There was a level of weariness in his chest when Murtagh rose the next morning. He had barely slept, his mind trying to review every detail of the last few months. For things to have been so quiet, and now suddenly there was evidence of a Shade…he couldn't believe he had missed it.
Do not fret, young one, Thorn told him encouragingly. We have faced off against worse opponents. A Shade will be nothing for us.
You are surprisingly optimistic.
I feel like we have been given a sense of purpose beyond ourselves. This is our home now, and we will defend it against all enemies.
Murtagh paused, his heart hammering his chest. Home. He had not quite said the word himself, yet it was quite obvious that Thorn had no qualms about using it. It certainly seemed fitting. The word one would use when you have found a place to call your own. Yet he simply hadn't given it any thought, Hal's attack quickly preoccupying any elation he had felt at being so warmly welcomed by the villagers.
Home.
He breathed, feeling a heavy burden and sense of responsibility that came with it. Is this how Hal felt when she spoke of her desire to protect the village? If so, it would explain the desperation that fueled her during their lessons. Thorn was right though. Home or not, it did not change that this village had certainly become special to him. Precious. And he felt like he had earned it, through honesty and hard work. He was proud of that and of the friendships he had made. He wanted to protect this place and its quirky inhabitants. But he also feared his strength would not be enough.
Do not let such fears consume you, Thorn warned. You are more capable than you give yourself credit for.
Am I though? Have I truly done anything on my own that would lead you to believe that I can do what it takes to protect the Tenari?
He could feel Thorn's shock as he sat up, pressing his back against the wall as he began to hear Hal moving around the hut. Only then did he realize how early he had gotten up. She usually either had to wake him for breakfast or her movements stirred him from sleep.
You spared Eragon and Saphira at risk of your own life so that Galbatorix would not take them. You alone are the reason Eragon was able to defeat the tyrant. You rescued Hal from the Ra'zac —
I showed them mercy, it was hardly a show of strength. And taking down his shields was only possible because of my feelings for Nasuada. Had my name not changed, my role would have been meaningless. And I did not rescue Hal from the Ra'zac. She killed the creature herself. I was too late.
You and I both know she does not see it that way. And I'm inclined to tell her about this conversation so that she can give you a proper, verbal lashing.
It does not change the truth of the matter —
The truth?! I did not pick so lowly of a rider that he would rewrite his own history in order to lessen himself! You are letting your fears cloud your judgement. And if you let it continue, what you fear willcome to pass.
Murtagh shuddered at the thought, knowing Thorn was right yet still unable to shake the feeling of his own inadequacy. The discovery of a Shade behind this upped the stakes quite significantly. He had not been lying to Hal when he told her that her attack had genuinely frightened him. For in that moment, he felt like he had under Galbatorix's control: helpless. He hated that feeling, hated how lesser it made him feel. And now, it was not just he and Thorn he had to protect.
All my life, until you, I've only ever had to look after myself. It became like a second skin to me, and it fit me accordingly. Not even Nasuada could completely break me out of such a hardened shell. Perhaps with time, but I did not give us that option. And I don't think I was the man who could have. Not at the time.
But now you are that man, Thorn countered gently. The man I knew you to already be the moment you touched my egg. You yourself told Eragon to teach the new riders to fear only in small doses. Now is the moment you must take your own advice and adhere to it. You know what is at stake. You know who is at risk. Will you cower? Or will you fight?
Murtagh was quiet as he pondered Thorn's call to action. He rather hated that the dragon was using his own words against him, but they rang true all the same. Absentmindedly, he rose to his feet, following the sounds of Hal's early morning chores. She was kneading the dough for the bread, her arms covered in flour up to her elbows. Her sleeves were rolled up, her hair pulled up in a sloppy bun at the nap of her neck as she turned at the sound of his approaching footsteps.
"Rider? You're up early, did you sleep all right?"
"I supposed. Figured I would come and offer to help."
She gave him a curious look. "Liar." He blinked, and she shot him a knowing smirk. "You look troubled. What's on your mind?"
"Am I that transparent?"
"Perhaps not to anyone else less observant than me." She turned back around. "Is it about what we learned yesterday? About the Shade?"
