Murtagh's return to his work reignited something within Hal herself. A desire to do something to help and be of use. Although she knew it was at the insistence of everyone that she had taken her time and focused on her healing, she still couldn't believe she had gone so long without lifting a finger to help the people of Ilirea.

She threw herself at every task brought her way by Juliet in the coming weeks: helping prepare meals as well as working the serving lines, watching the children that had been orphaned in the attack or whose parents or guardians were too injured to care for them, doing laundry, bringing in firewood, and more. There was always something needing being done, and while Hal was happy to make herself useful, it was like fighting the Ra'zac all over again: for every chore she completed, three more stood to take its place. However, no matter how daunting or strenuous the ask, Hal never complained. If anything, she was relieved; relieved that the people of Ilirea had come to trust her enough to help at all.

"Is this enough, Ms. MacKenzie?" Hal asked, angling her large bowl towards the older, hook-nosed woman with a pinched mouth and a deep-set exhaustion in her eyes.

The woman hardly seemed to glance at the numerous chopped potatoes and nodded. "Yes, that's perfect. Pass those along to Lucille, if you please."

Hal did as instructed with a swiftness to please, finding her time spent with the young children and the caregivers perhaps her favorite thing to do. She imagined Juliet had taken notice of Hal's quick affection for the little ones, as she had begun to insist more frequently that help here was needed more than anywhere else.

"Take these to the children for now," Ms. MacKenzie added, gesturing with her chin to the tray, filled with an assortment of perfectly ripened fruits, a few wedges of cheese, and some bread. The fruit was a special treat, brought over by a group of elves on Arya's behest, who had also carried with them various medicines and herbs.

Hal knew it wouldn't be the most filling meal the children would have ever had, yet they rushed forward with bright, eager, hungry eyes when she set the tray down in the makeshift play area that had been given in a small room in the castle.

"Ah, ah, ah," Hal said firmly, holding up her hand before the children could start groping the food. "What have we practiced?"

At this, they lined up, Baldor or Albriech helping to keep them organized — (the brothers were prone to step in and help at whatever task Hal was taking up on that particular day, which she always appreciated) — Hal and Juliet made their plates, acknowledging every polite, "Thank you, Miss Hal" or "Thank you, Miss Juliet" with kind smiles of encouragement.

As the children ate, Hal sat with them, wiping at sticky hands and mouths. When they would get too restless and try to get up to play, Hal would corral them into sitting back down. They did not understand how dire the food shortage was. Ms. MacKenzie had told Hal when she first started that Nasuada had agreed that any extras go to the young, old, and the sick first. They were managing all right for now, but Hal did not want the children to deal with empty bellies. When they were fuller on warm food, their laughs were louder, their smiles brighter. Everything felt like it would be okay. Hal felt like it would all be okay.

Because water was scarce, baths were far and few between. However, Hal and the others did their best to wipe the little ones down, removing any remnants of food or play before putting them to bed for the night. This was perhaps the hardest part: during the day, especially when the sun was out, it was easy to feel lighter, more carefree.

Safe.

Hal knew this better than anyone. But at night, shadows that were once easy to ignore moved like an enemy. Even if some of the kids were too young to fully grasp what had happened that night, there were plenty of older ones whose trauma was as fresh as it had been weeks before. On these nights, Hal was always late to bed herself, arriving long after Murtagh had gotten in. He never said anything when she fell into his arms, just needing to be held as she cried, the screams of the children warped in her mind until they became her own, muddling past and present.

Hal was coaxed out of her reverie by the familiar sounds of the infant in her arms spitting up at last, the contents of its lunch dribbling down the cloth Hal had put over her shoulder. She carefully moved the child, grinning down at the puffy, red cheeks as they began to quiet down at last. "Oh, I know we feel better now, don't we?" Hal teased gently.

After finally getting the babe tucked in for an afternoon nap, Hal had only just sat down in an empty corner to rest herself while the children slept when Ms. MacKenzie approached her with a soft smile and a steaming mug of tea, which she handed to Hal.

The both sat in silence for a moment, their eyes on the still figures of the little ones. "You are good with them. I swear it was never this quiet before you came along."

"They just needed a bit of routine, that's all. I didn't do much."

"We both know that is not true. The days you are not here they are constantly asking me where you are and when you're coming. You are not just good with them, Miss Halen. You are good for them. I thank you for that."

Hal bit back a humble denial of such praise and instead smiled. "I am happy to be of service."

"Watching you had me thinking how children like them miss out on much of life. They have no one to provide for them except the government, no one to teach them, care for them, in the absence of a familial structure. Even before the attack on the city, children lived on the streets, stealing to make ends meet. As a result, they wind up in the jails or in the ground." Ms. MacKenzie shook her head. "I do not want that future for them."

"Nor will it come to pass," Hal blurted, horrified by the reality of which the woman spoke of. "Were children truly left to fend for themselves?"

"If there was no one to care for them, yes."

Hal was quiet a moment, her brain moving almost too fast for even herself to keep up with. Later that evening, she was still stumped, feeling like she had an idea on the tip of her tongue. Yet it evaded her with a most frustrating dance, fliting just out of her grasp whenever she dared reach for it for.

