Dream of Me/Believe in Me

her. Cymbra was about to do so when surprise stopped her.
    “That's mine.” It was her very own chest, the one she had used for years and had last seen in her chamber at Holyhood what seemed a lifetime ago.
    “Yes, lady,” Brita said as she straightened.
    Marta shot her a hard look, instantly silencing her. “The Lord Wolf also directed this be brought to you, lady. It contains your belongings.”
    Slowly, Cymbra walked over to the chest, knelt beside it, and opened the lid. On top was a small wooden coffer bound in iron. She lifted it out with great care, hardly daring to believe what she held. “My medicines,” she said softly.
    Setting it aside, she explored further and found in short order her needlework, her lute, her pens and papers, her manuscripts, and a very fair selection of her clothes. All neatly, indeed meticulously, packed, so that nothing had suffered the slightest harm during the voyage.
    The same voyage wherein the Wolf had insisted there was nothing for her to wear save the ermine cloak he had given her.
    Her fingers tightened on an over tunic of topaz silk,one of her favorites. She caught herself quickly and smoothed the fabric before it could wrinkle but could not contain a soft mutter of anger.
    “Lady?” Marta queried.
    “Nothing,” Cymbra said. She drew garments from the trunk and began to dress quickly. “I was merely commenting on Lord Wolf's thoughtfulness.”
    Brita hurried to help her. Cymbra gave her an encouraging smile and, when she was done, thanked her. That earned another frown from Marta.
    As Brita tidied up from the bath, Kiirla combed out Cymbra's hair.
    “I have never seen hair of such length, lady,” the younger woman said. The words were admiring but the tone was not. There was an underlying catch of envy and disapproval. As though to emphasize it, she tugged the comb rather harder than was needed. “It must trouble you greatly to care for it.”
    Cymbra winced. “Not really. My maid, Miriam, always helped and—” She was suddenly swept by longing for her dear old friend.
    At the thought of the worry that kind, gentle woman who had raised her must be suffering, Cymbra's cheeks flushed. What was she thinking of, to be lolling amid barbaric luxuries when her friends and family despaired of her fate? For the length of the journey, she had held off her protests and her questions. But the journey was over now, they had come to their destination, and it was time for her to face whatever might lie ahead.
    She stood up and straightened her shoulders. With regal coolness, she said, “I wish to speak with Lord Wolf.”
    Marta was startled but recovered quickly and shook her head. “You must wait for him to summon you.”
    Nine days on the ship. Nine days of waiting and wondering. Nine very long, very frustrating days.
    “No,” Cymbra said and walked out of the lodge.

Chapter FIVE

    I 'M NOT SURE I UNDERSTAND. EXPLAIN TO ME again how this captive woman you were bringing back to suffer a horrible but undeniably deserved fate was transformed into a pampered princess to be surrounded by every luxury and consideration.”
    Wolf scowled at the man across the table. He was the same man who had come to greet him on the pier. They were seated in the great hall, a timber building several hundred feet long with a center hearth large enough to hold an ox.
    The walls were lined with sleeping recesses covered with blankets and furs, used by those of Wolf's men who were not settled with their own families in the fort or the town. Shields, weapons, and banners hung from the rafters. Trestle tables were set up around the hearth, with the largest of these, where Wolf sat, slightly raised so as to be visible throughout the hall.
    A few servants moved about, beginning preparations for the evening meal, but otherwise it was empty save for the two men at the head table.
    Wolf raised his drinking horn, took a long swallowof ale, and scowled at his brother. “She's not what I thought.”
    This cursory explanation earned a grin from the man known from the ice caves of the frozen north to the souks of Byzantium as Dragon.
    “I only caught a glimpse of her before you spirited her away. What sort of woman is she?”
    Wolf thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Gentle. She brought us food and blankets while we were being held prisoner. Later that night I heard her telling her old nurse that there was too much cruelty in the world.”
    Dragon's eyes narrowed. “If she thinks that way, why