He walked closer, letting his silence speak for itself. She didn't push him to talk just yet, much like he had learned to do with her. Hal grunted as she fought with the dough, attempting to smooth it out before she shaped it for baking. In that moment, she seemed so normal. Her scars were not visible underneath the flour, and there was a streak of it across her forehead, her hair falling from its hold and into her face and eyes. He watched her blow on the strands repeatedly before finally reaching out to tuck them back for her. Her appreciative smile calmed him some.
"How do you do it?" he finally asked her.
Her brows shot up, surprised by such a question. "Wow, I'm not sure how to answer that. I suppose, if you must know, the trick is really all in the hips. Other women will tell you the wrists, but there's no control in the wrists. It requires too much strength; you can't put that kind of pressure on them when the dough is this tough —"
She let out a shriek of laughter when he took loose flour off the table and smeared it on her face. She turned her head, trying to flee and he grabbed her around her waist, preventing her from running. "You think you're so clever, don't you?" he grunted, smiling despite his brooding mood.
"I do actually, yes," she teased, laughing breathlessly as he finally set her down. She moved before he had time to react, grabbing her own handful of flour and tossing it in his face, her hands rubbing it in for good measure. He began to cough when it got in his mouth as he inhaled and Hal froze, her eyes wide before he decided to use the opening to retaliate. She squealed with laugher that made his heart flutter as he reached for her, more flour in his hand to smear into her face with equal ferocity as she had done to him. But Hal lost her balance trying to outmaneuver him in the tight space and they both went down, Murtagh absorbing most of the impact as Hal landed on top of him.
The air rushed out of him and Hal rolled off him, laughing at the stunned expression on his face. Denu was suddenly standing in the doorway, looking quite surprised and concerned. "What on earth is going on in here? I hope you two aren't destroying my hut."
Hal laughed even harder, unable to control herself. "We lost our balance, is all," Murtagh grunted, still winded from hitting the hard earth.
"Uh-huh." Although Denu seemed unconvinced — despite Murtagh's words being fairly accurate, just without the extraneous detail — he shook his head at Hal's laughter, fighting to hide his own smile, and said, "Just be careful then. I'm rather attached to this house."
They both managed to acknowledge that they heard him and he left to tend to his own business before breakfast. Hal's laughing fit faded into sporadic giggles and quieter chuckles until she finally fell silent, relaxed. Only then did Murtagh turn to look at her. Her hand cradled her head, propping it up so that she could look at him. He felt a familiar stirring in his chest the longer he held her gaze, but he also couldn't look away. Nor, he realized, did he want to.
"Ask me again," she prompted him, her voice kind but firm.
He exhaled slowly. "How do you push past your fears in order to focus on what you know you must do? I do not mean to drudge up painful memories, but after what the Ra'zac did to you, how do give so much of yourself to your lessons without letting your fears consume you?"
"Wow," she breathed, in a much more serious tone than before. "I'm really not sure how to answer that." She moved so that she was lying her back, shoulder-to-shoulder with him. They both stared up at the ceiling in silence for a moment. "I suppose…I suppose, if I'm being honest with myself as well as you, I've learned to tuck my fears away. I'm not quite sure how to explain it because Ayo helped teach me, but it's like there are drawers in my mind, where I place things I don't want to think about. Painful memories and the like. The feelings they stir within me are still with me: anger, helplessness, fear. But the actual memories themselves — ones that could cripple me as you very well know — I don't focus on. But my feelings are enough to give me validation. They are my reminder, why I must keep fighting. Although I admit it took me a long time to see them that way."
Murtagh watched her carefully as she closed her eyes. When she opened them again, her expression was pained. "The hardest part about what the Ra'zac did to me is how slow it all felt." He dared not move or breathe. Hal had never disclosed what had gone through her mind when she was taken. "It was only a few hours but for me it felt like years. The darkness was suffocating — I could not see when the next punishment would come. I could not even see what the next punishment would be. The anticipation of waiting for it to make the next move sometimes felt worse than the actual torture itself. To be so incapacitated and weak broke my spirit. One that I had spent the better part of twelve years trying to salvage. All of that work, undone."
Murtagh felt a bold sense of protectiveness sweep over him. Despite the level of control in her voice, it was clear that those memories still haunted her. Still frightened her. But he waited, not wanting to interrupt.