"I just can't stop thinking about how I could've ended up if the Tenari had not found me and taken me in," she explained to Murtagh as they changed into their nightwear, having finished detailing her day. "These next few months will be crucial for them. If they do not get the care they need and deserve, I fear it will have a negative effect on them come adulthood."

"Why did you look at me as you said that?"

"Because I'm talking to you, rider. And also…you are a bit of a prime example for what not to do to traumatized children."

He snorted as he pulled his shirt over his head. "I can't argue with that."

"And of course, that's not to say they are a lost cause, just as you weren't. But while you had Tornac for many good years, there's still so much he was unable to do for you in the time he was given. But these children…it took me seconds," — she snapped her fingers together for emphasis — "to see how much they were hurting. Right now, they need a…a Tornac or a Denu. Someone who can care for them without trying to necessarily replace what they lost. Right now, all they have are tired and overworked patronesses who have extremely limited resources and are also dealing with their own, personal matters. I feel helpless, Murtagh. I want the children to have what I did but no such thing exists. And I cannot ask for more of the women like Ms. MacKenzie. They are stretched thin as it is."

Murtagh was nodding along as she spoke, pulling back the bed sheets. "A difficult task."

"Aye. It is absolute chaos. I feel awful that I'm not doing more to help."

"Hal," he said in a warning tone.

"I know, I know," she assured him. He patted the space beside him and she fell in beside him, letting him pull the blankets up over them both as she continued. "I just empathize is all. And it's all frustrating. Sometimes I don't know what was harder: losing my family or learning afterwards to live without them. There are so many emotions and feelings that children can't fully comprehend or understand. It can feel so isolating to go through such things. And what of the orphans that come after them? I still can't believe a city would abandon such innocence to chance."

"The world is a cruel and ugly place."

"It doesn't have to be," Hal insisted sharply, turning to face him. "I mean…yes, it is. Because people are cruel and ugly. But they are also kind and hopeful." She thought of Denu, Morgan and Isabella, Giles, Juliet, Roran, and so many others. So many who had shown her kindness when she needed it most. "I don't want children seeing the world through such a mindset. You and I both know how exhausting it is. If I can find a way to spare them even a fraction of the heartache you and I endured as children, then I must."

Murtagh's eyes had softened, but they also carried a profound sadness as he listened. "I do not want to see you get hurt," he replied, his voice low. "If you seek to make change because you desire it, because you know it is the right thing to do and you are in a position to do it, I will support you all the way. However," — at this, he leaned closer, piercing Hal's gaze with his own — "if it is guilt driving you to act then, as you did with me, I must protest. So, tell me Hal: what is it that motivates you in these matters?"

She knew better than to look away, even as his eyes pored over her, leaving her feeling naked. Vulnerable. Among other things that she should not allow her mind to think of when she was discussing such a heavy topic. "It was guilt at first," she admitted. "It is hard to remove such a feeling at the moment. But I've also thought of nothing else all afternoon. It's not just that I want to help, but that I want to think of their future too. You and I have both been graced with profound change at the hands of people who knew we were worth the effort. And that sense of duty and compassion has extended itself to me now. I want to help, rider. I know that much is certain."

He took a deep breath at the same time she did, and they both broke out into smiles. "Okay," he said, his lips lifting in a smile. "Okay. So, tell me, has Ms. MacKenzie said anything?"

"Only that they need more space, more resources, more help, and they're not getting that here. She has mentioned appealing to Nasuada to ask for support from the other cities, but the demand is so high and her majesty is so busy it's difficult to catch her."

"I'm happy to bring it up the next time I'm to meet with her," Murtagh mentioned casually.

"Oh, rider, I didn't bring it up to imply that you should —"

"Just say 'thank you,' Hal."

She shook her head, but her smile was impossible to miss. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." However, his expression soon changed and he took a deep breath and said, "Speaking of Nasuada…"

"Uh-oh."

"It's nothing serious," he added at the tension in her voice. "However, she has asked me to inquire as to how your magic has fared since we last met about contacting Eragon." Hal closed her eyes, dread washing over her in realization as Murtagh's hesitant words washed over her. "It's okay, it's okay. I've been telling her how busy you've been trying to help and that you're still recovering from the siege."

"You've been telling her," Hal repeated, catching the wording and frowning. "Murtagh…has she asked you about this before?"

She looked up at him squarely, and he carefully avoided her gaze while looking equally guilty. "Perhaps once or twice before."

"And you just conveniently forgot to mention it until now?"

"Admittedly, her prior inquiries were in casual passing, so I assumed there was no immediate action required. She knew the state you were in, and I certainly wasn't about to add to your plate when you already had enough going on." He signed, running his hand through his hair. "That being said, she did seem a bit more anxious and insistent this time, and I promised I would mention it to you. I could tell she would make sure too, and I didn't want to put you in a bad position by not saying anything at all."

Hal groaned, regretting her haste to be truthful about her abilities and offering to help. "Dammit all." She flexed her fingers absentmindedly, as if that alone was enough to gauge her current, magical standing. While she hadn't been practicing, physically she was feeling stronger. The growing amount of labor she had taken on had helped get her back to a state of normalcy with her body. Would that be enough to summon a scrying spell strong enough to reach Eragon?

