Murtagh's eyes fluttered open as the thick gray light of a cloudy morning seeped through the line of windows along the north wall of his room. He lay nestled in among the soft luxurious coverlets and fluffy down pillows of his bed, a haze enveloping his mind like the fog that hovered over the ground outside. He had slept deeply and was unable to recall when he had last slumbered so soundly. But the serenity he felt began to ebb. Creeping along the periphery of his memory, edging in slowly, blurry images of the previous night returned to him. He looked to either side of him but there was no trace of the mysterious woman. A smile of relief threatened to appear at the prospect that perhaps those images were from a dream, but the smile was aborted before it could be expressed. A sudden torrent of memories flooded him, too strong and intimate to originate from a mere harmless dream. A feverish flush filled his skin. A curse disguised as a breath escaped from him as he got out of bed, a dedication for the acquisition of yet another weighty burden upon his already beleaguered conscience.

"Do you wake up this ill-tempered every morning?"

Murtagh's heart lurched at the voice that instantly evaporated his morning stupor. His dark eyes darted anxiously to the far corner of the room from whence the voice had originated. The young woman of the night rose from a chair that was half hidden in its shadowy corner, her clothing loose and fluid over her alluring figure. His panic stricken face immediately gave way to a scowl as the second curse word of the morning shot out of his mouth. Despite the pleasures of the previous night, he did not trust her...rather, he did not trust himself in her presence.

"I'm sorry to have startled you, but you needn't fear me." Her tone was firm but gently reassuring; the way a horse charmer soothes an agitated horse.

Murtagh was in no mood to converse with her; he had used her and he was done. "You can go now."

"I will once we discuss our situation," she said evenly though it didn't quite mask her resentment from his insensitivity.

Murtagh chuckled the way one might when watching a terrible performance. "What for? Aren't you content enough to have bedded a Rider?" She made a motion to protest but he overrode her, and taking her by the wrist, for the hand would have been an intimate gesture, he led her to the door. "I thank you for your services but for convenience's sake, the best thing now is to forget it ever happened with--" he emphasized 'with' in a voice of authority and a raised admonishing hand, forbidding the young woman who threatened to interrupt, "--the added condition that we never cross paths again."

"You can't mean that." Her eyes glittered with indignation as his words burned painfully upon her dignity.

"I told you last night, before forcing yourself on me, that I have no time to meddle in the lives of girls who seek the thrill of a romantic fling."

Her eyes narrowed in fury. "Forced, Murtagh? I think we must have differing opinions of forced, because, as I recall, you were very obliging."

"Only because you made yourself impossible to ignore."

"And your prowess as a Dragon Rider wasn't enough to ward me off?"

The already smoldering coals of Murtagh's temper threatened to ignite into an inferno. "This is precisely the sort of thing I do not want to discuss!" he hissed, bringing his face inches from hers. "I do not have the time to bicker over such trivial matters!"

The young woman remained firm though Murtagh perceived the slightest of flinches. "Don't be so blasé, Murtagh. You and I both know that Galbatorix will not regard our… acquaintance as trivially as you seem to think it is. I think we are well agreed that such a memory as we share is not easily repressed or forgotten. Galbatorix will glean it from your mind before the week is out."

"No he won't."

"Really? Then it's only a fanciful rumor that your otherwise impenetrable mind was laid open at the King's last inspection."

"How do you know about that?" he asked fiercely.

"Think about it, Murtagh."

Instead of thinking, he yanked open his door, glowering at her, indicating that she was to exit. He regretted having indulged himself during the night.

"He broke through before and he'll certainly do it again unless you devise a new technique that will fool him completely."

"Ha. A new technique. And just who do you think you are to suggest such a thing?" His voice was slightly uneven from impatience and brewing suspician because what she was speaking about was not common knowledge.

She shook her head with a small smile. "Invade my consciousness and I'm sure you'll find some answers."

Murtagh started at the request but he quickly recovered. "No, now get out."

Her resolute countenance challenged him. "Do it."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

"Because why would I want to see inside the mind of a peevish fool?" His reply was sneering but he felt it a better response than what was really going through his mind. His most significant reason for not wishing to penetrate her mind was because of the precious value he ascribed to the privacy of one's mind. Repulsed by the idea that he would compromise his values, he ardently refused to act as unjustly as Galbatorix and the now deceased Twins. Resentment flooded him. What good were his values? They had not protected him from the King. "Very well," he said at last. "I'll grant you your fool's request." She flinched slightly as he entered.

Hollow. Muted images of dull memories. He tarried on the events that led her to work in the palace. Through networking, she landed a position in the palace, which she happily accepted. Murtagh lingered on that a moment as he recalled her words from the previous night: I serve Galbatorix…but he does not suit me. He tucked away this bit of information to contemplate later. And now…what did she do at the palace? She seemed to be a housekeeper of sorts, but…his eyes glanced over the woman quickly. Her demeanor was lowly enough but her clothing, her fragrance…she wasn't what she seemed. He moved on, deciding to contemplate that aspect about her at a different time as well. Out of a mere bit of curiosity, and in hopes for perhaps harassing her in the future, he discovered where she resided in the castle. It was a small and modest room located along a rather isolated and nondescript corridor.

