Dream of Me/Believe in Me (65 page)

Y
OU REMAKING TOO MUCH OF IT, RAVEN
scolded. “It was only a story, nothing more. Why take it so to heart?” Krysta looked away from her grim study of the sea. Dragon was gone on the morning tide but his words still echoed in her mind. She had slept poorly, if at all, and now her head throbbed so much that even the sound of her voice was painful. “You heard the tale. Do you honestly believe he told it just by chance?”

“Why, yes, that's just what I think. It was a story, nothing more.”

“Before he told it, he spoke of tricksters and looked right at me.”

Raven sighed and fluttered her thin arms. She settled on the window seat beside Krysta. “One has naught to do with the other. He has no idea—”

“He could have heard something. Indeed, how could he not? Once Father died, Sven was eager enough to tell all and sundry before he discovered I had value to the jarl of Sciringesheal. Only then did he still his tongue, but how am I to know the damage was not done?”

Raven reached out a thin hand and laid it over Krysta's. Gently, she said, “You are here, are you not? Think you the jarl of Sciringesheal would send a tainted woman to bind up peace?”

“I think he would send the Norns themselves, if he thought it would suit his purpose.”

Raven cackled. “Fierce Harpies of the battlefield who decide who lives or dies probably would not serve well in this case.” She looked at Krysta fondly. “Better to send a lovely young maiden to gentle a warrior's heart.”

“Well and good, but I tell you, Lord Dragon knows. Or at least he suspects. Why then would he not tell the Hawk?”

“Tell him what? A tale whispered by your dullard of a half-brother? If Lord Sven declares the sky to be blue, a wise man sticks his head out of his lodge to check. Everyone knows this. The Dragon is no fool, far from it.”

“He would not have to know Sven said it, only that it
was
said. You know how tales spread.”

“I know you have become a worrier where you were never one before.” Raven peered at her closely. “What accounts for that?”

“I know not what I have become or why,” Krysta murmured. “I only know I am not myself any longer. Something is happening to me. I would stop it if I could but I seem to have no power over it.”

Raven clucked in distress but sought to reassure. “How not yourself? You are the same person you were when you left Vestfold, the same you have always been.”

“No, I am not. I feel a stranger in my own skin. I scarcely recognize myself.” Outside, beyond the window, tiny wavelets lapped against the beach. The air was still and heavy with hardly a breath of wind. Like the stillness within her … the waiting.

“You are in a strange place,” Raven said. “Of course you feel different.”

Krysta hesitated. “It's not the place. Whatever I'm doing, waking up, eating, listening to Edvard, whatever, Hawk is always in my mind.”

“He is?” Raven looked surprised. “Why?”

“He is to be my husband, surely that is reason enough to think of him?”

“I suppose so, but how much is there to think about? After all, he is only a man.”

“Only?” Krysta laughed faintly. “I wish I could see him that way.”

Raven clucked and busied herself smoothing her gown. Finally, she said, “I should have been prepared for this. It was so with your mother.”

“It was?” Krysta was surprised. Her mother was spoken of so rarely that she had little sense of her. “I know she wanted Father to love her and he could not. …”

“He was a good man but his heart was given to duty. There was no room left for love.”

“Yet she loved him.”

“She could not help herself. I don't pretend to understand it. Some say love is a weakness, some call it a fever in the blood. Don't ask me, I have no experience with it. But I do know your mother had great strength, as do you, yet she could not resist love when it came to her.”

“But I am not in love,” Krysta protested. “I scarcely know the man.”

Yet even as she spoke she remembered the kiss they had shared in the stable and her instant, irresistible sense that she recognized him in some way she could not understand. Perhaps knowing did not take so very long, not really. Perhaps it happened in the spirit and the heart while the mind remained all unawares.

“I am not in love.” It was a wishful claim, nothing more.

“Did you not expect this?” Raven countered. “Did you think to make him love you without loving him in turn?”

“I thought he would love me
first
, then would I be safe to love him.”

“There is no safety in love. You want to be safe? Go find a cave and hide in it. But to live, truly live, you must not conceal yourself. Every flight—whether of wing or of heart—is risk.”