"So…" Murtagh hedged slowly, "what do you want to do?"

"Well, I can't very well back out now, can I? Don't answer that, it was rhetorical." He promptly shut his mouth, chuckling. "Physically, I feel fine. I think helping out around the castle has helped speed up my body's recovery. I practically feel as I had before. However, you and I both know I've never had to actually scry from such a far distance before."

"If you feel stronger, that's already a good sign. You know all you will need to do is focus. I'll be right there to guide you if you need me."

With the reminder of her promise now hanging over her head, Hal knew her concerns for the orphans would have to be dealt with later. As if realizing she was still too wound up for sleep, Murtagh pulled her into his chest, snuggling them both into the warmth of the sheets. With the soft glow of the nearby torch and Murtagh's heartbeat in her ear, Hal forced herself to relax. In a soft voice, Murtagh guided her through emptying her mind, like he used to so long ago, when they were deep in the arms of the trees of Illium, as if they were the only ones in the world. And to his soothing cadence and her peaceful memories, Hal was asleep within minutes.

…

Are you sure about this?

You know, Thorn, the more you ask me, the less confident I feel.

I just don't want you putting unnecessary pressure on yourself. You do have that tendency.

Do I? I hadn't noticed.

Cheeky woman.

Nagging dragon. She could feel his genuine concern through their new, fortified bond, and added gently, I'm all right. I will be disappointed if I am unsuccessful, but I will not let this be the thing that breaks me. If it doesn't work, we will merely find another way.

Aye, that we will.

Hal looked ahead at the fractured mirror that had been salvaged from Nasuada's study in the castle. She had explained to Hal that Eragon had spelled it so that she and him could quickly get in touch in case of an emergency. It was their best bet at the moment, and Hal was the only one able to pull it off.

Hal took a deep breath. Her focus had to be absolute, and she began by first clearing her mind. It was rather easy to do, especially since she had been provided a small, private room in the section of the castle that was still standing to work alone, as part of her deal. Although she could still hear the nervous pacing and whispers on the other side of the thick door and blocked that noise out as well.

Moving as she had when she was practicing, she waited to feel completely void of thought and distraction before then zeroing in on her goal: she pictured Eragon's face when she had last spoken to him. Focused on her intent of speaking to him again. His image came to her clearly, and she slowly called on her magic as she focused on then projecting his image onto the mirror.

Several moments passed before Hal slowly opened her eyes. The surface was no longer a plain reflection, but it was not a full image either. Instead, it was an empty, white space. Then a thought struck her that she would not see the background here since she had not seen it before. Did this mean it worked? She leaned forward on the mirror, so close she felt like she was going to fall through it. "Hello? Eragon, are you there?"

Silence.

She squinted, trying to see if she could even see anyone. "Eragon? It's me, Halen…from Illium. We've spoken twice before. Are you there?"

But the office seemed abandoned and she sat back in frustration. It had not dawned on her to consider whether or not he would even be there. She had been more pressed about getting her magic to work.

Suddenly, she heard a door open somewhere she couldn't see, and her head shot up, hopeful. "Eragon! Eragon, are you there? It's me, Hal — oh."

It wasn't Eragon. Instead, a small child with remarkably violet eyes appeared before her, with dark hair and an oddly familiar silver mark on her brow. She could not be any older than ten or so, but Hal's stomach dropped with the "child" spoke: "Who are you?"

Hal was confident she didn't hide her surprise well at all. The girl's voice sounded almost grotesquely mature compared to the body it was coming out of. Blinking quickly, Hal cleared her throat and said, "It's an emergency. Is Eragon near?"

"He's out with his pupils for the day. I don't know you. Yet you are using Nasuada's mirror."

Hal could hear the suspicion in the girls voice and quickly added, "It's all right. Eragon knows who I am. We've spoken previously. But if he's not here, can you deliver a message for me. It's urgent and I don't know how long my magic can hold this scrying."

The girl frowned, clearly wanting to ask more but instead said, "How do I know this isn't a trick?"

"You don't. But it would not harm you to hear what I have to say."

The girl narrowed her eyes, her gaze piercing and, admittedly, a bit unnerving. "What's your message. And I will decide if it is even worth delivering to the Shadeslayer."

The girl's response would have to do. "Please tell Eragon that everything has escalated since we last spoke. Ilirea…Ilirea was attacked by a Shade and the Ra'zac. And as a result, magic was lost."

The girl looked to bewildered by this to continue to appear skeptical. "Impossible. How are you scrying right now when —"

"I really don't have time to explain it all," Hal cut in, feeling desperate. "Nasuada tried to send a messenger to Eragon but we believe the Black Hand killed him. Please…just do this. When he returns, tell him that Halen and Murtagh are in Ilirea, Invidia and Blödhgarm are still on Illium with my people. Our fears that a Shade was behind everything was correct, and they along with the Ra'zac and the Black Hand have not only attacked the capital but created a massive spell that prevents us from using magic. If you all can still use it, then you have been spared. Arya, Orik, Roran, Nasuada, and Orrin are all alive and unhurt, at least for now. But we are vulnerable and we need aid. Please, can you tell him that?"