"And when that fear gets to me, when it feels like too much to bear, I simply remember a little voice in my head, calling to me when I was at my lowest. Whispering to me to keep fighting, asking for me to be spared. Telling me to follow the sound of his voice so that I may not perish into the abyss."
He turned his head and found her already looking at him, a sad smile on her face. He could hardly breathe.
"You and Thorn gave me a new sense of strength I didn't even know I needed until after I met you. I told you I always feared my magic after what I did. But you helped me to understand it. Gave it purpose and meaning so that I could wield it to protect the people I love most. You reminded me that battle scars, while painful, are a reminder that you survived." She smiled. "I guess, the short version of what I am trying to say, is that I could not do this alone. My people give me something to fight for. And you gave me the strength to realize I could. And I am utterly grateful to you and Thorn for it."
She held his gaze for what felt like a lifetime. And he dared not look away, completely taken in by her soul-searching brown eyes and her gentle-hearted words. It's like she always knew what he needed to hear, but her words were always sincere and honest, never forced.
"You are amazing, you know that?" he said, his voice low.
She looked away from him, her smile turning shy and doubtful. "I don't know about all of that —"
He knew she was feeling vulnerable if her first instinct was to refute his compliment rather than make a brash, teasing remark about it, and he would not hear of it. He set his hand on the opposite side of her face, tilting her head so that she would look at him. "You are," he stressed, leaning in closer and holding her gaze. "I continue to be surprised and inspired by everything that you do. You are amazing, Hal. Do not ever let anyone tell you otherwise."
He had no idea where such sentiments were coming from. And judging by the expression on Hal's face, she didn't either. His thumb ran across her cheek, under her eye, smearing the flour further. He felt a sense of calmness in the gesture. Her hand reached for his wrist, but she didn't move his hand like he thought she was about to. Instead, she simply held on to him, her own thumb stroking the inside of his wrist.
Something that wasn't quite protectiveness began to stir in his chest, familiar. The same sensation he had been feeling around Hal as of late. But this time it was stronger, harder to ignore, and his eyes dropped to her lips in a sudden sign of weakness. Breaking eye contact with her was enough to break whatever hold she had him under, but his feelings felt wildly out of place as he leaned back, giving her room to sit up. She did not seem to discern anything out of the ordinary, but Murtagh was fighting to control the heat in his face before it gave him away.
"You're helping me clean this up," she told him bluntly, glancing around at the flour on the floor.
He grinned, wiping a bit off her forehead. "We both need to get cleaned up," he reminded her.
They worked quickly and efficiently, Hal finishing the bread while Murtagh swept the floor. Every so often, he would find himself sneaking a look at her while she worked, humming to herself, occasionally talking aloud about her chore list or something she had forgotten. It was all so familiar, so comforting, and so ordinary that Murtagh felt his chest tighten once again at the thought of what should happen if he failed. And yet, that she should smile and laugh despite what worries he knew weighed on her mind as well, the same thoughts he had, baffled him. That she had lost so much — more than anyone he knew — and still cared for this village the way she did was a true testament to her character. Her strength and resiliency.
Without thinking, he moved towards her and wrapped her in his arms, folding Hal against his chest. "Murtagh, what —?" But her voice was soon muffled against the material of his tunic. She must've soon realized that he needed this, needed to feel her warmth for himself, because she sighed and wrapped her arms around his hips.
"I can't lose you," he whispered into her hair in a moment of vulnerability.
She pulled back a bit, although he kept his arms tightly fastened around her shoulders. Her smile was unbelievably kind as she took his face in her hands. "Then I will just make sure that I don't go anywhere you cannot follow."
Her voice was so assured that Murtagh could not help but nod. His breathing loosened some, but his doubt and fears still gnawed at him from the back of his mind.
Blödhgarm and Invidia are on their way, Thorn said suddenly.
Murtagh sighed, wishing the elves had a better sense of timing. He relayed Thorn's message to Hal, regretfully stepping away from her. He went to the door, Hal following close behind him out of curiosity. When Blödhgarm and Invidia arrived, taking in the flour that covered their faces and hair, Hal grinned mischievously while Murtagh muttered, "Don't ask."
"Then we won't," Blödhgarm said with a rather knowing smirk that made Murtagh's face hot. "We came because we are preparing to put wards up around the village."