“Risk that killed my mother.”

Raven stiffened. “Never say that! Never have I said she died.”

“She walked into the sea.” The words nearly choked her yet Krysta was compelled to say them for they were as stones that had weighed her down far too long.

“She
was called
into the sea,” Raven protested. “That is entirely different.”

“So you have always said. What am I to believe then? That she became a creature such as Dragon spoke of or Sven thought to prattle about? Or that she was a woman as I am a woman, and that life became more than she could bear? So much so that not even her own child's arms could hold her?”

“She loved you! And wanted to stay with you.”

“Then
why
didn't she? How could she leave me?” A glistening drop appeared on Krysta's hand. Another followed. She stared, surprised, until she felt the dampness of her cheeks and knew she was crying. Never had she spoken of such things, rarely had she ever even allowed herself to think about them. But they were out now, raw and ugly, beyond recall.

Her chest hurt yet she forced herself to speak. “I'm sorry, you did not deserve this. I know you have always done your best for me, you and Thorgold both.”

“We did as your mother wished, as she would have done had she been able to remain with you.” Gently, Raven touched Krysta's cheek, catching the tears. “You share your mother's gift, to call those of us from the other world into this one. But always have I told you, there is
another side to that gift.
You
can be called into the other world. That is what happened to your mother when her unhappiness in this world became too much for her to bear.”

Krysta sighed deeply. For just a moment, she wished to hide herself against Raven as she had so many times when very young, be covered by the black wing of her gown, and remain still and safe. Then had Raven called her fondly “my little chick” and they had both laughed over that. But she was a child no longer. Raven was right, every flight brought risk, yet the wide world beckoned still.

“Go and find him,” Raven said softly. “He is not a man of deception. If it is too soon to know what is in his heart, see what is in his eyes.”

Krysta nodded. She remained a moment longer close to Raven, gazing out at the sea. Then she gathered up her courage and her dreams, and went.

H
AWK WATCHED HER COMING TO HIM ACROSS THE
training field. With the day so still, he had tied a band around his forehead to catch the sweat that would otherwise sting his eyes. Shirtless, wearing only breeches, he lowered his sword and waved off the lieutenant with whom he had been sparring.

She looked much more at ease than she had the evening before, but he still sensed a strain in her. Her usually winsome smile seemed forced. All the same, he appreciated the quick, all-encompassing glance she swept him, followed by the darkening of her cheeks. That she was aware of him as a man was good.

“I hope you don't mind,” she said, and her voice was soft as the breeze that just then began to ruffle the tops of the trees. “The day is so warm, I thought you would like a drink.” She turned slightly, gesturing to the servants who
followed her. Two young girls stepped forward with horn goblets and skins glistening with droplets of cool water drawn from deep wells.

Hawk sheathed his sword. His eyes never left Krysta as he smiled in turn. “This is most welcome. Thank you for it.”

Her flush deepened. Such a simple gesture, bringing cold water to laboring men, but it was the first domestic task she had performed at Hawkforte. Cautious yet of her status, wary of Daria, she had treaded lightly. Yet when she asked the servants to come with her and told them what was needed, they had sprung to obey with smiles that suggested she might not have so difficult a time to win them over as she had feared. Their master, however, was another matter.

Hesitantly, she met his gaze. As always, the light blue clarity of his eyes startled her. She felt as though she were staring into the heights of the sky at the peak of day. Her hands shook slightly as she filled a drinking horn and gave it to him. She watched with helpless fascination as he tipped his head back and drank, the powerful muscles of his throat working. With a smile, he returned the horn to her.

“If you wouldn't mind …”

She filled it again quickly, happy to have pleased him. She also felt relieved, for she saw no hint that her earlier worry had any foundation. Perhaps Raven was right and the Lord Dragon had merely spun a tale plucked by chance from the sea of his imagination.

The serving girls moved on to fill horns for the men. Hawk and Krysta were left alone. She was too self-conscious to speak, he too distracted. The breeze riffled her hair, pulling curls from the loose braid hanging down her back. Her brow was sun kissed. Freckles marched across her nose. Her mouth was very full, soft, and inviting. Too easily, he remembered how it had felt beneath his own.