The girl looked, understandably, overwhelmed. Her eyes had hardened as she gazed at Hal, trying to discern whether she was being honest or not. Finally, she nodded. "All right. I will tell Eragon what you have told me. I'm sure he will attempt to get in touch with you himself and he alone can prove whether or not what you say is true."

Hal opened her mouth to at least thank the girl, but she strolled rather haughtily out of the frame, gone almost as quickly as she had appeared. After releasing her magic, Hal blinked at her own reflection, rather unsure as to if that could have gone better or not. She would simply have to hope the girl was being truthful. They had no other choice.

When she rose to her feet, she caught a glimpse of her shining palm and realized then why the girl's own mark looked so familiar. The girl had been touched by a dragon at some point. She did not seem to care when Hal mentioned Murtagh, and she was sure that, at this point, Thorn would have mentioned blessing another. So perhaps Fírnen or Saphira had done it. She wondered if that was the reason for her strange appearance. Although Thorn hadn't seemed to have done anything to Hal of such a caliber.

When she stepped out into the hallway, Murtagh and Jörmundur were there waiting.

"Did it work?" Jörmundur asked urgently.

"Are you all right?" Murtagh added, cutting his eyes at Nasuada's right-hand with irritation.

"I'm all right," Hal assured him. "And it worked —"

Jörmundur breathed in relief. "I'll go tell her majesty —"

"Except," Hal said sharply so that she could finish, "it wasn't Eragon I was able to speak to."

The man's face fell and Murtagh blinked, equally confused. "Then who? I thought I heard voices?"

"It's rather hard to explain but…I think she was a child. Violet eyes, very mature, a bit foreboding, and a tad tactless, which is rather concerning if I'm the one saying so —"

"Elva," Jörmundur stated with a knowing look, then he chuckled, unbothered still. "Her name is Elva. She is rather unusual as you saw, but she has gained Eragon and Nasuada's trust over the years. She will deliver the message."

"She said she would, but I could not tell if I managed to actually convince her since she did not know me."

"We cannot control that, but she would not dare risk ignoring a message meant for Shadeslayer. I trust that she will deliver it. Did she say were Eragon was?"

"Out with his pupils for the day."

"Ah, I see. We certainly cannot be surprised."

"However, my theory seems more plausible. She did not immediately question me as to the state of magic until I told her we were without it, and even then she seemed doubtful. I'm optimistic that that means they were, indeed, spared from Thea's curse."

"It would be a mighty mercy indeed." Jörmundur bowed his head. "I will notify her majesty immediately of this. Thank you again, Miss Halen — oh, my apologies, Mrs. Morzansson — for your efforts. You continue to prove yourself in these trying circumstances."

Hal did not know what made her blush more, his endearing gratitude or his sincere correction of her name. Murtagh was more stoic, but Hal saw the tips of his ears redden. "I'm happy I could help. Please let me know if her majesty wishes to speak to me directly. I suggest keeping the mirror close by her should Eragon try to contact her later."

"Yes ma'am!"

She and Murtagh parted not long afterwards to attend to their respective duties. The children, much more accustomed to Hal by now, were even excited to see her as she joined them just in time for breakfast. They were a welcome distraction from her thoughts, which waited with great expectation for a memo from Nasuada that Eragon had reached out. Hal wasn't quite sure why she put so much stock in his aid, but she felt desperate. Like she hoped that his involvement in the matter would somehow solve everything.

"Are you all right, Halen?" Ms. MacKenzie asked her near the day's end. "You've seemed a bit distracted today."

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I've been waiting for news from her majesty, that's all."

"She told you about the children then?"

"I — what? What about the children?"

Ms. MacKenzie frowned slightly. "So, she didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what, exactly?"

The woman released a sad, heavy sigh that told Hal to brace herself for bad news. "I received a memo from her majesty this morning that the children are to be moved to Aberon, in Surda within a week. Aberon has maintained a steady base despite the flow of refugees from Ilirea. With there being only a few weeks left of winter, she hopes to find the children proper caretakers in the city to alleviate some of the stress here."

"Oh," was Hal could say at first. "Oh, well that's wonderful news. It'll be a bit warmer there, which is always good. And I'm sure being out of this city will be good for them. Especially if they can find good homes."

"Aye, I agree." Ms. MacKenzie looked around the room where the children helped to clean up their space, something they had not been doing until Hal came along. "I intend to go with them to make sure they are all well-provided for and given to good families. You have my word that I will make sure none of these children will want for anything if I can help it."

Hal smiled, but Ms. MacKenzie's words made her chest tighten uncomfortably. She rubbed her eye, pretending she'd gotten a bit of dirt in it. Then she cleared her throat and said, "I know you will. Thank you, Ms. MacKenzie."

"I know you will miss them, dear. They will miss you something fierce, too. But you have done marvelous work with them during this time. It cannot be said enough."

"Only because they themselves are marvelous. Will I be allowed to see them off at least?"

"I would not have the heart to deny you otherwise."

Hal bowed her head in gratitude. She helped finish tidying up the space and bade everyone, including Agatha, a good evening before she and Juliet headed back to the room, Baldor and Albriech pacing behind them. "I overheard Ms. MacKenzie telling you about the children being relocated," Juliet began softly, shooting Hal a sad smile.

