Chapter 14

An hour or so after the guards left Murtagh in a room and told him to wait there for Galbatorix, he had finally given up pacing restlessly around the room and now stood facing the softly crackling flames in the fireplace, his arms crossed over his chest. The waiting irritated him more with every passing minute; he had wanted to get whatever punishment Galbatorix had planned for him over with quickly, but the King evidently considered that too merciful. Murtagh hoped that Thorn, at least, would not be punished along with him.

'I want to share the punishment with you,' Thorn objected fiercely, having heard his Rider's thoughts. His voice was seething with anger.

'You didn't do anything, Thorn.'

'Neither did you! Why didn't you use the ancient language to tell Galbatorix that Sared was lying?'

'That damned bastard already knows that. He knows that I searched Sared's palace on HIS orders. Clearly he just doesn't want Sared to know about it.'

'No, I understand that,' Thorn interjected impatiently. 'I meant, why didn't you tell him that you didn't attack the Prince because you wanted to pursue Medea?'

Murtagh didn't reply for a while. Thorn's question had caused the stream of thoughts he'd deliberately buried to resurface. After some hesitation, he poured them into his dragon's consciousness.

Did he attack Sared with the conscious aim of killing him and having Medea for himself? No. But was his disdain for Sared initially caused by the fact that the Prince was Medea's husband? Yes. Was he glad when he thought that Sared had died? He had to admit that he was. What other reason for this was there, except Medea?

Murtagh understood now that it would have been impossible for him to be with her, being who they were – he, bound by an oath of loyalty to Galbatorix; she, the daughter of Galbatorix. Like he said to Thorn, some people were not meant to be together. But he could not deny that some lingering feelings for her still remained – perhaps because not enough time had passed to make them fade away, perhaps because wounds do not heal if they are constantly reopened. And he could not claim, without lying, that some part of him didn't still want her. Just like it could not accept the idea of someone else having her.

'I could have proved that Sared lied about me exchanging letters with her,' Murtagh told Thorn. He knew that the dragon had been silently listening, but felt the need to explain his thoughts in case they were too chaotic to comprehend. 'But what he said about me wanting him out of the way wasn't a lie. There is no point in telling only half of the truth because eventually all of it would come out.'

Before Thorn could reply, Murtagh saw the door opening out of the corner of his eye and turned towards it, simultaneously warning the dragon. A moment later, Galbatorix entered the room. Before he closed the door again, Murtagh noticed that there were no guards outside the room. Either the King's confidence in the oaths that bound Murtagh was so great that he did not even consider the possibility of the Rider escaping, or he understood that his men stood no chance against Murtagh and Thorn anyway; perhaps it was both of these things.

To Murtagh's surprise, a faintly derisive smile appeared on the King's face. 'Remove that scowl from your face. You're not going to be punished.' Murtagh's incredulous expression appeared to increase his amusement. 'Forgive me, but I did not think that you would have played your part convincingly had you known the truth beforehand.' He turned his back on the Rider and stood opposite one of the windows, his hands clasped behind his back. His eyes were fixed on Murtagh's reflection in the murky glass. 'I have tried to enter Sared's mind to see if he truly does not know where Seleara can be found. But I have failed. So, I attempted to gain his trust, believing that with his guard down, he will let the truth slip. Therefore, I made him believe that searching his palace was your own initiative; and I pretended to punish you, making it seem like I had nothing to do with your actions.'

Galbatorix' explanation did not appease Murtagh's anger, but he forced a neutral expression onto his face nonetheless. 'But how can it be, sir, that you were unable to penetrate his mind?' he asked. He was well aware of what Galbatorix was capable of.

'I have also asked myself that question, because I know that no ordinary man would have been able to resist my power. And he, he is not even a magician, he is not an elf or a Rider, he is human! So how could he have done this?' the king paused and glanced at Murtagh, as if expecting him to answer. The Rider remained silent, despite having an idea of where Galbatorix was heading with this. The older man continued: 'I believe that this is an effect of Seleara. I am now more certain of its existence than ever. Especially after Sared himself told me something very curious…'

'He admitted that he had Seleara?' Murtagh inquired, curious despite himself.

'Not exactly. He said that on the night when Eragon burst into Geoulnaresque, as he flew away, Sared saw him holding something that resembled a flower which glowed even through the darkness. Apparently he had not told me sooner because he had only recently realized what that object could have been,' Galbatorix scoffed. 'He thinks it was what Eragon came for, but he still denies that he had any knowledge of Seleara's whereabouts. I would have applied force to him a long time ago… it is a much more effective way of obtaining information than simply asking. But I suspect that the effect of Seleara on him would render torture useless.'

Murtagh tried not to look too disappointed.

'I do not understand one thing, however,' Galbatorix mused. 'What does Eragon – or the Varden, I should say - need Medea for? To use her against me? They would be foolish to believe that this would have any effect on me. Or perhaps she was not kidnapped at all,' he continued, his tone insinuative. 'As I recall, she had ran off with you two once before.' Murtagh willed himself not to react, as had become his habit. The slightest suspicion would cause Galbatorix to inspect his memories – something that, surprisingly, he had not done since Murtagh returned from Geoulnaresque. The king's sharp gaze lingered on him for a moment before he continued. 'But that matters little to me. I need you to pay the Varden a visit. Bring Medea back, if she is still alive. And bring Nasuada, the leader of the Varden, too. I doubt that you will have the opportunity to search for Seleara there, Eragon and his dragon will get in your way; instead, we will force its location from Nasuada. So take her and Medea, and leave. Do not linger.'

Just as Medea started to believe that Nasuada had forgotten about her existence after her arrival a few days previously, the Varden's leader sent a messenger to her tent, asking to see her. As she followed the boy across the camp to Nasuada's pavilion, Medea repeated her fabricated story in her head for the hundredth time, reminding herself of every fact and minor detail that she was supposed to know. The need to constantly keep up her new identity was tiring, especially since it was so different from reality. She hadn't gotten used to it yet.

Somewhere ahead of her, a dragon roared deafeningly. A few moments later, Saphira emerged from the opposite direction, making one thing clear: the roar did not belong to her.

A.N.: Thank you for the reviews, guys, you are awesome!

hpswst101 – haha I laughed at your comment about Sared's little pedestal – that's how I see it as well!

Lobo de Fuego – thank you so much! I also hated Murtagh's part in the book, but I think I will exploit it for extra drama hehe. But don't worry, eventually it will turn out differently from what Paolini did. And I'm so glad that you like my portrayal of Murtagh and Medea – I was actually really worried that she would be unlikeable because she's an OC. But I guess it turned out ok!:)