Chapter 32 - Bittersweet

At first light, Arya had welcomed Katrina, Ismira, and Nasuada's servants into her home. Mother and daughter were polite when entering her space, but the three handmaids sent by Nasuada looked like a tornado devastating all in sight, sweeping, washing, cleaning. The treehouse soon resembled more like somebody else's home than her own. They changed the table cloth, the sheets and the position of the flower arrangements and paintings on the wall. The books were removed from the shelves and dusted one by one, then organized in a way that made no sense to Arya. More than once, Arya's heart clenched at the sight of Eragon's careful touch being wiped out from their little home. She made an effort though to calm herself and remember that he would be there to help her put their belongings back in place. They could make a day out of it, just the two of them, organizing their private space.

Katrina and Ismira, sensing her distress, invited Arya to the kitchen while the handmaids worked on the bedroom. There, they started to prepare the food for the wedding dinner. Among other things, they were preparing pork meat. Arya was against eating meat, but she understood the social norms in those kinds of festivities. A good human celebration would be lacking if there was not a fair amount of good meat and lots of ale and wine, even if it meant feeding of the energy of innocent creatures. She concentrated on cutting the carrots while Katrina brought the freshly slaughtered animal from the wagon and the smell made her stomach churn. She gritted her teeth and put even more attention on the carrots and what Ismira was saying.

"Poor Dain," she said, "he rode west on a horse before dawn. He said sailing back would take too much time, especially considering that Ceunon is in the far north. Hope offered to take him on Breddor, but Saphira advised against it, being him too young to travel such distance with two people on his back and in an incredible hurry."

Arya took a shallow breath to speak.

"She's right. It would be too straining for Breddor. Either way, he wouldn't be able to get there in time for the funeral."

"Dain knows."

Ismira sighed and squatted before the oven to feed the fire. Arya had watched the girl grow up over the years. She knew about her involvement with the young Lord of Ceunon even before her parents, because she was in Ilirea when the two had met during the Annual Games and watched it happen. It was a predictable relationship since the pair was very much alike in personality. Their position of importance in the future of the Valley and Ceunon was also a contributing factor to their union. Arya was glad they had managed to overcome any adversities and stay together. They were good to each other as she observed over time.

Ismira was comfortable enough in Arya's presence to confide in her when she needed the advice of a wiser one. Arya made sure to offer her all the support she needed as a close friend of the family. It felt that sometimes she would be taking Eragon's place in Ismira's life, which made the responsibility even bigger.

Arya turned to look the girl in the eyes, leaving the carrots chopped in slices on the table.

"Were you two hoping to have your wedding here in the east?" She asked.

"I was," she shrugged and stood up, "so uncle Eragon and Saphira could be present. However, Dain had second thoughts. He wished his people could participate as well. But now we won't be able to choose, will we?"

"You were able to choose to do it in the first place," said Katrina, who bathed the pork in a sauce made of fat, butter, and herbs. "You have your uncle to thank for it. He put some reason into your father's head."

Arya smile because Katrina had a severe tone in her voice and a creased feature just to think about how Roran had been difficult about letting Ismira marry Dain. Arya didn't take Roran's reason, however, since he was only doing what was right. It was a matter of perspectives, she considered.

"True," Ismira agreed. "I just wished I could have them at my wedding as well. Arya, maybe you can convince uncle to come back to Alagaësia. Tell him it's just for a few days, there's no harm in being away for a few days, is it? I'm sure he will listen to you."

Arya felt bad for Ismira when she had her brown eyes beaming with hope.

"He's not allowed to leave Fell Thindarë, I mean, Mount Arngor, in self-indulgence."

"But the other Riders do it! Renir travels to wherever Avelina is. And that's self-indulgent." Ismira crossed her arms and looked angry, an exact imitation of Katrina.

"The others don't have duties as strict as his. Even mine allows me to fly free. If only my other duty could be as forgiving as this one." She signaled the diadem over her brow and spared the girl a sad smile.

