Chapter 3

It felt like forever that they were walking through palace hallways but it really only took minutes to arrive at the large double doors to the dining hall. As they approached, the guards swung the doors open so their progress was unimpeded. Myra held her head high though in truth she was terrified of what was going to happen to her.

"Ah, welcome my lady!" bellowed a voice from the head of the long table. Galbatorix was the only one sitting at the table. Murtagh steered her toward the king and they stopped a few feet away. Murtagh bowed, dropped Myra's hand, and turned to take his leave.

"No Murtagh, please join use for dinner," Galbatorix spoke quickly and sharply. It wasn't a request, it was an order.

"Yes my lord," Murtagh bowed again and took a seat on the other side of the table. Myra noted how uneasy Murtagh was acting, never taking his eyes from Galbatorix. Galbatorix motioned for one of the guards to seat Myra to his right-hand side.

"Of all those who opposed me in Alagaesia, I never thought that you would be one of them princess," Galbatorix said, and icy thread to his calm voice. Murtagh's eyes left Galbatorix for the first time only to land on Myra. Her bright green eyes were on the plate in front of her.

"You didn't think that you would remain unchallenged in this land for very long Galbatorix," she shot back, the use of his name without title showing a lack of respect for him. Galbatorix growled and slammed his silverware on the table.

"I am a king now, princess, and you'd do well to remember that!" he bellowed.

"You are an abomination of such a title!" she shouted back, "You are no king to these people. You are a tyrant on limited time here. The Varden will overthrow you and I'll be glad to see it for then I can return to my home and report the happy news!" Like a bolt of lightning Galbatorix's hand shot out and landed across her delicate face, splitting her lower lip.

"Your forked tongue will be silenced in my presence woman!" Myra's tongue gingerly touched her lip as Galbatorix wore a smug look on his face. Myra sat up straight and spit at Galbatorix, missing his face but nailing his dinner plate like a bull's eye. Murtagh's chin fell open and he just stared at the scene he'd just witnessed. Galbatorix wiped his mouth with his napkin as he signaled for a member of his personal guard to come forward. The guard pinned Myra's arms behind her back and lifted her to a standing position. Galbatorix's hand went to her lower stomach and paused there for a few moments. Struggling against the guard with all her might, Myra couldn't gain an inch of slack. Galbatorix pulled away and turned to Murtagh.

"Begin preparations for my marriage," Galbatorix announced, "We shall be wed in two days and upon consummation of our marriage, princess, you'll be carrying the heir to the throne of both Alagaesia and Heiwa!"

"No…" Myra whispered, "I will never marry you!" Galbatorix moved toward her and pushed her hair back from her ear.

"I know your customs, princess," he hissed, "You have no choice. Either agree to the marriage or be stoned to death by your own people." He stood and began to walk from the room.

"Murtagh, return her to her room and post additional guards by her doors and windows!" Galbatorix growled and was gone around a corner. The guard released her as Murtagh gently took her by the arm.

"Come, your highness," he said quietly, guiding her back to her room.

"What did you go and do that for, princess?" Murtagh asked Myra as soon as they'd arrived at her room, spitting out the last word as if it were a bit of food not to his liking. "You do realize that you've just made things much more difficult for yourself?"

"And if you were in my position, you would lie down and allow yourself to be kicked in the ribs?" she retorted.

He frowned and turned to leave the room.

"Murtagh…" Myra said, quietly. He paused and turned his head slightly to the side to indicate he was listening.

"Please don't tell anyone of who I am," she requested. He turned to see her looking at the floor, her eyes filled with tears, though she didn't allow any to fall. He raised an eyebrow.

"Why, you'll have a worse time of it if people don't know who you are. They'll think you married the king on your own accord," Murtagh replied with no emotion in his voice.

"No one was to know I was here. I had a mission… I was to be undetected…" her voice trailed. Murtagh grunted and continued on his way. As he left the room, Myra heard the lock click on the door. She collapsed into the chair at a vanity in the room and stared at her reflection. Her already pale skin had gone to the color of moonlight.

