3 years, 9 months, 4 days later

"So I don't think it should be a problem," said Nasuada from the mirror. "As long as they continue to answer to you."

"Yeah, that's what I thought," said Murtagh, one elbow propped on his desk. The large room he shared with Thorn had turned into a workspace as well as sleeping quarters. "Only problem is, what happens if the guilds get too powerful? They won't listen to me forever." He rested his chin on his hand, reflected. "I wouldn't."

Nasuada shrugged. "We'll fix that problem when it happens," she said. "If it happens. Besides, I don't think you need to worry much. You're a Rider, and you know the Word. They won't challenge you."

"Galbatorix was a Rider who knew the Word, and look what happened to him."

Nasuada's eyes half-closed and her jaw set as she considered. "Yes, but you're not a tyrannical despot. You're an archagent whose actions are sanctioned by the queen."

Murtagh looked down at the map on his desk, drew small circles with his finger around Ilirea. "S'not really the point though, is it?"

Nasuada tapped her fingernails on the arms of her chair, then shrugged. "Whatever. There's no point worrying about it unless it actually threatens to happen." She turned her gaze on him, suddenly sharp. "Which it isn't, right?"

"Not that I'm aware of, no." Actually, after the initial outrage, the magicians had adapted to the new restrictions fairly quickly and without little fuss. He supposed it didn't take people long to forget what freedoms they'd lost.

"Well, good." Nasuada sighed, rubbing her temple with her fingers. "God, I'd hate to deal with another uprising."

Yeah. Murtagh didn't really want to handle another one either.

"Is that everything, then?"

"Yes. Well…" Nasuada looked away, biting her lip and running a finger up the arm of her chair. "Actually, there's something I need to tell you. It's – well, it's pretty important."

"Okay." Murtagh shifted his chair closer, apprehensive about her tone, if not her words. "What is it?"

She took a deep breath, looked him right in the eyes. "I'm – I'm engaged," she said, forcing the word out.

Everything went blank.

Blank and far away.

"To – to be married?"

Looking down, she nodded. "I thought it only fair that you should know. I owe you my honesty, Murtagh. And I didn't think you'd appreciate hearing it from someone else – or me beating around the bush."

"Uhm." No. No, she was right. Much better that he hear it like this, from her, all in one shot. A clean blow.

Thorn's presence in his mind, never gone, was suddenly much closer and stronger.

"Who is he?" Murtagh heard himself say, his voice fuzzy and distant in his ears.

Nasuada shrugged. "An earl from Surda. He's related to Orrin, his mother was Orrin's first cousin. It's – it's a good match."

There was nothing in her face, her voice, that suggested enthusiasm or happiness or anything. He knew she wasn't cruel enough to gloat in front of him, but all the same… "Do you love him?"

Nasuada looked at him sadly. "What answer can I give you that will make you happy?"

She was right. Again.

Murtagh leaned back in his seat, tried to twirl a feather pen through his fingers and realized his hands were shaking. Part of him supposed he should say something, but nothing really came to mind.

"Murtagh?" Nasuada's face in the mirror was worried, of all things. "Are – are you all right? Should I not have told you this?"

"I'm fine," he said automatically.

"No, you're not…Oh God, I shouldn't have told you. I'm sorry."

"No, you should have. I would have felt…betrayed if you hadn't."

"Really?"

"Yeah. This way…I know you value me enough to tell me face to face."

"Okay…" She didn't look sure, but let the subject drop.

Both of them sat in silence, and then Nasuada exhaled and tapped her palms against the arms of her chair. "Well, I – I have to be going. Until next time, Murtagh."

" 'Kay."

"And – I'm sorry."

"S'all right. S'your duty as queen."

"All the same…"

"Don't worry about it." She was about to end the spell when Murtagh blurted out, "Wait!"

Nasuada turned back to him, eyes wide, lips parted. "What?"

"When – when's the wedding?"

She bit her lip, considered. "Half a year, maybe….Look, I really do have to go."

"Yeah. Yeah, go ahead."

"Bye, Murtagh." And then the mirror went completely blank.

Oh, Murtagh… Thorn, out hunting, was already airborne. Do you want me back?

I…I don't know.

I'm coming, okay?

Okay.

Murtagh let the pen fall from his fingers, but other than that didn't move from his chair. There was a horrible sort of blank emptiness to his mind, an open space in which a single thought could reverberate freely…

A rush of wind announced Thorn's return as the dragon lowered himself onto the great stone slab next to the house. Wings folded, he lowered his head and ducked through the open wall and into the room. He curled up behind Murtagh, head resting on the floor next to his chair. How are you?

I'm not really sure.

Gently, Thorn began to pick through his mind, trying to sort out the tangled threads of emotions and thoughts. You're stunned, mostly.

Yeah, that sounds about right.

And a little hurt.

Mm.

More than a little?

I… Murtagh covered his face in one hand, wrapped his other arm around his stomach. F—k, Thorn, I just don't know!

Thorn crooned deep in his throat, raised his head to next to Murtagh's. Biting back something that might have been a sob, Murtagh circled an arm under Thorn's jaw, turned his face against Thorn's cheek where the scales were small and almost papery against his skin. Thorn hummed again and leaned into the touch. He smelled of musk and smoke and the outdoors and something else that was definitely dragon.

I'm sorry, he said. I know it doesn't help, but…I'm sorry all the same.

No, Thorn, it does, I just…Murtagh exhaled, closed his eyes tighter. I just don't know. That's how I feel. Like I don't know. Like nothing's certain.

Thorn's throat was vibrating with his humming, and he pushed his head closer to Murtagh's. He didn't say anything – there really wasn't anything to be said. But the two of them sat there for a long, long time, and when Murtagh's arm got tired Thorn turned his head so Murtagh's forehead was pressed against his and Murtagh could wrap his arms around Thorn's head that way. Murtagh let out a long, slow breath, eyes closed.

I'm sorry, Thorn.

Sorry for what?

Sorry that you have to put up with all my crap.

Thorn chuckled, a deep sound that rolled around in his throat. You are my Rider. What else would I do?

Hell if I know. Something useful.

Thorn snorted, and warm, dragon-scented air puffed around Murtagh. This is extremely useful.