"It's not fair," Ismira complained. "Did he choose that? Why would someone choose to be bound forever to a place or a duty?"

"He chose to come here, indeed, so did Saphira. To start a new age of the dragons and Riders. It was the right thing to do," Arya said, feeling as discontented as Ismira.

"If you knew your uncle, my child," Katrina finished preparing the pork and grabbed the pan to put it in the oven, "you would know that he must do what is right, even if his means are a little, you know, unconventional."

Arya nodded.

Ismira breathed deeply.

"Fine. I guess you won't try to convince him, then?"

"I cannot."

The girl stayed in silence as she helped Arya with the vegetables. When they finished, Ismira moved on to mixing the ingredients for the bread dough, and Arya sat at the table to watch her. The young woman glanced over Arya's delicate crown.

"Is it too demanding, your other duty?"

Arya held a complacent smile.

"Can't you imagine?"

"I believe it is, but I could never imagine how is the life of a queen. Especially an elven queen."

Katrina, who stirred the logs in the fire with an iron poker, meddled in the conversation, "Ismira! It's not proper of you to question a queen about her duty."

"It's all right, Katrina," Arya adjusted herself in the chair as she was entering an unwelcoming environment. "It is very demanding, indeed."

"You implied you don't feel free," Ismira said coyly.

"I am not. A queen must live for her people. Fortunately, my nature was always of giving myself to others, so this is not what plagues me."

Now even Katrina was interested and threw the dishrag she used to wipe her hand over her shoulder and leaned against the counter to listen to Arya.

"What is it?" She asked.

Arya crooked her head to the side and thought about what she could tell them.

"Our politics are… complicated."

"Haven't you always dealt with politics?"

"Yes, but I was the ambassador, always mediating. This is different."

"Is it boring? It seems boring." Ismira lifted her brows as she worked on the dough.

Arya laughed lightly.

"It can be boring, yes. But overall, it's tiring. And dangerous, sometimes."

"How so?" The girl's concern was apparent.

"Imagine a place in the ocean where the current splits in other smaller currents, each one revolving in different directions. Turbulent and dangerous waters, that is the result."

Mother and daughter stared at her with confused eyes. Arya knew how to be deflective as only her kind could be, but she found herself being blunter with time, mainly when talking to humans. So, she adjusted her speech.

"What I mean is that conciliating different opinions can often be troublesome. And that's what a queen must do in the majority of the time. Powerful people demanding different things may cause chaos."

Katrina nodded, swaying her red curls. It seemed like she knew what Arya was saying. Ismira, on the other hand, looked sad.

"Can someone try to hurt you because of those demands?"

Arya stared at the girl. That was the moment where the elves would normally get around and bend the language not to tell the whole truth. Humans would lie completely, saying that she couldn't get hurt just to keep Ismira's mind untroubled. But Arya thought that she deserved the truth.

"Yes. I'm not immune to it. None of us is, not Nasuada, Orrin, Orik…"

"Uncle and father. And Dain," Ismira completed the list.

Arya breathed heavily.

"I'm afraid you were born into a family bound to do grand deeds, but also suffer for it."

"Not only my family, Arya. You too, my friends."

Arya bent her head slightly and smiled.

"We will be all right. All of us. You will see."

Ismira's fingers dug into the dough with too much force, and Katrina shook herself out of her trance to get back to cooking. It was easy to tell lies in the human language, Arya thought to herself.

It was around midday when the men arrived. Roran announced he was going to arrange the hill along with a reluctant Orik, so he left. Eragon stayed to work on the site by the river where they would dine and celebrate. He entered the house to drag the dinner table outside and his face turned pale when he looked around the kitchen and the living room. His eyes captured all the changes made there by the handmaids then crossed paths with Arya's look. She mouthed I'm sorry to which he seemed to agree.

The rest of the day was spent working on the preparations for the wedding. Arya only stopped working on the kitchen when the handmaids gathered to leave two hours before the sunset. Katrina and Ismira were supposed to leave as well so they could bathe and get ready for the ceremony, but they hesitated to leave Eragon in charge of finishing to prepare the meal.