“Dragon said he would take messages from you back with him. Did you speak with him?”

She shook her head. “It was kind of him to offer but I truly had nothing to say.”

He nodded, unsurprised. Already he knew she and her half-brother were not close. From what Dragon had told him of Sven, he was glad of it.

“You seem to be settling in well. If Daria disturbs you, tell me.”

Krysta was caught by surprise and uncertain how to respond. His willingness to help her with Daria warmed her, yet she was reluctant to involve him in family strife. “Thank you,” she murmured noncommittally.

Silence drew out between them again. Hawk broke it. “How do you think it's going?”

“How what is going?”

“Getting to know each other.” He made it sound like a task to be gotten through.

“Oh, that. I suppose it's going well enough.”

He looked relieved to hear it. “I think so, too. I know you like to swim, don't eat meat, can read, and like hair ribbons.”

“How do you know that last part?”

“Thorgold told me. I've been meaning to get some for you. What have you learned?”

“Well, I don't know exactly…. You read, you value peace, you are a strong leader … you think getting to know each other is easier than it really is.”

The words were out before she could stop them. Krysta groaned, stung by her own candor.

“I … what?”

“Your pardon, lord. I should not be so blunt.”

“No, that's all right. I prefer honesty to deception.” Yet he spoke coolly, making her think she was not the only one stinging.

“I only meant that perhaps men are so unaccustomed
to knowing women that even a little knowledge seems like a lot.”

She had a point. He did think he knew her well on only short acquaintance. But in truth, he seemed to have learned more about her than she had about him.

“I read,” he said. “So much everyone here knows. I value peace. That, too, is obvious as it is the very foundation of our betrothal. I am a strong leader. True enough, but I could chalk that up to simple flattery. So tell me, lady, what else have you learned of me?”

Krysta was silent for a long moment. She knew he issued a challenge to her and she was torn whether to accept. To do so would be to bare at least a portion of her soul, were he astute enough to realize it. Yet pride drove her to make her point.

Slowly, she said, “You have a deep, rich laugh that seems to startle people, as though they were not used to hearing it so often. I wonder if it startles you, too. You like to skip rocks and are good at it. You are careful of children and do not wish to frighten them. You are not ruled by emotion. You did not like it when you thought me a servant yet desired me. You fought against that just as you fought against your anger when you discovered how I had tricked you. You drink only moderately, again I think because you do not like to lose control. You came of age in a time of brutal chaos, and as a result, order is very important to you. You love this land and these people with fierce strength. You would die for them and think the price worth paying. When you are tired, a tiny pulse beats above your right eye. Shall I go on?”

“No need, my lady,” Hawk said quickly. “I am humbled.” In truth, he was embarrassed and at the same time obscurely pleased. Never had he thought anyone could notice so much about him. It made him wonder what else he had inadvertently revealed.

He was looking at her, wondering simultaneously exactly
how many freckles she had and whether he should invite her to go riding again, when a sudden gust of wind distracted him. He glanced up, his eyes narrowing. The sky looked little different than it had a few hours before, white with high clouds, but he felt a sense of foreboding. He went very still, breathing slowly and deeply. The air smelled ripe and heavy. The morning had been so still, hardly a breath of air, then the sudden breeze, now a gust, followed soon by another, carrying that strange, torpid smell he'd encountered only once before.

Fate had called him to be a leader and a warrior, but he was a sailor to the bone. He knew the ways of wind and water, knew the sudden turning of the weather, knew by smell and touch and simple instinct what lay over the horizon.

“I need to speak with Edvard,” he said. “Come with me.”

T
HE HARVEST IS GOING WELL, MY LORD, THE STEW
-ard said. He appeared puzzled to be summoned at such an hour when normally the Hawk was occupied with other matters, but, as always, he had his facts and figures ready to hand. “I estimate half the oat and barley crops have been brought in, as well as most of the apples. Work is proceeding smoothly. We should be finished by the end of the week.”