Finding nothing more of interest, he withdrew and smirked at her, thinking she was the most idiotic and eccentric character he had ever met. He thought it a shame that a woman of such beauty lacked the intelligence that would compliment her. "Pleased?"

"Are you?"

"Not really because I hate to waste my time."

She smiled slyly, which had an unsettling affect on him. "You should be pleased."

"What for? I've never seen anything so dull." Perhaps if he insulted her enough, she'd go away.

"That is precisely the effect I hoped to achieve."

Murtagh gave her a calculating gaze, becoming more and more certain that the woman was mental and yet…there was something about her that prevented him from accepting her as a fool.

"What you just saw, Murtagh, was a sort of mirage. It's how I fortify my mind against those who intrude."

Murtagh could not stifle a laugh of cruel amusement. Surely she was making all this up, stalling so she didn't have to leave.

She smiled shrewdly and made her way to the still open door. Before crossing the threshold, she turned to him. "You can laugh now, but you won't be when Galbatorix finds out about us." Her eyes lingered on him, a playful and triumphant gleam sparkled in those precious jewel-like green eyes. Satisfied for having the last word, she quietly closed the door behind her.

Murtagh stared where she had stood, bewildered, before laughter seized him again, recounting her words and her searched mind. "Beautiful but a fool." He was certain this infatuated young woman was insane, but after a minute's reflection, he deemed it unlikely and the laughter ceased. The whole matter deeply unsettled him. He realized, with displeasure, that she was coaxing him, cajoling him, manipulating him, and drawing him closer to whatever mystery she guarded.

Marla the handmaid monitored her charge from the corner of her eye as her hand slowly brought the needle upward through the taut cloth of embroidery in her hand. Her lady was clearly not herself today. It was after the midday meal, and they were engaged in menial amusements. The young lady sat rigidly in her chair as her foot tapped in agitation upon the floor as if it were keeping time to music that couldn't be heard. Her needlework awaited attention in her limp hands, lying idly upon her lap. Her jade green eyes were clouded and distant. The handmaid took great pride in her keen abilities of observation and because of this talent, she was a rich source for gossip that was unfortunately more true than false. Her reputation for gossiping talents had found favor with King Galbatorix and it was the primary reason that Galbatorix took her on to be the lady's personal servant.

"There's clearly something on your conscience, my dear." Marla spoke casually and shifted her gaze from the work in her hands.

The young woman's thoughtful countenance quickly cleared and turned her bright, but shifty eyes, signaling deceit, to the maid. "Oh, it's nothing significant. I was just reflecting on the pattern I've chosen for my needlework."

There was a brief pause as the hand maid subtly shook her head in disbelief. "Funny how two years seem so short a time but it's enough to become well acquainted with another's habits."

The young woman smirked at her servant. "Is it really any wonder? You're with me more often than not." The young lady sighed but gave a defeated sort of smile. "I suppose I should give up trying to fool you."

"I don't know why you would want to fool me anyway. I'm the only companion you're allowed."

The young woman bit the lower inner rim of her lip, a nervous idiosyncrasy of hers. The young woman knew her maid was more than just a companion; she reported to Galbatorix. She was aware of the handmaid's vulture-like eyes upon. She hesitated slightly. "It makes for a bit of excitement and tension. Our lives are so dull, you know."

"Ah, believe me, deary, you shouldn't pine away for the acquaintances I've made here in the palace. Trivial, they are." Then, in a hushed tone and leaning towards the lady she added, "Besides, we've got all the tension and excitement we need living right among us."

The lady scrutinized her companion. "Marla, the King doesn't count. We hardly ever see him."

Marla agreed solemnly with a few slow nods of the head. "Certainly, but he's as unpredictable and violent as a volcano."

"You'd better mind what you say," the young woman cautioned, anxiety pooling in her stomach.

"Ah, who knows? He might like the comparison."

The two women shared a friendly smile as they returned to the work in their hands. Marla, however, was still suspicious of her ward. A small mischievous smile stretched the shallow wrinkles around her mouth, deepening the crevasses of age along the corners of her mouth; she was going to keep an extra close watch on her pretty little maiden. The more she reported to the King, the more she was paid.

The young maiden was unaware of her maid's plans for prying. Her mind was preoccupied with Murtagh and all the implications that concerned him and herself. Would she see him again that evening? Would he come find her? Timing was everything; she knew he couldn't be staying any longer than a week or so. She had to win enough of his trust if she was to discuss matters of great importance with him. And her mind trick was not the real issue to be discussed: it was the question of Murtagh's allegiance.

Late in the evening, Murtagh resigned himself to the solitude of his chambers after a day of infuriating practice and encounters with wide-eyed hopeful young females. It wasn't that he didn't like girls. He smiled. Oh yes, he had enjoyed the company of several ladies during his time outside the palace, and, of course, he did have a few flings with the girls in Uru'baen before his first flight from the royal city. Mindful of the past, he took great care to avoid public appearances.

