Dream of Me/Believe in Me

sink into gloom. As minstrels sang and strummed their lyres, and witty sallies darted around the table, a parade of exquisitely fashioned dishes passed before her. Perhaps sensing her unease, Eahlswith quietly suggested several Krysta might find appealing and showed no particular surprise upon hearing her soft admission that she did not eat meat. The queen had five living children, as she told Krysta, and she was by nature motherly. Before very long, Krysta found herself relaxing at least enough to draw her first easy breath since entering the great hall.
    But her relative ease did not last long for as her gaze drifted over the glittering assembly, she met the stone-hard stare of a beautiful woman seated not far from the high table. The lady was perhaps a year or two older than Krysta, magnificently garbed in velvet emblazoned with jewels, and endowed with hair so light it appeared spun of moonbeams. Her face was oval, her features dainty and perfectly formed, and her skin as smooth as fresh milk. Seeing Krysta looking at her, the lady tilted her head slightly to one side with poised grace and stared down her pretty, freckleless nose.
    Her obvious disdain embarrassed Krysta, who felt as though she had been caught gawking. She looked awayquickly but not before noting the men seated to either side of the lady. They, too, looked at Krysta with unmistakable contempt.
    “Lord Udell,” the queen said quietly as she took note of the silent exchange. “And Lord Wolscroft. That is Udell's sister, Lady Esa, between them.” Eahlswith hesitated a moment before she offered gentle counsel. “You must not be troubled by Udell and Esa. Whatever they may wish people to believe, there was never any clear understanding of a marriage.”
    “Marriage?” The word emerged as little more than a croak, so startled was Krysta.
    “Oh, dear,” Eahlswith murmured, “perhaps I should not have said anything. Or perhaps it is best you know after all. Not that there is anything to know, really. Only that Udell and Esa would have liked to make an alliance with Lord Hawk. Esa fancied he would marry her but there has never been any indication Hawk himself really considered it.”
    Despite the queen's reassurances, Krysta's heart plunged. She glanced again at the lovely Esa and knew in an instant she must be looking at the woman Daria had described as a lady of true nobility and worth whom Hawk had wanted to marry. She was as beautiful as any woman could ever hope to be, as well as graceful, elegant, and poised. No doubt she also had a respectable dowry and a family proud to claim her. No wonder Esa looked upon her with contempt. She must regard her as having stolen her own proper position.
    Crestfallen, she stole a quick look at Hawk but he was deep in conversation with the king and a priest who sat at Hawk's other side. They were talking animatedly about something or other. So far as Krysta could tell, Hawk appeared unconcerned by the presence of the woman who had expected to marry him. Nor did it appear that he gave her any notice throughout the evening. Instead, it seemedto be Krysta who drew his attention for just as she realized how tired she was, Hawk said a quiet word to the king, who spoke in turn to the queen, who summoned several servants.
    “Forgive me, my dear,” Eahlswith said, “I have so enjoyed talking with you that I've overlooked how weary you must be from your journey. Quarters have been prepared for you. Do get a good rest.” She gave Krysta an affectionate smile. “I believe my husband has plans for an excursion tomorrow and you are invited along.”
    Hardly hearing that last part, Krysta murmured her thanks. Hawk rose as she did and accompanied her from the hall. At the foot of the stairs leading to the guest quarters, he took her hand and touched it lightly to his lips. His eyes, meeting hers, were watchful. “Sleep well.”
    She nodded although she believed there was very little chance of that. She hardly noticed that the room to which she was shown was as luxurious as that which she occupied at Hawkforte. A smiling young maid did her best to make up for the absence of Aelfgyth, who had remained gratefully at home with her Edvard. When Krysta had bathed and donned a shift, the maid brushed out her hair, then took her leave. Left alone, Krysta sat at the window for a few minutes, listening to the sounds of revelry still floating up from the great hall. But before long, they began to lessen. Her head felt very