"I'm telling you, Katrina. I know how to do it. Go, we will be all right."

"Promise?" She raised a brow to him, inspecting the pie he was working on.

He laughed.

"I promise. Now go."

"Fine," she said and came closer to Arya, who was cleaning the dishes in the basin, "you keep an eye on him, huh?"

Arya whispered to her, but Eragon heard it all very clearly.

"Don't worry, I won't let him out of my sight."

"Good."

Katrina turned on her heels and left. It was the perfect time for Eragon to approach Arya and steal a moment of her attention.

When he rubbed his face on the nape of her neck, she retreated and gave him a side look.

"Eragon!" she reprehended him in a hushed voice, "they may see us!"

"We're alone," he said against her skin.

"Roran and Orik are here!"

"Can't you hear them nailing the flower arrangements on the structure by the river?"

He was right, they were busy. Slowly she relented and turned to reciprocate his caresses. His hands were full of flour, so he held it away from her, but his body pressed her against the counter. She ran her fingers up his arms and ended the motion on his face, where she scratched his still growing beard then held him with tenderness.

"If someone sees us, it will be your fault."

"Aye, all mine."

His smile was the last thing she saw before closing her eyes to receive his warm kisses.

Ismira's voice was so sweet he almost missed when Murtagh and Nasuada walked to him on the Tialdarí Hill that was decorated with lilies forming a pathway for the couple to walk through. The melody coming from his niece's lips was romantic with a touch of melancholy, different from the old joyful Palancar Valley wedding songs chanted for centuries. At least, that was how he perceived it, for the moment was bittersweet to him. His brother's marriage with the Queen was a troublesome occurrence: it would bring lots of happiness to the couple, but it could also throw a veil of conflict and darkness over the land.

Eragon breathed deeply to stop his heart from stomping on his chest from the stress and looked ahead. Nasuada was a vision. He gasped to see her in a light lilac gown adorned with laces on the sleeves and neckline, with flowers on her head in the place of her crown. She was the definition of beauty. And power. He could never describe Nasuada without asserting her power.

Murtagh looked handsome with his hair combed back and his red formal attire. The smile on his face was so big that Eragon wondered if his face didn't hurt from the strain. It caused Eragon to smile as well. Behind the couple, Roran and Katrina walked so they could speak for them as their closest family members and friends.

Eragon decided not to open the ceremony the usual way that consisted of allowing the small crowd a moment to object against the union if there was a plausible reason for it. He looked around and saw his most treasured friends knowing that they would all be lying if they silenced to the question of a possible impediment to that wedding, so he was the one to silence. He searched for the inspiration he required to give his speech in each one of those faces: Orik and Hvedra – that were there for Nasuada only as they had made clear more than once during the day –, Roran and Katrina, Arya, Ismira, Iain, Saphira, Thorn, and Fírnen. Even Angela inspired the words that would come out of his mouth.

"Welcome, friends. Tradition speaks that we must give a chance for people to object against this union. But tradition also speaks of companionship and sacrifice, important aspects of a joint life," his voice wasn't loud, for he was speaking to a small gathering. "So today, instead of allowing tradition to act against you, Murtagh and Nasuada, I will tell you a story of love and sacrifice that I hope will inspire you."

His eyes wandered once again, lingering a second too long on Arya's before looking away at the setting sun. The red and orange light painted the hill and its flowers, and Eragon inhaled deeply to start his telling, "Once there was a man who had the fame of being odd. He lived on the outside of a small village where everyone knew everyone. Not a single word was spoken there without being heard by the entire population. It enraged the man, that wished nothing more than privacy to live alongside his loved one. So, he hid for years in his hut with only the company of his wife, and that was the perfect life for him. Winters were his favorite, for the snow would muffle the voices brought by the wind from the village. He was happy this way, or at least as content as one can be when dealing with the scarcity of a poor life."

