Dream of Me/Believe in Me

them all the way through the thronged streets to the stronghold itself.
    People called out their good wishes as flowers rained down upon them. Children ran up to the horse to hand bouquets of posies to Krysta, who soon had a lap heaped with blossoms. She shone with joy, waving to all and bestowing a warm smile of thanks on each child.
    Hawk's pride in her knew no bounds, nor did his happiness. Yet even as he saw Krysta settled into his quarters, now theirs, and went off to receive Edvard's report of all that had occurred during their absence, a niggling sense of doubt teased at him. He had heard Edvard out and was seeking a few minutes to himself in the sauna before the source of his concern finally surfaced in his mind.
    Love had come to him when he had never expected to experience it. Love shining and glorious, giving meaning to life and even, he dared to think, understanding of God's purpose. Yet had it come so easily when all was said and done. That should have pleased him and perhaps it would have were it not for the harsh instruction of experience.
    Nothing he valued had ever come to him easily. For the land he loved, he had fought, bled, and come very close to dying many times over. For the woman he loved, he had needed patience and to kill an enemy, nothing more.
    Too easy.
    He shook his head. It was folly to think that. Life was uncertain and fraught with peril, yet he had Krysta safe and by his side. Was he becoming like an old man to fret over shadows?
    But there was one shadow and honesty forced him to admit it. A thin, ugly shadow cast by his half-sister. Daria had run his household for more years than he cared to remember. Now she would have to yield that authority tohis bride. A woman of ordinary temperament might well resent such change. Daria was likely to loathe it.
    He had fought Danes with more relish than he contemplated the action he must take and yet he was unwilling to put it off. Something Cymbra had said to him once in passing, having to do with difficulty establishing herself in her husband's household, encouraged him to settle the matter quickly. He rose from the sauna, doused himself with cold water, dressed, and went in search of Daria.
    He found her in the chapel. For a moment, entering that hallowed precinct of filtered light and scented air, he had the sudden perception that she had meant him to find her like that. Her head was bent, her hands clasped in reverent prayer. She looked the very image of a righteous woman.
    Daria gave no sign of knowing he was there yet he was certain that she did. His own senses were too keen to credit her unawareness. The thought drifted through his mind that he did her a disservice—that for all her unpleasantness perhaps Daria was truly devoted in her faith. He let go the notion as quickly as it came to him for it made no difference. It was her behavior that mattered and he had always in the private places of his heart thought her conduct distinctly unchristian.
    She stirred then as though awakening from a trance, blinked several times, and turned her head slowly. At first she appeared not to see him, and when she did, finally, she mustered an apologetic smile.
    “Brother, have I kept you waiting? I ask your pardon.”
    Hawk had little patience with pretense and he showed none now. “Ask pardon for being at prayer? I do not think so, lady. Had I been kept waiting too long, I would have left.”
    She frowned and he was glad to see it for he thought itthe first honest response from her since he had entered the chapel. Slowly she rose as though made stiff by her devotions. Always she had made a show of such things, nurturing ills she was too noble to disclose. He had no patience with that either.
    Yet he must find some, for he truly wanted to deal with her gently.
    “You will always have a home here.” It was not the most tactful way to put it but he wanted her to know that he had no thought of abandoning her. She was his half-sister, they were bound by blood; whatever his personal thoughts about her and whatever the changes that occurred in his life, he would provide for her.
    “Home,” she said and looked at him quizzically. He thought of his own pleasure in what that word represented and wondered if she felt anything approaching the same.
    He plunged on. “But the Lady Krysta is now my wife and she must have the ordering of the household. Therefore, you will turn over your keys to her.”
    Something moved behind Daria's eyes. He was too skilled