Murtagh tried not to audibly groan. He had forgotten that quickly. "Let me go wash up and change. I'll be right out."
"I'll come with you," Hal said, turning on her heels.
"Actually, that won't be necessary," Blödhgarm added gently, his expression apologetic but firm as Hal turned to stare at him with surprise. Murtagh knew she was not always used to being told no and, if she was, she usually did what she felt she must anyway.
"May I ask why?" she challenged, crossing her arms over her chest defiantly.
"Although I'm sure Murtagh has been key in teaching you basic, rudimentary magic —"
Murtagh felt like he had been slapped.
"Hey!" she snapped defensively.
"This magic is beyond you," Blödhgarm finished. "It would best if you stayed here for now where it's safest."
"Well that's too bad," she snapped. "Because the magic he's taught me is perfectly fine." But as she moved to walk away, Murtagh reached out and grabbed her arm, turning her so that she faced him. "Rider, what are you doing?"
He was too ashamed to voice his thoughts aloud, but she read the look in her eyes because she tried to yank her arm back. "No. No, I'm not staying behind like some helpless lamb. I'm going, that is final."
"I ask that you please stay," he told her gently.
"Do you think me useless?"
"No."
"Do you think me a burden?"
"You know I don't."
"Then why?" she stressed. She stopped fighting him so he released her arm now that there was less of a risk she would fall. But the betrayal and hurt in her eyes was perhaps even worse than her fighting back. "I don't have to put the shields up then, if the magic is too much. But let me observe, let me help map the perimeter around the village —"
"We already did that," Invidia stated plainly. She looked to Murtagh. "We need to get going."
He nodded, but Hal stopped him, pleading with her eyes as she said his name. Just once. Only once. And he felt his resolve weaken, but only for a moment. "I'm sorry, Hal."
He walked away from her, feeling guilty for leaving her behind as he changed. He was doing this for her, he told himself. He didn't like the idea of her in the woods should anything happen. There was something about the walls of the village that felt safer. So within the village she would remain for now.
Thorn, do you mind staying and keeping an eye on her?
Not at all, young one. Although, I might recommend you fetch your own meals while you are out.
Murtagh flinched at that.
…
Hal was so beyond mortified and indignant with rage that she accidentally let the bread burn. She told herself not to cry from her anger, it would only make her feel weak and pathetic, and the nasty cycle of then wondering if that was why she wasn't stronger would begin to weave its way through her mind. She had expected as much from the elves, but not from the rider. He was always praising her skills and ability to master the challenges he gave her — yet when it mattered most, he always pulled away from her. Was he lying about her progress? And even if he wasn't, his lack of faith in her was a devastating blow to her confidence. She had taken care of herself for years. She knew she was capable, knew she was strong. Yet she had a hard time believing it as of late.
Or perhaps…
She regretted admitting to him how afraid of the Ra'zac she had been. Had he taken her words to heart, thinking she had meant she wanted out? Did he think it would be easier for him to manage on his own? Perhaps she really would have been a burden. If another Ra'zac had appeared and all she would have done was panic and freeze, it would make sense to keep her behind.
Right?
She refused to speak to Murtagh when he returned; although, the rider seemed to be in a bit of a foul mood on his own. Hal almost asked him what was wrong, then remembered she wasn't talking to him. And in those moments where he looked like he was about to speak, she gave him nothing more than a cold look and shoulder to match. He wasn't stupid. He knew he made a mistake, but she would not acknowledge him until she was ready. Her pride still stung over the course of the next few days.
However, Murtagh's distance must've been worse than Hal anticipated. Even some of the other villagers were coming to her, citing his moodiness and noticing that she and him seemed to be on non-speaking terms. So nosy. Hal just shrugged and gave them an apologetic smile, not wanting anyone to get offended. Part of her was starting to get concerned, unsure if it was the Shade or something else.
But things were, for the time being at least, too busy to fret for long. The village was putting the finishing touches on the wedding ceremony, now only a day away. Murtagh's announcement that he was staying and Hal's subsequent "illness" had delayed things, but now they were back on track. The meat for the feast had been hunted by the groom's family, per custom, and was being salted and seasoned by the women of the bride's family. Decorations and family tapestries were being finalized and put into place, and Hal, as usual, was supporting Denu since he would be leading the ceremony.