Swallowing past the lump in her throat, Hal nodded. "Aye. I won't pretend I'm not saddened by the news, but I'm also overjoyed by it. I trust her to make sure they go to good homes, where they will be cared for."

Juliet nodded. "Aye. But I can't help but think…"

When she didn't immediately finish, Hal probed her with a gentle, "Whatever it is, you can tell me."

"You're just so good with them, madam. You connect with them in a way I've never seen before, and they respond to you. I know this will be good for them, but I can't help but feel like they're better off with you. If you don't mind my saying."

"No, I don't mind it. I feel selfish for thinking the same. But perhaps that is why it is best I let them go now. They are not mine, after all. I cannot hold on to them forever."

And yet, as she climbed into bed that night, warmed from her meal and her bath, she could not help but feel an unbearable sense of loss. It wasn't just that she had grown attached to the little ones in such a short amount of time, but also that the work had made her feel good again. She felt better when she could find meaningful labor. And Juliet's words — "…I can't help but feel like they're better off with you." — had struck a chord with Hal for reasons she couldn't quite put her finger on yet. Yet something was nagging her. An idea that had steadily been forming, and was slowly cementing itself as a possibility.

Unaware of how late it was, she was still awake when she heard the familiar steps outside her door before Murtagh walked in, bringing with him a blast of cold air that made Hal burrow under the covers until the door was shut and the chill had lessened.

"You're up late," Murtagh commented. "I thought you'd be asleep by now."

"I might call it a night shortly."

He heard the dejection in her tone and gave her a close-lipped smile. "Did something happen?"

"Nothing bad. But I did learn that the children I've been chaperoning will be moved to Aberon in a week. Ms. MacKenzie will escort them to make sure they all get adopted into good homes."

His expression turned sympathetic with understanding, and the look made Hal's eyes immediately burn with tears as she pulled her knees to her chest, turning her face away as she tried to hide it in the crook of her arms. "Oh, Hal." Murtagh came and sat by her on the bed, pulling her into his arms. She didn't even have to explain her emotions to him.

"It may not have been for a long time, but that doesn't mean it was any less meaningful. Those children will remember you and the love you showed them in a time of need. They will carry that with them, iet dunei. And like you, they will be stronger for it." She nodded, feeling ridiculous for being so emotional. He took her face in his hands and gave her an unexpectedly searing kiss that momentarily quieted her. When he pulled back, he was wiping her cheeks with his thumbs. "You are so tenderhearted and kind, my love."

She sniffed, feeling flustered as she cleared her throat. "I just don't want them to feel like I'm abandoning them. I guess, in some way, I thought I would have more time with them. I feel so silly for getting attached so quickly."

"This does not have to be goodbye. Perhaps Ms. MacKenzie will be able to share which families take them in. I'm sure the children would love to hear from you once in a while. You could write them letters and they could write you in turn."

"I suppose. It is better than nothing." She finished wiping her face, eager to change the subject. "What about you? Did you have a less depressing day than I did?"

He snorted. "It was much of the same, to be honest." He ran his fingers along the edge of her braid, quiet for a moment. "Actually, there's something I wish to discuss with you. A proposition, if you will."

She leaned forward, curious. "I'm listening."

"How would you feel about leaving Ilirea for a little while?"

She blinked in surprised. "How long is 'a little while?'"

"Nothing too significant. Perhaps only a week or so tops. But Nasuada asked that Thorn and I go to Gil'ead on official business. I thought maybe you'd like to come with me."

She bit her lip, thinking. "Would Lord Farst be there?"

He chuckled, clearly aware of her distaste at the idea. "Yes, but he will be preoccupied with me, as he is the one I will be dealing with. At most, he might ask you to dine with him, but again, I would also be there. But Gil'ead is a lively place, and I still owe you a proper visit to a city; perhaps one without slavers or mobs."

Hal hated herself for laughing, but the cavalier way in which he said such a thing was rather hard not to find amusing. "I supposed you do, rider. Tell me, when would we leave?"

"Not for another two weeks or so. Nasuada is sending word to Farst in the morning to make sure everything is in place. I can ask to include a note that you will be joining me so that he knows to expect you too."

Hal gave the offer healthy consideration, but she gave Murtagh a wayward glance. "Are you truly all right with my coming with you? I don't want to be in the way."

He leaned forward and kissed her sweetly on the lips. "I miss you far too much when I'm away. You would be doing me a favor."

She was blushing like a fool as he stepped away to change, and Hal had a moment where she considered bringing up Eragon and if there was any update there, although she imagined Murtagh would've told her if there was. But the thought slipped her mind as he began to undress. She had plenty of snarky remarks lined up — ranging from his lack of bashfulness now that he didn't have to "hold back" anymore, to a very inappropriate noise that almost certainly would've made him blush — but quickly settled on, "Are you trying to seduce me, Shur'tugal?"

Without missing a beat, he threw his tunic at her, which she caught easily. "Sneaky, little pervert."

"Oh, only for you Morzansson."

She grinned, immensely satisfied with the sight of his cheeks, flushed with the combination of arousal and embarrassment, and his tactile effort to not laugh by avoiding her gaze altogether. "You know, I sometimes can't tell if you're joking or serious."

