you like the best to season them, a round of your favorite cheese, loaves of bread warm from the oven, raspberries from the bushes by the cove—you know they are the best—and smoked herring that Cook swears you will like above all else.” She set the tray on the table and smiledencouragingly. “How could you say no to this? Oh, and cider kept lowered down the well until scant minutes ago so that it is crisp and chill.” She paused for a moment, looking at Krysta, and her smile crumbled. “Please, my lady, you truly must eat.”
    “Later,” Krysta said, because she did not want to hurt her friends as they still seemed to be, despite all. “I will eat later. Now, if you don't mind, I would as soon rest.”
    They left with backward glances and admonitions that she must take care of herself. After the door closed, she heard the iron lock clang into place and thought that she heard Edvard sigh as he obeyed his master's order.
    Then there was nothing left to do save stand for a while in the center of the room, not moving and scarcely breathing, as she struggled to understand all that had happened. In the space of hours to go from virgin to woman, betrothed to … what? … was more than she could encompass. What was she now? Hawk still insisted on their marriage but she knew better. He would have time to think and in that time he would come to realize he could not take the risk of marrying one such as she … whoever and whatever she was. He would be glad, when all was said and done, to have turned away from her.
    But he was a stubborn man, she reminded herself, and his pride was hurt. He would not give in easily. She walked to the door and tried to turn the handle, so as to leave no hope in her mind that she was other than a captive, the room her