Eragon paused and noticed the eyes focused on him. He loved the power of storytelling and often marveled by the innate search for representation carried by humans, elves dwarves or whoever walked the land with an intelligent brain inside their skull.

"One winter day, the man decided he had spent too much time feeding of their stocked supplies, not knowing if it would be enough for the entire season. He wanted something fresh, something new, despite what his wife said that they were fine and she wished he could stay inside, warm and safe. So, he gathered his bow, a hunting knife, a change of clothes, a blanket, and some mead for the road," he blinked an eye to Orik, who chuckled and pulled his beard, "and he left. He walked through the snow all day only stopping for quick rests. The more he walked, farther from the village he got. He traveled for two more days without the sight of another creature, intelligent or not, until a camping site came to his field of view. The snow there was still as abundant as around his village, and he could see a lone figure sitting by the fire. Careful not to scare the person, he shuffled his feet on the ground causing much more sound than his experienced hunter steps normally would. A pair of eyes focused on him and he saw an old man, his wrinkled face was tinged by the marks of tears. The man came even closer and greeted the elder. It was when he saw that at his feet a body of an old lady lied lifeless. The man was speechless, looking from one figure to another. What happened?, he asked. It's my wife, said the older man, she didn't wake up this morning. For almost fifty years we stayed together, not once she woke up after me, but this morning... I should've known something was wrong."

Eragon paused again to give time to the audience to prepare for the rest of the tale and then restarted speaking, "The man helped the other to wrap his wife in an improvised shroud made of an old sheet and dig a hole. On his last words to the woman of his life, the old man said, I may see a thousand faces and hear a thousand voices, but I will forget them in the same instant I turn to pass them by, and that will make me feel relieved for your voice and your face will forever keep me company. When they lowered the woman's body into her grave, the silence of the forest was so loud in their heads that he thought he heard something. In a trance, he followed the sound he recognized as a voice for many miles and uncountable hours, leaving the old one behind. And there it was, the village from where he had escaped, right in front of him at the end of the day."

Eragon made another pause to catch his breath. "He walked on thick snow, finally realizing he had been going around back to his hometown. When he stepped on the streets of his village the voices were silenced at once and all eyes were on him. All the people were quiet as they knew he hated their chattering, all standing outside of their houses looking at him. They were quiet and atypically warm. The woman he loved walked through the crowd, so he followed her into the little town, deeper and deeper, until they entered the healer's house. She conducted him further into the house through the hallway and into a big and bright bedroom. Laying on the bed, the old widower from the forest was looking terribly sick and even older. The man approached him confused, feeling just as sick and sad. His loved one touched his shoulder and said, I woke up early every morning for fifty years so I could see your face without any worry lines before you would get up and fill yourself with the day to day concerns. It was my favorite part of the day. And now you will sleep forever. Was it all worth it, the concerns, the fighting?"

Eragon could tell his audience was apprehensive, worried that he would spoil the ceremony with a sad story, but he wouldn't. He smiled gently and continued, "Regret came to the man, who realized he was the old man. He ran out of the house and through the people one second after the image of his wife and his old self dissipated like smoke in the air. He ran to the outskirts of the village until he reached his hut. He wanted to scream her name, but his throat was cold and sore from the freezing wind. He barged in and strode to his bedroom to find his woman lying on the bed, sleeping. The first beams of morning light entered the room as she woke up. Her face that was peaceful and serene became worried and tired all the sudden to the sight of him, so he understood. What is it? Why are you home already?, she asked. He smiled fondly and said, So I could see your face before I could worry you with my day to day concerns."

He looked at Arya as he finished speaking and saw her lips forming the faintest of the smiles, reserved for him when they were in public. It was her eyes, however, that offered him the clear idea that she loved him and worried for him the same way he worried for her. Eragon tried not to smile back and diverted his eyes to the couple in front of him. They were trading loving looks, possibly sharing their interpretation of the story, one filled with their own meanings.