He turned, his back to her as he began undoing his belt and trousers. Thinking about it only for a second, Hal moved quickly and quietly. She had, in all fairness, been somewhat teasing. But now that she had put the idea out there, she couldn't help but fantasize of seeing it through. Besides, she had yet to tell Murtagh that the more he got used to it, the longer he could last. Another unasked for, but now helpful tip, from the Tenari women. But she didn't want him to feel pressured. Like she had told him: she still very much enjoyed being with him regardless. Besides, he knew how to get her off in other ways in the meantime.

Standing in his leggings, Murtagh was neatly folding his clothes as off-handedly added, "Not to mention it's late. You should probably get some sleep —"

He flinched as she nailed him in the back of the head. He turned, frowning, reaching down to pick up the garment she had thrown at him. She could tell he initially thought it was his tunic. But the moment it registered he was holding her nightgown, he looked over at her with wide eyes.

"There. Now you know I'm serious," she told him, her eyes dancing.

He stared at her, his face unmistakably impressed by her boldness. He shook his head, shaking the material at her like he was wagging a finger. "This is cheating. And coercion."

"Fine then. Toss me back my gown; I'll get dressed —"

"I didn't say that," he quickly corrected, carelessly dropping the garment back onto the floor. He climbed into bed, Hal holding her arms open for him. "I said no such thing."

Laughing with her victory, Hal pulled him down on top of her, eager. However, just as he pressed her against the bed, Hal arching into him with anticipation, there was a knock at the door.

"I'm busy!" he shouted, his voice muffled as he tried to focus on her neck.

No response, just another impatient knock.

"Son of a —" Murtagh hissed. Hal couldn't even hide her irritation from already being riled up as Murtagh climbed out of the bed. He waited until she had scrambled to pull on her robe, Hal giving him a quick nod, before he opened the door just a crack. She couldn't see who it was, but she recognized Trianna's voice as the sorceress said, "Her majesty has requested you and Miss Halen join us in her office. Eragon has made contact and is waiting."

Hal sat up in surprise, both at the news the Eragon had already reached back out and that Nasuada wanted her there. Murtagh spoke in a short, clipped voice that sounded almost dismissive before closing the door in Trianna's face before she could respond. Hal, already climbing out of bed to try and pull herself together as best as possible said, "You will have to learn to work with her eventually, you know."

"I am working with her. I just don't feel the need to go out of my way to be courteous. At least not until she changes her attitude or apologizes. Besides, I know you're not complaining."

Hal, who had been grinning, quickly let her smile fall. But Murtagh had already caught her expression and chuckled. "That's not the point," she countered.

"Well, if she has a problem with my tone, she can tell me. Otherwise, we best hurry so we don't keep them waiting. Although Eragon couldn't have picked a worst time."

"I'll say," Hal muttered in agreement, pulling on her boots and cloak after throwing trousers and an oversized tunic she realized too late was Murtagh's. Not that anyone would notice; and there was no point in doing anything more. Murtagh, likewise, yanked his tunic back over his head and his boots, not bothering with a cloak at all. Baldor and Albriech gave them apologetic looks as they exited and Hal smiled in turn. She knew it was not their fault — so long as Murtagh was sworn to serve the queen, she supposed she would have to come to expect requests at inconvenient and odd hours. Although she certainly hoped it would not become habit. She did not like feeling as though she had to share her husband with the crown.

The brothers waited outside while Hal and Murtagh were ushered inside Nasuada's study, Hal shivering from the cold. Murtagh looked unperturbed, but his face had quickly flushed pink. "Your majesty," he greeted, bowing his head. Hal followed with a quiet curtsey as Murtagh turned to the expectant face in the mirror. "Eragon."

Hal looked to find a familiar face gazing back at them. Even though not much time had passed since she had last seen him, so much had happened in between that it was rather startling to see how similar Eragon looked. What had felt like a long and daunting road had only been a few months. But Eragon must've sensed what Hal did, because he looked at his half-brother with a mix of awe and relief that led Hal to believe that had they been able to meet in person, Eragon would have rushed to hug his brother. "You seem different," Eragon said by way of greeting.

"I feel different," Murtagh replied jovially enough. "But in a good way." He glanced her way as he said this, and she blushed.

"I'm glad to hear it." Eragon's eyes glanced over as Hal following Murtagh's gaze with curiosity before his expression softened. "It's good to see you again, Hal."

"And you, Eragon. It seems my message reached you. Jörmundur said her name was Elva — please thank her for me. I know it must've been difficult to process, especially since she did not know me."

"Aye, she did seem rather skeptical when she told me, but when she said your name, I knew. But that of course brings us back to the concerning matter at hand. Your message said something about an attack on the capital and no magic?"

Before anyone could speak, Murtagh walked over and grabbed the unlit lamp on the wall. Holding it up in his hand, he raised his gedwëy ignasia and stated clearly, "Brisingr!"

Hal held her breath, almost hoping that somehow everything would suddenly and conveniently correct itself now that Eragon was here. Of course, nothing happened, and Eragon leaned forward, shaking his head, brown eyes slowly widening with disbelief and panic. "That's impossible."

