Dream of Me/Believe in Me

that, but there were rumors—whispers really coming from wild-eyed Irish monks—of an even vaster land yet farther to the west, beyond the setting sun, a land they said had no end.
    A sensible man could take off if he liked, but a leader didn't have that luxury. He had to do what was best forall. And that, Wolf decided, was to stop this problem with his bride before it could go any further.
    “She's just settling in,” he murmured. “That's all it is.”
    Dragon laughed. “Who are you trying to convince, me or yourself?”
    Wolf's only answer was a grunt. He strode off in the direction he'd last seen Cymbra, only to discover that she was nowhere to be found.
    “I have no idea, my lord,” Marta said with cold pleasure when Wolf finally broke down and asked her if she knew where his wife had gone. Emboldened by his obvious annoyance, she added, “If you don't mind my saying, the Lady Cymbra seems a very headstrong individual, perhaps the result of an overly privileged upbringing.”
    Wolf did not appreciate hearing any criticism of the woman whose behavior, after all, reflected most directly on him. But he had to admit, if only to himself, that Marta might have a point. Cymbra's brother appeared to have given her virtually free rein to live as she pleased. Perhaps it wasn't really her fault that she didn't defer as she properly should, but she would have to learn. And damn fast.
    He hurried to the stables, determined to find his wayward wife.
    L OOK, CYMBRA SAID. HOREHOUND. SHE EASED THE small plant from the earth, keeping its roots intact, and nestled it in the palm of her hand. “I had no idea I'd find it here. It's wonderful for coughs and inflammations of the lung.” Smiling, she carefully tucked it away in her sack along with the several dozen other plants, mosses, and lichens she had already found.
    “It's amazing how much you know,” Brita said shyly. After several hours in Cymbra's company, helping herfind and collect herbs, the slave had lost some of her reticence. “My mother had a little skill at healing, but nothing compared to what you know. How ever did you learn so much?”
    Cymbra hesitated. As always when speaking of such things, she chose her words with care. “I became interested in healing when I was a child. My brother was very kind and arranged teachers for me.”
    “You were fortunate. I, too, had a brother….” Brita looked away quickly.
    Pain rose in Cymbra, the pain of loss, of fear, of anguish almost too great to be borne. She forced herself to breathe slowly and steadily, not fighting it for she knew by hard experience that there was no point, but separating herself from it, erecting a shield that allowed her to acknowledge the pain without being crushed by it.
    In the midst of that pain, she had a fleeting thought of the message Wolf must surely send soon, if he had not already, informing her brother of her whereabouts. She was torn, wanting to reassure Hawk of her welfare and having him see her thus, yet dreading the confrontation to come between husband and brother. A shiver moved down her spine even as she turned away from her own anguish to soothe Brita's.
    “I'm so sorry.”
    The gentle touch of her hand on Brita's startled the girl. They knelt together on the mossy hillside beyond the keep. Around them, the day glittered, bright with sunlight, soft with the balmy breeze of summer. Brita blinked hard and rubbed a hand across her cheeks. “It was a long time ago now.”
    “How long?”
    “I was taken in my twelfth year.” As though a dam had broken and released its torrent, she could no longer avoid speaking of what had happened to her. “My family lived near the coast of Ireland, beside a place we call theMountains of the Morne. They aren't as big as the mountains here, not at all, but we thought of them as mountains all the same.”
    Her eyes filled with memories both sweet and savage. “We'd heard rumors about the Norsemen but none of us had ever seen them until they came of a sudden just two days after Easter. The men fought but there was nothing anyone could do.”
    A heart-wrenching sigh escaped her. “I don't even know if any of my family survived. The last I saw was the smoke rising from our burning homes. I was taken many days to a large town and put in a pen there with many other captives, then sold. Eventually, I was brought here. That was five years ago.”
    She paused and looked at Cymbra. “There have been times when I thought of dying but our