Dream of Me/Believe in Me

all the ladies since Hawk's gifts began arriving late the previous day. With the morning, Krysta had awakened to find her chamber transformed into a treasure room and still the gifts continued to appear.
    She was having difficulty coming to terms with it because with her return to consciousness had come a return of the nausea that had plagued her since shortly after her arrival in Winchester. The queen's remedy of dry husk and chamomile had worked once again, but Krysta was still stiff and sore from all the bruises. A hot bath did make her feel much better, especially since it was scented with some of the rare oils Hawk had sent. But a look in the mirror as her hair was being brushed made her shudder. She could not bear the thought of him seeing her like that.
    When he came by later in the day, she pleaded fatigue but sent out a message thanking him for the gifts. No doubt he would be content with that, for what man wanted to be in a sickroom?
    Hawk was there the next morning when she awoke. He was seated beside the bed in the chair previously occupied by the queen, who hovered in the background with her ladies. He had an extremely firm look on his face, as though it would take nothing short of an act of God to move him. When he saw that she was awake, he smiled. Leaning forward, he said gently, “Good morning. How are you feeling?”
    Krysta began to sit up, meaning to tell him that she was fine, but before she could speak the damned nausea hit her yet again. Mortified, she groaned and pressed her hand to her mouth. Instantly, Hawk was on his feet, bending over her at the same time as he demanded of the queen, “What's wrong with her? She's ill. What's the matter?”
    Eahlswith bustled to Krysta's side, helped her to sit up just a little, and handed her the cup of chamomile that was already prepared. As she sipped it slowly, Eahlswith said, “She's been queasy every morning when she awakens for more than a week now.” Her eyes met Hawk's. “I was concerned that might no longer be the case after the battering she took in the river, but happily nothing has changed.”
    Krysta heard her as though from a distance and with bewilderment. Why on earth would Eahlswith be happy that she was still nauseated every morning? That made no sense at all. And why was Hawk staring at her like that, as though the ground had just dropped out from under his feet? He actually looked pale, and what was that he was saying?
    “Sweetheart, I'm sorry.”
    Sorry? Why would he be sorry?
    She shook her head, giving up trying to figure out any of it. Still scarcely half-awake, she said, “There's no reason for you to apologize. It's hardly your fault I have an upset stomach.”
    Hawk and the queen looked at each other. She raised an eyebrow. He reddened. “My dear,” Eahlswith said gently, “I know you did not have the benefit of a mother's guidance when you were young, but there were other women who helped to raise you, were there not?”
    What a very odd subject for the queen to want to discuss just then. All the same, Krysta did her best to respond. “I was raised by two faithful servants, Raven and Thorgold. But yes, there were women on my lands.”
    “And did they talk to you about … things?”
    “Of course. We always talked about the harvest, the weather, how people were faring and so on.”
    “I see … What about this—Raven, you said her name is? Does she have children of her own?”
    Krysta hesitated. She truly had no idea what Raven did when she went off. “I don't know … she might. We've never talked of that.”
    Eahlswith patted Krysta's hand, sent a sharp look in Hawk's direction, and ushered her ladies out of the room. When they were alone, he sat down again slowly, without taking his eyes from Krysta. The loudest sound was her chewing of the husk, which she tried to make as quiet as possible before she gave up and stuffed it under the bedcovers. After a moment, he cleared his throat. “Well, then … that is … basically you're all right … which is wonderful really, a tremendous relief… and that stuff you're drinking, it helps?” He gestured to the cup she still held.
    She brushed away a few crumbs with her free hand and said, “It's very good and the queen has been very kind. If you won't mind my saying, you don't look entirelywell yourself. Perhaps Eahlswith could suggest something that would make you feel better.”
    Really, if he kept staring at her so oddly, she would think something truly was