"We worry the people we love, and we get worried by them. But it's proof of love to prevent them from suffering for us, and it's a big sacrifice to silence our sense of self when dealing with our beloved's feelings. What I see is that you, Nasuada, and you, Murtagh, are committed to making each other feel as tranquil as one can be in your marriage, and this is love. Are you committed to this?"

Again, the couple traded looks and answered together, "I am."

Eragon smiled and continued, "Who speaks for Murtagh Morzansson?"

Roran came closer to say, "Murtagh has neither father nor uncle, so I, Roran Garrowsson, speak for him as his cousin.

Eragon nodded and looked at Nasuada. He knew that being a descendant from the Wandering Tribes and if she wasn't the sovereign of the Broddring Kingdom, Nasuada would be expected to hold a wedding ceremony by the tribes' traditions, preferable being tied to one of its members. But she had long adopted the Kingdom's rules being the ruler herself.

"And who speaks for Nasuada Nadarasdaughter?"

Katrina stepped forward to claim such duty. "Nasuada has neither mother nor aunt, so I, Katrina Ismirasdaughter, speak for her as my blood."

Looking at Roran, who despite being similar in age to Murtagh looked like his father, Eragon asked, "What does Murtagh Morzansson bring to this marriage, that both he and his wife may prosper?"

Roran took a deep breath, and Eragon knew why. Murtagh was a Rider. Carrying such a title meant that he couldn't own anything, therefore he couldn't bring a house or gold to his marriage. He couldn't offer his sword as well, for his loyalty would be to the Order; nor his name, for it was a tinted one. Eragon was anxious to hear what Roran had to say.

"He brings his honor. He brings the promise that he will be faithful. He brings the promise of companionship and sacrifice."

It was satisfying for Eragon to have his tale being cited. So, he smiled and turned to Katrina.

"Do you accept this offer, Katrina Ismirasdaugther?"

It was an abstract promise, or an emotional one rather than material, but it wasn't a surprise when Katrina accepted the offer on behalf of Nasuada.

Katrina, on the other hand, offered more than anyone in the entire Alagaësia could offer.

"She brings a castle. She brings gold and a great fortune. She brings her title as the Queen of the Broddring Kingdom and offers him the title of King Consort, knowing that his duty prevents him from acquiring riches and ruling her people."

Eragon frowned. He wasn't sure if having a title that didn't grant any privileges apart from the prestige would qualify as being against the rules of the Order, and he soon noticed as the others couldn't tell either for the eyes were all on him, expecting his approval. Saphira intervened by linking her mind to the Eldunarí in the mountain and as soon as their response came, Eragon nodded slightly to Roran, who breathed in relief.

"Do you accept this offer, Roran Garrowsson?"

"I do."

After that, Eragon performed the rest of the formalities with the thought that once again in his lifetime he was watching history being made. Above all, he was part of history, for many reasons, but now he was also the brother of the King Consort of the Broddring Kingdom. It might have been imprudent of Nasuada to offer him that title, and even more imprudent of Eragon to allow her to do so, but in the end, who was he to stop her candle to burn, or Murtagh's? He once defended them to Arya, and he would keep doing so.

With their wrists crossed and tied by a red ribbon, the couple listened and rejoiced as Eragon declared them husband and wife.

"I would like to speak a few words, if I may," Orik said and the table went completely silent.

They were sitting by the river to celebrate. Eragon had put Arya's dinner table under an improvised gazebo that Roran and Orik had spent the afternoon building. It was simple, and Eragon thought it was not worthy of a royal couple and their royal friends, but it was beautiful, intimate.

"As you all know," Orik started, "the groom and I aren't exactly friendly with each other, but it doesn't mean that I don't wish the couple all the happiness." He raised his cup to them and received a cordial nod from Murtagh and a cheerful smile from Nasuada. "We all have been through the worse one can go through. Looking at all of you here, it amazes me that we are alive and well, in celebration. Nasuada, you were so young when I met you and now you make history with every breath you take. It's an honor to be part of it and be your friend and ally. Congratulations!"