'How am I going to get myself out of this predicament?' she thought as the flickering candle light slowly began to dim.

Murtagh posted the soldiers at Myra's door as was commanded of him but then continued to the throne room. He knocked and was beckoned to enter. He bowed.

"My lord, if I may make a request for the princess," Murtagh said, his eyes on the floor. He hoped he had caught the king in a good mood.

"And why should I provide her with anything?" Galbatorix spat his response.

"Perhaps a show of kindness will make her more likely to consent to your union," Murtagh tried.

"What is this request?"

"My lord, I know that you don't find women to be of much use beyond physical pleasure and as such there are none working in the castle," he paused, glancing at the king who was writing on a scroll only listening to Murtagh. "The princess is probably used to having a hand maiden to help dress and other feminine things. The request I have is that we assign a woman to be her servant."

"And where might we find one of those. You know very well that I don't allow women into my castle unless there is good reason," Galbatorix responded almost absently.

"My lord, there is a woman being held in the dungeon. Perhaps she could earn her keep by watching after the princess' needs," Murtagh almost held his breath while Galbatorix deliberated.

"Very well… and have a dress maker fit her with proper attire. Trousers are not becoming for a princess who will be queen. Oh and be sure to inform me if she causes any trouble." Galbartoix waved Murtagh away with his quill and continued with his work. Murtagh bowed and made his way to the dungeons.

It took only moments for his to arrive where Katrina was being held. He held up his lamp in the pitch black shadows of the dungeon.

"Katrina, I've come to hold you to your word." A form materialized out of the blackness. She was not much more than a skeleton.

"I am ready," she said softly.

He led her through the halls of the castle to a room that had adjoined Myra's. It was much smaller and only simply decorated as compared to Myra's room, but it too had its own bathroom.

"Bathe yourself and look presentable. You'll find suitable clothing in the bureau. I'll return in an hour to take you to your assignment," Murtagh spoke quickly and took his leave, locking Katrina in her room.

"Lord Murtagh, the dress maker has arrived. He is waiting for you in the entrance hall," a young soldier reported then returned to his duties of patrolling a nearby corridor. Murtagh met the man in the hall and led him quickly to Myra's room.

'I feel as if I'm nothing more than a courier of people,' Murtagh thought to himself with disgust, 'That's useful.'

"Wait here," he grumbled to the dress maker and he unlocked the next door in the corridor. He poked his head through the now open door and as he withdrew his head, a young woman stepped out behind him. Murtagh unlocked Myra's room and swung the door open. She had fallen asleep at her vanity garbed in a robe. The gown she wore earlier like in a heap at the foot of the bed. Murtagh cleared his throat loudly and Myra started. Her eyes blinked several times, attempting to chase away the sleep that plagued them. She pulled her robe tighter around her, the expression on her face clearly puzzled.

"This is Katrina," Murtagh said, indicating the girl standing slightly behind him, "Our king thought it prudent to assign a hand maiden to assist you."

"I don't need-" Myra began but Murtagh cut her off mid-sentence.

"And this is the dress maker," he said loudly, "he is going to make a wardrobe fit for a queen-in-waiting. Cooperate with him or I'll need to inform the king."

Murtagh left the room and the dress maker set about measuring Myra. He was a short man with a round figure and bald head, save for a few little tufts of white encircling the crown. He had asked about fabrics and colors that she favored. His colors were limited by the king's direction, but outside of that she could have what she'd wanted. She agreed to a few simple designs with minimal embellishment, mostly in deep green, navy blue, or burgundy with a few black. She'd refused any of the other colors deemed "acceptable" by their king, which included oranges and a gaudy gold color, and of course bright red.

"My lady, the king has also asked me to make a gown for your union," the dress maker spoke quietly, "I'll do what I can to keep the gown to your liking, but his majesty has the last say."

Myra nodded.

"Thank you."

He bowed and turned to the door.

"What's your name?" Myra asked quietly.

"I am Arthur, my lady," he replied with a bow. He knocked on the door and the soldiers showed him out.

Continued in Chapter 4...