"Hold still, old man," she mumbled over the needles in her mouth. She plucked one and carefully inserted it through the material of his robes. The outfit was old, but still grandiose in terms of village attire. The robe was simple, the material hugging his hips and draping over his shoulder, loosely fitted, and hanging down to his ankles. The pleats in the skirt would need to be redone tonight, but it wouldn't take her long to update the stitching. It was made of bright, beautiful colors: reds, yellows, greens, and blues. The pattern was carefully crafted, Denu had told her, by Isa, his late wife. She had given it to him as a wedding present, and he had worn it to every ceremony since as good luck for the new couple.
"Do you know what you'll be wearing, Halen?"
"No, I'll just grab whatever my hand finds first."
"Yes, yes…or, you could wear the turquoise dress Tena made for you…"
Hal was barely listening, focused on the stitching needed to re-hem Denu's outfit. "Huh, didn't know you knew what turquoise looked like, but—"
"Now was the cheekiness necessary?"
"— if that's what you want."
"You got so many compliments last time you wore it."
"I don't even know if it still fits."
"Take it to Tena and have her take a look. I'm sure she'll be pleased to see you in it."
Hal complied, tired and too lazy to argue. Although adopted, as a member of Denu's household, she would have to stand behind him at the wedding. She probably should do her best to look remotely decent.
When she had done what she could for his outfit, she went and grabbed hers. "Denu, whenever the rider returns, send him to Sam's. He mentioned having a spare set of robes for him to wear tomorrow."
"Aye, will do."
Tena was, indeed, pleased to see Hal would be wearing the turquoise dress. In fact, when Hal tried it on, the woman absolutely bursts at the seams at the notion of Hal actually in a decent set of clothes. "Oh, you should wear the gold-colored armbands with the matching belt. Do you know how you'll wear your hair? Please tell me you have a decent pair of sandals — not those ragged ones you always wear or those unsightly boots."
Although Hal was less than thrilled about the prospect of playing hostess along with Denu, she had to admit that at least the outfit would be one less thing to worry about. She still had to go check on the set-up for the ceremony, finish dinner for tonight, finish the pleating on Denu's robes, and make sure she still had all of the accessories Tena had just mentioned before she forgot. She would be busy in the morning as well, helping the family of the bride. She shuddered. No doubt those conversations would be primarily focused on the woman's wedding night. They always were.
She didn't see Murtagh again until dinner. His mood had not changed, but he kept shooting her glances across the table that she could not make heads or tails of. She did her best to ignore him. If he was finally ready to talk, then he knew where to find her. If Denu noticed the lack of conversation, he did not mention it, talking animatedly about tomorrow's ceremony. He was especially excited for Murtagh and Thorn to see it. "Nothing quite like it, I tell you. Absolutely stunning, everyone looking their best. And the food —"
Hal, without looking up from her plate, cleared her throat in warning.
"— Is not nearly as good as Halen's," Denu finished. But he gave Murtagh a sly wink, making him smile. Even Hal grinned teasingly.
"I'll remember that, old man," she teased.
Everyone retired to their rooms early. Hal sat in the chair in the corner of her room, closest to the torch, so that she could work on the pleats in Denu's robes. Her mind drifted, the task too monotonous to require much concentration. She thought of her mother, who had taught her to stich. She would situate Hal in her lap, holding the needle and thread in front of their bodies, her head on Hal's shoulder. Hal, in turn, did the same for Thea when she began to beg to learn how to sew. She had been thinking of her family a lot more as of late, but only the good memories. It was all she could endure. They made her chest tight, but they also made her smile.
There was a soft knock on the door and Hal briefly stopped what she was doing. She debated ignoring him, but decided against it. He was reaching out, she would at least hear him out before deciding what her next move would be. Besides, he would probably just come in anyway — he could probably see the light under her door and knew she was awake. She spoke, allowing him entry. Murtagh glanced around the room until he saw her, his expression almost sorrowful. She lowered her hands to her lap, her expression neutral as he came forward.
"I never told you, but we got the wards up around the village without any hassle. If any Ra'zac or Shade comes within a radius of the village, we'll know."