"A few months ago, I would've agreed with you," Murtagh said, setting the lamp down carefully on the desk. "The Shade we were tracking on Illium led a siege against Ilirea. Hal realized that it was in order to reap the souls of the dead so that she could have enough energy to convert into a spell. Similar to how the Grey Folk are rumored to have vanished after binding the language together in the first place."

"I understand the words you're saying," Eragon admitted. "But you're going to need to start over. Murtagh, the last I saw you we weren't even sure it was a Shade. And now you're finally reaching back out again just to tell me that magic is gone? It may take some time but I need you to fill in the gaps."

Hal's eyes flittered from brother to brother, Eragon's insistence clashing with Murtagh's impatience. However, he took a deep breath and nodded. "Right, of course. I will fill you in on what I can, I know Hal will too."

"Apologies, your majesty," Eragon said quickly, "I'm sure you've heard all this before."

"It never hurts to hear it again," she assured him. "Perhaps it will help us all to start from the beginning."

Hal was loathed to do that. Fortunately, Eragon only asserted they begin from when he had last heard from Murtagh and Hal, which was still long enough to take up at least an hour or so of time. Murtagh spoke quickly of what occurred, using the same cover story that he and Hal had come up with for his pardon. Eragon listened without interruption, his brows furrowed so deeply that he almost resembled Murtagh when stumped.

By the time Murtagh finished, Eragon looked pained, shaking his head. "I don't understand…why is this the first time I'm hearing of any of this? Invidia and Blödhgarm should have alerted me immediately —"

"That fault lies with me, Eragon," Hal said, speaking quickly and nervously. "I asked them to remain on Illium and watch out for my people. I feared Thea would return out of spite while Murtagh and I were away. Truly, much like you, they may not be aware that anything more is wrong." Not to mention that slight lie they were all keeping from Eragon regarding Hal having been turned into a Shade. The elves would have had to lie if they had contacted Eragon, so instead they had done nothing. Hal would owe them much after this. Giles might have to content himself with her second-born.

Eragon sighed, his frustration turning sheepish at Hal's admission. "I didn't mean to sound callous. And Hal…I'm so sorry that your involvement in this matter has continued to cause you such distress. I feel responsible."

"Please do not apologize for matters that you could not have helped."

He looked unconvinced, and Hal wished, not for the first time, that he did not place such blames on himself. He bore so much already. Now she felt guilty for wishing this to be his problem. She knew all too well what this burden felt like. "Well, I will not push the matter," he continued. "What's done is done. All we can do now is figure out how to move forward with the information we do have."

"We're unsure of how to navigate matters," Murtagh added. "The situation is obviously unprecedented for all of us."

"How can I help?"

Murtagh grimaced, shaking his head. "Truthfully, I don't know if you can. I would be loathed to involve you or any of the fledgling riders."

"I cannot let you and Arya handle this on your own if there's something I can do."

"It's not a matter of whether or not you can help," Nasuada interjected firmly, stepping forward. "But a matter that you know the situation we are in. You being aware already puts me at ease should matters worsen. However, Murtagh is right: we need you to focus on training what few riders we do have. The Shade has already shown her hand and she is a dangerous threat. We cannot afford to send anyone out before they are ready."

"There must be something more than doing nothing," Eragon insisted, clearly less than pleased with his options. However, his plea silenced the room as it cemented the fear on everyone's minds: they didn't know what they could do. They didn't know how to undo Thea's curse or how to make sure they could protect the civilians should she attack again. She had the upper hand in every conceivable way, having backed them into a corner.

"I hate to ask and put you on the spot," Eragon began, turning to Hal as he spoke, "but I must: how are you still able to use magic when no one else in Alagaësia can?"

"Finally," Trianna muttered under her breath. In a louder voice she said, "I think we all have a right to know. Nothing about her magic makes sense. We all know it to be true."

"I already told you," Murtagh began, his voice sharp, "we said that Hal and Thea were from the same village. It's entirely possible —"

"Magic is not entirely predictable," Eragon continued. "Yes, the chances of two people from the same village having magic is possible. But if I am to understand what I've been told, Hal and Thea's magic is almost exact. Neither needs to the ancient language to use it and it draws more from the energy of the earth itself rather than their own. Or at least it can, and that's how they're able to create such powerful spells that would seriously weaken or even kill the strongest elf or dragon rider. Hal, I'm not trying to accuse you of anything nefarious. But if there's anything you haven't told us that could be of use, I implore you to do so."

Hal's tongue felt stuck, her heart hammering in her chest. She did not dare look at Murtagh, but could sense his hardened gaze on her, the subtle shake of his head. She didn't want to get him in trouble with Nasuada again. But the guilt gnawing at her was unfathomable. Could the truth really help? She bit down on her lip, suddenly feeling Thorn's mind reach out to hers, sensing her anguish. The shame she felt as he did so became overwhelming, and she took a shuddering breath as she forced her mouth open, her gaze remaining steady on the floor.

"Thea is…was…my sister."

The word rang hallow in the ensuing silence, and Hal felt like she was going to throw up. Murtagh stepped towards her and reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. Panicked, Hal finally looked up at Nasuada, who's expression was frightfully void of any emotion. "Please, don't punish Murtagh. I accept full responsibility for keeping this from you. I asked him to withhold the information —"

Nasuada held up her hand, then looked at Murtagh. "I suppose this knowledge fell under the period of time before you were pardoned, correct?"