Orik finished his speech and downed his ale. They all toasted, and Eragon went inside to help bring the food to the table.

"I told you to improvise and you did that? A story?" Arya spoke softly as Katrina left the house with a pie in hands.

He grabbed the pan with the pork and looked at her.

"Improvise? Oh no, the story is one of those I wrote for you. It's in your library. I would tell you in which shelf but now I have no idea where it is."

Arya frowned and followed him to the outside.

"I should have thought it through before lending them the house."

Eragon smiled and stopped to look at her.

"No, you did a good thing. We can organize the house together. And maybe even work on that table you want to put outside."

Arya smiled back at him and he saw her green eyes beaming with joy. He still had to get used to cause such reaction on her.

"Now come, they are waiting for us," he called.

They drank and ate until they could no more. Until Ismira pulled her harp and played the wedding songs from Carvahall and other ones of her creation. Murtagh and Nasuada stood up to dance and were shortly followed by Roran and Katrina, who motivated Orik and Hvedra to join. Eragon was feeling hazy by the ale and all the food, so he sat back in his chair and laughed at his clumsy cousin stepping on Katrina's foot more than once.

"Oh, what are you laughing at, boy?" Angela stood up and offered him a hand. "Do you think you can do better?"

He threw a helpless glance toward Arya, who held an amused expression, and took Angela's hand.

"I'm sure I can't, but I can try."

And he did better than expected, considering his state, not once he tripped or stepped on Angela's feet.

"Is this a good moment to tell you I will stay?" Angela said to him as they danced.

"Stay? You have been staying for the last ten years."

"I have gone and come for ten years," she shrugged, "but now I wish to build a life here. Have my own shop in the village."

Eragon narrowed his eyes and paused the dance.

"Why? Now that the agreement on the magical laws was signed you don't have to run from Alagaësia anymore."

"I'm not running from Alagaësia, and I have already told you that this name is only a convention, have I not?"

He was confused. He faintly recalled her saying something like that in the past, but it wasn't a clear memory in his head.

Saphira, what do you think she is trying to say with Alagaësia's name being a convention?

The blue dragon had been drunkenly humming the songs played by Ismira by Fírnen and Thorn's side.

I believe that it has something to do with true names. Renir would know more about it, don't you think?

True names?

Saphira let some smoke out of her nostrils.

Stop thinking about it now. You're leaving your partner unattended.

Right.

"Sorry," he said to Angela, "yes, I remember. Anyway, if you are not running away, why would you want to settle here?"

Angela opened her arms and motioned to the mountain as she walked back to the table. He followed her.

"Look at what you have done here. This is where things happen. And you know me, I want to be where I can be part of things."

She sat by Arya's side and he took the seat in front of her.

"I don't know what you think happens in Arngor, but the day to day life can be pretty dull around here." Eragon served them ale from the jar.

"Don't I know? Thank you." She took the cup he offered her. "But I have this feeling, you know? And as I told you once, you make life interesting, Shadeslayer. I think it's that ability of yours for finding trouble."

Arya laughed over her cup, and Eragon felt outnumbered.

"Fine, do as you please. But why are you telling me?"

"As I said, I wish to build my shop in the village and was hoping you would agree with that."

Eragon almost spat out his ale.

"Are you asking me for permission? You?"

Angela rolled her eyes.

"I know there are rules about commerce here in Arngor. I may be unconventional, boy, but I tend to stay away from the criminal side."

He laughed and shook his head.

"I think this boat has sailed away a long time ago, Angela."

The herbalist spared him a little smile.

"So? May I have my shop?"

"Of course. You can discuss the trading laws with Blödhgarm later."

"Brilliant!" She raised her cup, "To new business opportunities!"

They toasted and drank. Then Angela signaled for Eragon and Arya to come closer and said, "So, when will you two tell others about your relationship?"

Eragon's stomach sank and he saw the same panic in Arya's eyes.

"Oh, relax. I'm not going to tell anyone."