"Good," she said in a clipped tone, returning to her needlework. "If that's all you came here to say —"
"It's not. You know it's not." When she didn't acknowledge him, he continued. "You have every right to be angry with me —"
"My emotions certainly don't require your validation."
She expected a sharp retort in response but when none came, she felt tears of frustration build. But she didn't dare raise her head, hoping perhaps he would leave before her feelings got the best of her again.
"I knew I made a mistake the moment I told you to stay," he continued, his voice low. "But I didn't realize the depths of what my lack of judgement entailed until it was far too late. I acted selfishly out of my concern for your safety. And it was never my intention to undercut all of your hard work these last few months by implying you were not strong enough to handle the task. You were right — even if you couldn't perform the magic, there are other ways to be useful. And I certainly never should have let Blödhgarm insinuate otherwise."
"You all made me feel weak."
"I know —"
"No, you don't know, because I'm telling you now!" She remembered that her and Denu's room was only separated by the bathing room, and she got control of her volume. "I expected such things from Blödhgarm and Invidia because they know nothing about me. But you know better. You know I'm stronger than what they assume, you know I'm capable. And you know this because you taught me. Not only did you undermine my abilities but you undermined your teachings as well. Neither of those things sit well with me and they should not sit well with you either."
"They don't. I'm an unbelievable ass, Hal. I'm sorry. Please forgive me."
She observed him quietly, her shoulders relaxing some at the sincere apology. "Only on one condition." He waited. "Unless I am in no mental or physical condition to make a coherent decision, you do not make them for me without discussing it with me first. I understand your concerns for my safety, and I do not take such feelings lightly. If you had just told me you would feel better if I waited, perhaps even offered to teach me the spell later so that I did not feel like it was a wasted learning opportunity, I would not have been so angry. Frustrated yes, but that would have been my own problem to sort through, not yours. Do not dismiss me completely simply because of your worries. Otherwise we both begin to see me as weak, and that's not fair to me."
He was nodding incessantly and Hal could not help but smile. "You have my word," he said. "And if I do slip up, please do not wait so long to call me out on it."
"Oh, I certainly won't. This was your first and final warning, rider. So, do tread lightly."
His smile was strained despite the humor in her tone. Hal frowned as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed. He seemed troubled, and Hal realized that there must've been something else that happened that she didn't know about.
"Is everything else all right?"
He nodded absentmindedly, which didn't do much to convince her. Then he suddenly shook his head. "No, I'm not all right. I mean, nothing is wrong. Aside from the obvious of course. I guess I just —"
"Out with it, rider."
He breathed before looking at her. "The elves have asked me to hand over your training to them."
Her eyes grew wide. "Are they serious?"
"Aye."
"Did they say why?"
"Only that — with this new information about the Shade — they felt it would be in your best interest."
She chewed relentlessly on her lower lip, understanding coming between them despite what went unsaid. "And you agree with them."
It wasn't a question.
"I cannot argue the logic of being trained by the elves. Eragon was and he improved drastically, although I cannot deny that Brom gave him a strong start."
"I still don't quite understand. What would they be able to teach me that you can't?"
He snorted. "Everything, I imagine. The meaning of life, the meaning of magic. They could sing an entire forest out of the ground if they so desired. It would certainly be a lot better than the stumbling, rudimentary lessons I've been giving you —"
"Those stumbling, rudimentary lessons are the only reason that Shade didn't break through my defenses!" Hal hissed. "Don't you dare insult all the good work you've done because of your injured pride. If you don't want me to train with them then, heavens, just say so."
She hadn't meant her outburst, and Denu's dress and her needle had fallen from her lap. She doesn't remember standing, but she was still buzzing with anger at the wayward expression on his face. Had he suddenly been doubting himself this entire time? She had been adamant about wanting to become stronger, to be able to protect even Murtagh. But she had forgotten, arrogantly, that he would also need protection from himself and his own biting cynicism. Mere months would no undo years of what he had endured.
"I hate when you do that," she continued, fighting tears of frustration and hating how quickly her emotions got the better of her when she was around him. "Tear yourself down like that. As if we'd even be having this conversation if it weren't for you. As if I'd even have a fighting chance. You waste all your breath praising me for the most asinine of tasks and trivial details and yet you don't even give yourself a passing acknowledgement that you were the one teaching me in the first place. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?"
