Dream of Me/Believe in Me

valiantly as Lord Hawk has done.”
    After a moment's thought, Krysta realized that the queen had just told her that marriage to Esa would be a poor reward for Hawk's endeavors on behalf of the crown. She could scarcely agree more, yet did she wonder what Alfred's opinion would be if he learned of her own shadowed past, assuming he had not already.
    “There is one thing I am curious about,” Eahlswith said. “You told me that you came to England believing that despite your past, you would be able to make your marriage a success. What happened to change your mind?”
    Krysta did not answer at once. The rustling of the old oak's leaves seemed to whisper of time's fleeting passage. She thought of the queen sitting on the same bench, watching her children play, and years later still seeing the shadows of those they had been, now forever beyond her reach.
    Softly, she said, “Love is a cursed blessing.”
    “Or a blessed curse. I have never been able to decide which.” She put her hand over Krysta's, squeezing gently. “I thought that might be it.”
    They sat a little while longer until the slanting rays of the sun reminded them of the passage of time and the ever-present duties that could not long be shirked. Then they returned inside, the daughter whose mother had fled into the sea and the mother whose children had flown into the great world. Just before they stepped inside, Eahlswith plucked a last rose tucked away in the shelter of the wall and handed it to Krysta.
    “I invite very few into this garden,” the queen said. “But you, Krysta of Vestfold, are always welcome here.”
    H AWK LEFT THE SMALL, PRIVATE CHAMBER WHERE he had been speaking with Alfred. He passed several nobles of his acquaintance but without seeing them. Those worthies were left to wonder what so preoccupied the great Hawk of Essex that he neglected even the simple courtesies.
    He was outside in the courtyard before he became aware of his surroundings and even then he did not stop until he was beyond the walls of the town itself, surrounded by no more than trees and the gurgle of the passing river. There he stopped, and without an instant's thought slammed his fist repeatedly into the trunk of an impassive oak.
    Damn her!
How could he have thought her such a gentle, if misguided, woman? How had he imagined she would be malleable to his hand? His for the persuading and the winning. He had even thought to woo her! What a mockery on the poor benighted fool twice tricked by that scheming vixen of the northlands.
    She had gone to the queen. Without a word to him, without a hint of what she intended, she had laid her case at Eahlswith's feet and somehow persuaded that good woman to take up her cause.
    And now—what was it Alfred had said?
Perhaps she would be better suited to an abbey.
A place where she could put to use her love of learning and do good works. One marriage of disappointment, why risk another? There were other maidens in Vestfold worthy to be his wife. A word to the Wolf to set it right and then …
    No, by God!
A thousand times
No!
She was his, given to him by her wastrel brother, and he was damned if he would ever let her go. No one, not even the king, couldtake from him that which was his. Never had he spoken to his lord in such a way, never had Alfred known the heat of his rage. The king had borne it well, even smiling after a small start of surprise. But Alfred had not relented. Indeed, he had gone on to say a great deal more.
Not worth the risk. Too much at stake. Why take the chance if the lady herself is unwilling?
    The lady
would damn well do as she was told. She had lain with him, held him in her arms, welcomed him into her body, matched his passion with her own and in the process given him a glimpse of paradise he did not think to relinquish. And all the while she had plotted to end their betrothal. Incredible.
    He slumped against the abused tree, rubbing his forehead into the rough bark, and tried to think how a warrior and leader of his experience had been so gulled. He was no untried boy when it came to women. Always they had come to him eagerly and he had treated them well, within limits. Limits
he
set. Perhaps some had hoped for more from him and been disappointed, but he had never given any cause for such hope. Yet he had a sudden sense of how a woman might feel when she finally and irrevocably realized that he was slipping from her.
    As Krysta thought to slip from him, for whatever reason, that nonsense about