Dream of Me/Believe in Me

brother.
    A brother who was still bound and determined to carry out the Wolf's orders. Cymbra just managed to dodge aside when a grim-faced Dragon bore down on her. He stood, glowering at her like an enraged thunder god who, rather absurdly, was trying to be discreet.
    “Cymbra, come with me now,” he hissed from between clenched teeth.
    She shook her head and edged farther away, staying beside the wall. Short of drawing everyone's attention to them, there was little he could do.
    “Wolf!”
    Apparently, Dragon didn't have as many qualms about drawing attention as she'd hoped. He strode right into the middle of the hall, faced his brother, and said in a loud, clear voice, “Your wife is here.”
    All eyes swiveled in her direction. But the only ones she cared about were silver gray and lit by fire.
    Slowly, he rose. Slowly, he came to where she was standing, wishing for all the world that she could dissolve right into the wall. That being unlikely, she straightened her shoulders and mustered a smile.
    “There seems to have been a misunderstanding, my lord. I don't think this is a good day to pick flowers.”
    His gaze raked over her. “Yes, I'd say there's been a misunderstanding. Let me correct it.
I
want you to go pick flowers.”
    “I think there will be better days to pick flowers whereas—”
    “Do not argue with me.” If he had spoken harshly, she might have been able to resist him. But his tone was soft, for her ears alone, with such gentleness as to bring tears to her eyes.
    She blinked them back fiercely and blurted the fear that drove her, fear of what he might believe, what he might truly think of her. “I am not a weakling!”
    “I never said you were. But you are—” He hesitated, uncertain.
    Dragon caught his eye. “She feels the pain of others. That Irish girl calls it a gift.”
    Wolf's gaze locked on his wife, his own impenetrable. He appeared neither shocked nor surprised, merely curious. But then why should it be other when he knew her so well? “Is this true?”
    “Yes, but it doesn't make me any less strong. I can still do all the things your wife should be able to do.”
    His composure broke. He stared at her dumb-founded.
“That's
what you're worried about? That you would somehow disappoint me?”
    “How can I not if I am too weak and craven to stand at your side? What kind of wife is that for a jarl to have? People will say you made a mistake to wed me. Perhaps you will say it.”
    They continued to stare at each other for several moments. Abruptly Cymbra gasped and lashed out, striking Wolf on the chest. “Don't you dare laugh at me!”
    “I'm not … All right, I was. I'm sorry. It's just that how any woman could think … after last night.”
    Abruptly aware of their avid audience, Wolf caught himself. He cleared his throat and said loudly, “The Lady Cymbra, my wife, has requested to witness this judging. As I know her to be a woman of courage and strength, I agree.”
    Beneath the approving comments of the assembly, he murmured to Dragon, “At the first sign of trouble, get her
out
of here.”
    Grim-faced, locked in their mutual determination to do right by one stubborn female, the Hakonson brothers took their places at the high table. Dragon held out the chair beside Wolf's for his sister-in-law. He positioned himself right behind her, prepared to carry out his jarl's orders with dispatch.
    Cymbra sat down gladly, afraid her legs would no longer hold her. She could scarcely believe what she had done or how Wolf had reacted. Truly, he was the most princely of men, kind, thoughtful, understanding—
    Ruthless. She bit back a gasp as the prisoners were led into the hall. There were five in all, large men and very fit, or at least they had been. Their arms were drawn behind them and chained to wooden staffs that ran across their backs. They were hobbled over, dirty, bruised, and cut, and showing clear evidence of having been dragged. Their mouths were cracked and parched, their eyes frantic.
    They were men who teetered on the very edge of death and knew it.
    Devastation. Burning rubble. Bodies thrown about, some in pieces. Women spread-eagle on the ground, raped, killed. Children—
    She had seen. She remembered. And she kept silent, stifling the impulse to show kindness even in the face of evil.
    Wolf held up a hand. The assembly which had been yelling curses at the killers, became silent.
    Into that stillness, his voice cut deep and hard. “You fell upon the