He didn't answer. He hadn't even looked at her since she began speaking and his own cowardice made something in her snap. "Look at me when I'm talking to you, Morzansson!"
It was like watching clay brick dry in the sun, waiting for him to turn his head. He met her gaze, but only barely. And his eyes were filled with so much shame that Hal felt her heart twist with the pain of it. So much like her mother, who she couldn't save.
"Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?" she repeated. "When I've been spending the last few months, putting everything that I have to give into your lessons. And you stand there tearing them down like your efforts have meant nothing. Like my efforts have meant nothing. Do you even realize how happy those lessons made me? To be able to grow closer to you, to stand before you now and be able to call you my friend." She angrily wiped her face, hating how quick to tears she was but desperately needing him to understand. "Those lessons became something I looked forward to. To finally be able to understand this part of myself that I've been afraid of for so long. To feel like I could maybe have a fighting chance again. It may not have been perfect but that is no surprise, rider, that is simply life. But you think all of that was a series of rudimentary stumbling?"
She felt herself calm down, and she sniffed, wiping her face on the back of her hand. "You're such an ass, you know that?" she finished, her tone sharp. "Your pride is detrimental to my emotional state."
His face was stoic, his cheeks red, as he stood slowly and walked over to her. He picked up the items that had fallen from her lap, closing the distance between them. She began to reach for the gown when his fingers reached for her cheeks, wiping away what tears remained with acute tenderness. She wanted to lean into his touch, feel his hand on her cheek. His way of letting her know everything would be all right. But she was also still very much pissed at him.
"I hate when you cry because of me," he said in a low voice. "No matter how many times I promise myself I won't be the cause of your duress, I can't seem to keep it."
"It's a stupid promise," she muttered dryly. "Such is the nature of caring for someone besides yourself. You are bound to make them cry. I will cry, I will not speak to you, and I will be angry, but that does not lessen how much you mean to me. And the same, I hope, is true of me if I upset you."
His smile was sad, but it was a smile all the same. Hal bit her lip again, unsure of what to say now. Hopefully she hadn't just made things worse. Not to mention she felt awfully hypocritical, considering she was constantly fighting her own battles with self-loathing. Perhaps they were both too broken to comment on the other's deprecating manner. But she didn't like it coming from him. It wore too heavy on his shoulders, a reminder that he meant every cutting remark. That he had heard such statements for his entire life and was, more than likely, repeating what he had been told, whereas Hal projected her inadequacies from her inability to protect those she had cared about. But she had always been told she was strong, smart, and capable by the people whose opinions mattered most. No. She could not compare the two at all. And she felt that familiar, burning anger on Murtagh's behalf, driven by her own protectiveness.
Just as she was beginning to regret her outburst, she suddenly felt his thumb on her lower lip, freeing it from the confines of her teeth before she gnawed through it. Every thought in her head immediately stopped and collapsed, her mind blank and her body buzzing with delight at the touch. Stunned, she looked up at him, expecting a teasing grin or a knowing smirk or even a kind smile.
She got none of those.
Instead, she saw something akin to predatorial. Hungry. His grey eyes looked almost wild with it as he studied her lips. Fire began to race through her bloodstream, making her skin hot and flushed. Her stomach was knotted with nerves. The same sudden reactions she had felt when he had taken her face in his hands on the floor of the kitchen, how his eyes had looked at her differently. Wantonly. Anticipation for what he might not do. Hope, for what she suddenly realized she wanted him to. Fear, for what this all even meant.
His finger was still on her lip, and it traced the curve of it like he was taunting her. Toying with her, like prey. All the heat from her body landed in the apex of her thighs, and she was so flustered and surprised by her sudden lust that she gasped with the shock of it.
The sound broke whatever reverie they had both been under. Hal wasn't even sure her knees were going to hold much longer. Murtagh lowered his hand and they both stepped back, neither able to speak. Murtagh looked confused, staring at his hand as if it didn't belong to him. And Hal was touching her lip, torn between committing the act to memory and never wanting to think about it again.
But as Murtagh gave her one final look, she saw it. The way his gaze lingered on her lips one last time before he quickly left, too embarrassed to say goodnight. When the door was shut, Hal fell back into her chair, not even bothering to realize that Murtagh had left with Denu's unfinished robes in hand.