Dream of Me/Believe in Me

shrugged, “I have no idea.” He looked directly at Hawk as he spoke, the picture of candor. Yet he was unusually pale.
    “Where is the Lady Daria?”
    Was it a trick of the light or did the priest flinch?
    “Again, lord, I have no idea. She is in chapel more than usual of late but not just now. May I suggest you seek her in her quarters?”
    Several moments longer Hawk surveyed the priest before he decided there was nothing more to be gotten. Abruptly, he walked out of the chapel.
    Daria was in her quarters. She was seated beside a window with a piece of embroidery in her lap. Why was it she always looked posed? Hawk pushed the thought aside and spoke directly.
    “I am seeking my wife. Have you seen her?”
    “The Lady Krysta?” Daria pondered for a moment, then shook her head. “No, I have not, but surely she will be in the hall soon. It is almost time for supper.”
    Well aware of that, Hawk took his leave as quickly as he had come. In the hall, he found Edvard questioning the servants. No one had seen Krysta since late afternoon. Hearing this, Hawk's mind was made up.
    “I want her found. Separate the servants into groups and start them searching.” As Edvard hastened to do as he was bade, Hawk summoned his lieutenants and gave the same orders for the garrison. With darkness rapidly approaching, dozens of torches were lit and handed out to the search teams.
    In the midst of all this Dragon returned, and hearing of what was happening, he immediately joined the search. At the hour when Hawkforte should have rung with laughter and song, there were only the quick tread of feet and low-voiced murmurs of concern that slowly darkened to something worse.
    H ER HANDS WERE BRUISED. SHE FELT THEM THROB -bing in the darkness. Her fingers were scraped and bleeding. Her legs ached and her heart beat painfully. Beyond exhaustion, Krysta sagged against the wall. For more hours than she knew, she had searched the chamber, feeling over every inch of stone trying to find something she could use as a weapon. All she had encountered was slick, damp rock and hopelessness.
    Chilled to the bone, she was shivering helplessly, and the strength of her mind that had carried her so far was beginning to crack. The darkness pressed in on all sides, unrelieved, unrelenting. Daria truly had buried her alive and soon she would return to finish the job. Without a weapon, Krysta would have little chance against her.
    Her face stung and with a start she realized that it was because of the hot tears trickling down her cold cheeks. So weary was she that she did not sob or in any way cry out, she simply wept silently and helplessly. Leaning againstthe wall, hugging herself, she thought again of the child asleep within her.
    “I'm so sorry,” she said brokenly. “I know I have to save us and I've tried so hard.”
    Her voice sounded very odd in the darkness, as though it came from some source other than herself. Yet she felt less alone for having spoken.
    “Daria will come back. She is mad and she means to kill us. I will fight her, even without a weapon, but we have little chance.”
    She pressed her hands to her flat belly and imagined she was touching her child, a small, smiling baby with hair the tawny shade of Hawk's and eyes as green as her own. A baby who would grow to be a sturdy toddler, racing about Hawkforte, learning at his father's side until one day he, too, would be a strong man and noble leader. There in the darkness, sorrow a bottomless hole within her, she imagined she could almost see him, not Hawk yet very like him, so young and yet confident, reaching out a strong arm even as he smiled at her with gentle reassurance.
    This baby who had little chance of coming into the light of the world, yet he seemed a man grown and so very real. As though she had called him into being.
    Dazed, she stared into the darkness. Her eyes were open, tears still flowing from them, yet there he stood like a bright, shimmering vapor in the unmistakable shape of the man she knew to be her son.
    “Falcon,” she murmured, and his smile deepened.
    A sob broke from her. She stretched out her arms, frantic to touch him just this once before eternal darkness closed over them both. If only her love was strong enough to withstand death, to give him the chance to live as he was surely meant to. If only …
    Yearning for her son, Krysta reached too far andstumbled. She went down hard on her knees, gasping in pain. When she looked up again, the vision