"How… how do you know?" Suddenly, his mouth was too dry, so he drank a little more.

"It was Elva who told you, wasn't it?" Arya's voice was deep.

"Elva? No, no one told me. In fact, I wasn't sure of anything, until I saw the stupid look on your faces," Angela mocked.

"Is that obvious?" Eragon asked.

"Not on your part, for you have been acting like the fool in love since you first saw her. But Arya, if you wish to keep this a secret, then you should keep all that happiness to yourself. People will start to notice."

Angela was having her fun at their expense, and Eragon didn't know what to do. He looked at Arya, who seemed worried but mostly annoyed. Maybe he could have his fun as well, relishing on the fact that Arya was at her most vulnerable when exposing their relationship.

"I don't think she can, Angela. Now that she knows how good I am to her, it will be hard for her to conceal her joy."

They shared a laugh as Arya threw him a death stare.

He didn't have to suffer her wrath for too long, for she invited him to her temporary quarters for the night. It was late night when they all said their last congratulations to Murtagh and Nasuada and left them by the river to head to the mountain.

Eragon hugged his brother tight, pounding on his back.

"I wish all the happiness in this world, brother. To you, your wife, and unborn child. And you know you can count on me, right?"

Murtagh let go of his embrace and grabbed Eragon by the shoulders.

"I do, brother. Thank you for everything. You're too good to me."

"Don't say that."

"No, Eragon, he's right," Nasuada came to put her hands on his cheeks, "you are good, to the both of us. I hope our political divergences don't spoil our family relations, because I have a deep appreciation for you. You should know that."

He closed his eyes when she kissed him on the forehead.

"And I, you, Nasuada. Sister," he said with a great smile.

He shared her concerns about their divergences. Eragon liked Nasuada and felt they would be the closest of friends if it weren't for the distance and political views. She was cunning and ambitious; he was righteous and brave. Those qualities spoke too loud when dealing with official matters, and he considered their positions to be ideal for one another. He could never be king. And she would make an intransigent teacher and Head Rider. They were where they had to be, so he could only hope that those two roles could work well together.

Even though Arya had forgiven him, he could tell she was restless because of what Angela said. She had closed her mind to him and turned on her side on the bed, with her back to him.

"Arya?" He whispered.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry."

Arya sighed but didn't turn.

"I'm not mad at you."

Her voice wasn't strict or annoyed, but he heard a note of concern. He took the chance to close the distance between them and hold her by the waist. She adjusted herself into his embrace.

"What are you mad at?"

"Myself. I thought I could hide us but then thought it didn't matter, we should tell the world we are mates. Then, I got afraid of the consequences just to try to convince you to reveal our secret to your family. And now I don't know what to do."

"Someone wise said to me last night that I shouldn't be worrying so much over a difficult task I had, instead, when the time comes I should improvise."

He felt her shoulders relax a bit.

"You are telling me to improvise in front of the council?"

"Well, to be honest, I wasn't thinking about the council, but why not?"

She laughed.

"That's absurd."

His hands turned her so he could face her. He brushed her hair out of her face and caressed her cheek.

"You will know what to do, Arya, I trust and support you on this. But don't forget about Dusan and his mission. You should be careful when trusting people."

Arya blinked slowly, leaning into his touch.

"I say the same to you."

He smiled, "I will be careful, I promise. Anything for you, my queen."

Eragon's sleep was empty of dreams, like a deep meditation. He kept his mind fixated on Arya's breathing next to him to help him control his stray thoughts. It was working. They were faintly connected as she wasn't allowing him into her concerned mind, and through their bond, he could perceive glimpses of her agitated dreams. He tried to ease it, but she kept him at a safe distance. Against her mental force, he would never dare to battle. He also felt agitation coming from Saphira in the eyrie, so he extended his mind to her, exiting his slumber state.

Saphira? Are you all right?

She didn't answer, instead, his mind was filled with afflictive thoughts. Saphira had been working on augmenting her mental reach a bit every morning, and every morning she would make progress, small but important progress.