He slumped into a plush armchair. His fingers kneaded the squashy padding of the armrests as his thoughts turned to finding a solution to his problems. None came, of course, because the woman of the previous night kept appearing before his mind's eye, something that had been occurring all day. Was it possible to erase a memory? He would have asked Galbatorix for surely he would know, but now he was no longer in a position to ask. He might be able to hide it for a time, but the King was always able to open his mind as if her were unrolling a scroll. He couldn't even begin to anticipate Galbatorix's reaction when, not if, he would learn of the affair. How long would be able to live like this under the eye of the King? He hoped that the King would show no interest in his love life…but he felt that would be unlikely.

The door to his room swung open slowly, riveting Murtagh's attention. Was it her again?

"Thorn has informed me that you have neglected to interact with him since arriving at the palace."

Murtagh's stomach convulsed as if a hand clamped it in a death grip. He rose and bowed in the direction of the door. "Sire."

The King did not enter but remained a menacing shadow just outside the threshold of Murtagh's room. He would have been imperceptible had it not been for his black eyes that glinted in the candlelight of his room, like pools of burning oil.

"What is your explanation for such insolence?" His voice was as black as coal.

"I was waiting for your summons. I wanted to be available. " He kept his head bowed but spoke firmly yet knowing he offered a terribly weak excuse even though it was part truth.

"A rider's best companion is his dragon. It is reprehensible to ignore a compatriot as valuable as Thorn," the King intoned with chilled civility that Murtagh was somewhat accustomed to. "However, I am flattered to hear of your eagerness to meet with me, though I find it odd for I am beyond displeased with you….I haven't a doubt that you are well aware of that." He paused before continuing. Still, he did not move and Murtagh felt the sweat gather upon the skin of his brow and back. "I did not summon you earlier for I would have slain you in my rage and that would have been most unfortunate indeed. In fact, I am still too upset to discuss the recent fiasco with Surda, but I come to you on behalf of Thorn…." Galbatorix's voice trailed off before asserting with scalding displeasure, "Your mind is barred to me."

"I beg your pardon, my lord, but you arrived without warning--"

Galbatorix raised his hand as a gesture for him to be silent. "Admirable reflexes, Murtagh," mused the King but he had said his name sourly. "But you ought to have an open enough mind to sense the approach and intentions of others as we have practiced time and time again."

"Yes, my lord."

Galbatorix smirked, reveling teeth that gleamed an orange-red in the dim light. He surveyed Murtagh a moment before departing silently from the door.

Murtagh sighed heavily, thankful that theKing did not pry into his mind. As he went to shut the door, he contacted Thorn.

You betrayed me, Murtagh accused.

You feel betrayed? Well, I feel abandoned," retorted Thorn with a growl, unappreciative of Murtagh's rude intrusion.

For good reason.

Oh? And what has happened between our arrival and this moment that has caused you to spurn me? queried Thorn crossly.

Nothing! I—I— I'm just tense. I need some space to myself.

Well that is of little wonder, chimed Thorn with the unpleasant ringing tone of sarcasm.

Murtagh remained silent for a moment as a small blob of fear began to painfully crowd his insides. Did Thorn know about last night? How so?

I don't think I need to remind you because I chided you about it on our return to Uru'baen. You disobeyed the King's orders; orders that he believed would've been easy for you.

Murtagh once again slumped into his chair. Who are you loyal to, Thorn? Me or Galbatorix? he asked moodily.

Murtagh sensed some surprise in Thorn as his dragon replied. You, of course…or rather, as much as is allowed at any rate.

Then why did you tattle to the King?

Thorn was affronted by the question and answered obnoxiously, Two reasons. One: I was concerned about you. Two: the King contacted me first.

Murtagh sighed with some disbelief. He didn't want to carry on the conversation anymore. It only fed that growing blob.

I'll have you know that I did not say a word about the mercy you granted Eragon and Saphira. I'll leave that for you to explain to Galbatorix since it wasn't any idea of mine and because you went against what I advised.

Thanks for being so thoughtful, muttered Murtagh. His temper began to smolder. He was always walking a fine line in his relationships.

Silence settled between them both for a moment.

You must have done something shamefully embarrassing since our arrival, observed Thorn with a snicker. Might I guess?

There's no need to. I'll inform you when the time is right, Murtagh snapped, startled at Thorn's acute perception of his turmoil.

Ah, so you have done something! Well, if you don't mind my saying so, this secret of yours is dividing us at a time when we should be united. You mustn't think that if I knew your secret it would divide us. It is your insistence on keeping this secret. It's creating a chasm between us and that is something neither one of us can afford.

Agreed, Murtagh concurred sadly after a moment of grim reflection. Thorn spoke truly and he missed their camaraderie. Thorn, please trust me on this. I'll share with you when I feel the time is right.

Thorn was a long time in answering. I'm not happy but I'll respect your wishes. I only wish that you'll respect mine once in a while.

Murtagh grimaced as Thorn withdrew from him. At length, he began to reconsider the mysterious young woman and how she seemed to have spirited him away from his problems during the night. He decided he would go to her but what he intended to do once he found her, he wasn't yet sure…apart from learning her name.

He sighed heavily; he had to resolve all this as quickly as possible.