"Yes it did, your majesty."

Nasuada sighed, then nodded her head. "All right then. Hal, I will say how disappointed I am that you kept something so vital from me. However, I of all people cannot place blame on you for your relations. I have certainly learned the hard way the unfair burdens that can place on a person."

She avoided looking at Murtagh as she said this.

"Will you both cooperate from now on?"

"Yes, your majesty," Hal agreed, bowing her head in atonement. Murtagh said nothing, jerking his head in a curt nod as a show of his compliance.

"Good. Then tell us everything you know."

"Your majesty, I must protest!" Trianna stepped forward, indignant, eyes flaring with mistrust and anger. "I cannot pretend to ignore the severity of this. Not only are they related, but the Shade only attacked after her arrival. Who is to say that she did not assist in the siege in some way?"

"That is a heavy accusation, Trianna. Do you have evidence to support this?"

"You have blocked my requests for investigation repeatedly —"

Murtagh rounded on Trianna, his eyes growing mad with rage. "You submitted an inquiry into my wife without telling me?!" he snapped.

"I'm sorry, your what?" Eragon sputtered, eyes bulging with disbelief.

"If it wasn't for Hal this city would've been flattened you ungrateful—"

"Her actions during the siege do not pardon the role she might have played in making Ilirea a target. And I am not the only one who thinks so! Many citizens and soldiers continue to speculate. You may not like it but my duty and loyalty is, first and foremost, to her majesty and the crown. Your presence from day one has thrown her ability to rule soundly into question. People continue to believe that she has shown unfair favoritism towards the both of you. Like it or not your actions — have — consequences. Nasuada is the best thing that has happened to this country and I will not let you be her undoing. Call me whatever names you wish, but every decision and action I have made thus far has been to protect her and her rule. Can you honestly say the same even though you have sworn fealty to her?"

Trianna was panting by the time she finished, her cheeks flushed with rage. And for the first time, even though she hated to admit it, Hal could finally understand Trianna's distrust towards them. She knew she and Murtagh were a threat. A risk. But Hal had, until the siege, been focused only protecting her village, Murtagh, and Thorn. She had not thought to consider the safety of the city until it was far too late.

"You're right," Hal said, speaking up. She was shocked by how steady her voice was. Shocked by how unwavering she stood in the face of the truth. Everyone turned to look at her as she bowed her head in sincere remorse.

"Halen —" Murtagh began.

"Trianna is right. My goals have been selfish. I came here out of ill intent: to use Nasuada and her rule to defeat the Shade so that I could return home. I did not stop to consider the position I was in, the danger I posed. As a result, innocent people have suffered the same nightmare I myself endured. I, more than anyone, knows the trauma of watching your home be destroyed, and the excruciating helplessness it renders. Your majesty, Trianna, you may not forgive me, but I am so very sorry."

Hal finally raised her head and looked first at the sorceress. "You were right to be suspicious of me. I have one more truth to unveil, but I will only do so under your promise, your majesty: you will not punish Murtagh or Thorn, or revoke their pardon. If there is to be punishment, then I alone will bear the consequences."

"No —" Murtagh began.

"I accept," Nasuada said smoothly, gazing at Hal with curiosity and, although it was very well masked, concern.

"Thank you."

"Hal, don't do this," Murtagh pleaded quietly, stepping in front of her. "We can find another way."

Hal looked at him, feeling oddly at peace. His eyes desperately searched hers, hoping for a break in her armor. But she could see in his face that he found none, and she gave him a gentle smile, raising her hand to his cheek, talking low so only he could hear. "Ever since you turned yourself in, I have been sitting in your shadow," she admitted. "You always think I am two steps ahead of you, but I have been floundering for months now because of this secret. I don't wish to live with it any longer if it might make a difference. You have always made me feel brave, rider. So please…let me be brave right now."

He looked ready to argue, even shaking his head. However, rather than rejecting her, he said, "I won't leave your side. No matter what."

She forced a smile on her face. "I know." Something in the hardness of his gaze told her that he was quickly informing Thorn of what was about to happen. She had half a mind to believe that if things went south, the dragon and his rider would be yanking her out of the castle faster than Nasuada could give orders.

Despite this, however, Hal felt ill as she stepped around him to face the others, Murtagh's hand pressed firmly in hers. Sure enough, Thorn's conscious reached out and warmth filled her mind even though he could not be with her physically. She was shaking something dreadful, knowing that once she revealed the truth, there would be no going back for her. Yet she knew she could not continue down this path either. It was eating her alive from the inside out.

No more hiding.

"Trianna, when you searched my mind in preparation for me to present as a witness for Murtagh, you said it felt strange. Unnatural. Later, you even went as far as to say it wasn't human."

"Aye," she agreed, but she was slow to respond, clearly uneasy with the change in Hal's demeanor.

"You were right to assume that, although it is not fully correct to say that I'm not human. When I first confronted the Shade, I left out one crucial detail in order to spare my life from persecution." She took a deep breath. Gods be with me, she prayed silently. Then before she could back out, she said, "When I was taken to Uden, Thea attempted to turn me into a Shade. And, for all intents and purposes, she succeeded."