Dream of Me/Believe in Me

woman, and an enemy at that.
    “No.”
    “Good.” She turned and gestured to an older woman who remained outside the cell. The woman's dried-apple face was creased with fear. Her eyes never left her mistress as she handed over the pile of blankets she held.
    Cymbra said a soft word to her and turned back to the cell. She began to give him one of the blankets, realized his hands were still tied, and frowned. “You cannot remain like that.”
    He waited, not moving, curious to see what she would do. After a moment, she put down the blankets, removed a small knife from a sheath at her waist, and approached him. “Please,” she said, gesturing to the ropes that bound his wrists.
    He held out his hands to her. She looked at them,then up at him very quickly before returning her gaze to the ropes. The knife was only middling sharp, or perhaps he had to make allowance for her lack of strength. She had to saw for several minutes before the ropes finally parted.
    They stood almost touching, his hands free, her knife easily within his reach. She looked up again, their gazes locking and he saw, quite clearly, that she knew her own vulnerability. Understood it full well, yet was trusting him to keep his promise not to harm her.
    “Thank you,” he said quietly. Rubbing his wrists, he took a step back.
    She nodded and, with her eyes averted, handed him a blanket. But she didn't stop there. Instead of leaving the rest for him to distribute, she handed one to each of his men after first cutting through his bonds. She did so silently, and he saw that she did not look directly at any of them, but her simple act of aiding—and thereby acknowledging—each man was one more surprise.
    That done, she turned back to the old woman, who had used the time to fetch a basket and ewer. These too she handed through the open cell door under the watchful gaze of the guards. Cymbra set them down near Wolf, then straightened. Her hands were folded in front of her. He wondered if she did that to keep them from shaking.
    “I will return in the morning,” she said, waiting until he acknowledged this with a nod. The moment she stepped back outside the cell, the guards leaped forward and slammed the door.
    The clang of the metal bar falling back into place still echoed off the stone walls as Cymbra said, “Sir Derward, I would not care to learn that these men have been harmed during the night. I would be most displeased. Do you understand?”
    The knight took a breath, fists clenched at his sides. “Aye, milady.”
    Rooster-brained he was but still not so great a fool as to tempt himself beyond endurance. Scarcely had the Lady Cymbra vanished up the steps than Sir Derward did the same. He left only a pair of guards to slump back against the wall, eyeing their prisoners glumly.
    No one moved in the cell until, after several moments, Wolf gestured to the basket. “We may as well eat.”
    The men gathered around, finding bread still warm from the ovens, rounds of golden cheese, plump apples, and several roasted hens. Better yet, the ewer held good ale, plenty for all of them.
    “A feast,” exclaimed Magnus, the youngest of the group. He helped himself to a crisp-skinned leg and sat back with a sigh of pure contentment. With his mouth full, he said, “This is amazing, isn't it? Did you
see
her?”
    Swallowing a hunk of cheese, one-eyed Olaf grinned. “That's not a woman. That's a goddess come down to earth.”
    That did it. Everyone had to comment then.
    “Those eyes …”
    “That hair …”
    “That mouth …”
    “That body—”
    Silence suddenly descended and quick glances were cast at Wolf. He tore off a piece of bread and shrugged. “We go as planned.”
    No one disagreed but he saw the flickering looks that passed man to man, the silent thought expressed that perhaps the Lady Cymbra—as kind as she was beautiful— did not deserve the fate the Wolf intended for her. It made no difference. His will would be done.
    His will. What was that now? He had come wanting vengeance, believing it fully deserved. Now …
    Now he wasn't sure. She was vastly different fromanything he had expected. She surprised him. She made him feel uncertain. No one had made him feel like that in a very long time. He didn't care for the experience.
    He had promised not to harm her.
    Aye, that was a complication. Of course, the lady's idea of what was harm could be very different from his own. He'd just have to persuade her to see things his way.
    Sharp teeth