That early morning it seemed that she was wandering through Du Weldenvarden.

Saphira, talk to me.

Little one… It's happening.

What…

A loud noise echoed in his head like an explosion, making him sit up straight at once, and so did Arya.

"What happened?" she asked confused.

"I don't know. It's Saphira, she was scouting the forest."

Shh, look at this.

Saphira pulled them and Fírnen to her vision.

There were flames all around from an explosion in the north, burning the trees, melting the snow.

Saphira, how far are you?

Far, very far. North of Du Weldenvarden. I've never been this far before, her voice was scared and strained. I need to cut the connection now, for I'm not strong enough to keep it. Did you see all you needed?

No, they didn't. His mind was racing with unanswered questions. Why didn't she go to the Eldunarí for help? Eragon traded looks with Arya, who said, cut the connection, Saphira. Preserve your strength.

Like a chord that had been pulled too far, Saphira's consciousness snapped back and they all felt the emptiness of their own thoughts, for the dragon was too weak to keep the connection that became a thin thread, only enough to make them know she was all right.

Eragon stared at Arya already knowing what she was thinking.

"No, you don't have to go," he said.

"I do, Eragon."

He grabbed her by the shoulders.

"Listen to me. I can send the others, they can take care of it."

"The others? How many of them are responsible for my people like I am?"

His eyes were pleading when hers were resolute.

"Please, you just got here. We still have three weeks."

He watched as she kicked the sheets aside and started dressing. Next, she collected the few items she had brought to the mountain and put it in the bag.

"There's no time to waste. The rest of my belongings you can keep in the treehouse for the next time I come. Can you do that, please?"

He was too appalled to speak, so he nodded. Noticing his heartbreak, Arya climbed on the bed again and sat on his lap. She ran her hand through his hair.

"I need to do what's right. You understand, don't you?"

Eragon felt his eyes burning. He felt like a child who was told he couldn't play outside because of the rain. His voice was weak when he spoke.

"I hate it."

Arya smiled sadly.

"And I don't like it more than you do. But it's the life that we chose."

"Did we? Did we choose that?"

Arya seemed distressed, as talking about her duties would often make her feel. Eragon then shook his head and pulled her to him.

"Forget what I said. You go, but be careful," he said into her hair.

"I am," she replied, and he felt her breath on his shoulder.

"Take Elva."

"She didn't touch the eggs yet. She won't go."

He grunted and moved away to stare at her.

"You can't go without her."

"Ask Renir to take her later. I can't wait until she is finished touching all the eggs."

"It will be quick. We will take her to the Hall of Colors immediately then you can go. Please, Arya, don't leave her behind."

Arya clenched her jaw and grabbed his hair with too much force for his taste.

"Fine. But we go now and wake her up."

Eragon nodded.

"Renir and Vance will follow you, so will the others. We'll think about the training later."

Her hand clasped the back of his head more softly and her nails scratched his scalp. He could tell she was anxious to leave, and suddenly the melancholy he felt at the wedding for other reasons became so strong he could barely breathe. So, he forced a deep breath, inhaling as much as her sent as he could. He also ran his hands around her waist, thighs, and arms, to memorize the touch of her skin.

Too soon, she retreated and left after a soft kiss on his lips. It was too abrupt, too sudden, too unfair. He was left in the middle of the bed, feeling the tears running down his cheeks, while she exited the room to go to Elva's.

Too soon, he spoke to himself between a sob and another, it's not fair.

A/N: Hello there! I'm fine, friends, and I'm sorry it took so long to update. This past month was the end of school year here, and being a teacher at this moment sucks really bad. Well, good news is I'm off work for more than a month. Bad news is now all the chapters are complicated, because we will be entering the conflict itself. It will take longer for me to get things right in a chapter. So, please, stay around, I'm still working on this story and I will see it through.

Last, I would like to say that I have the best readers. Seriously, you are amazing, and I'm so lucky to have you. Thank you!