I don't own Eragon. These events/Amaka are MINE! yawn tirade over. back to the story. ((by the way...Edward Speleers is fricken hot.))

Please R&R.

We he finished, she was silent. "I suppose I should congratulate you…you truly deserve the moniker," she chuckled, "Shadeslayer. Let me see your scar." She leaned forward expectantly. He obliged, removing his shirt. He shivered as her cold fingers traced the long, knotted disfigurement, the sensation decidedly awkward. He could feel her hot breath on the back of his neck, the gentle gusts raising the hairs on his skin. He felt very uncomfortable; she was far too close. He pulled away, replacing his shirt more quickly than was necessary and nearly plunging his head into his sleeve in his haste. She drew back, raising a delicate eyebrow. "What of your scar, then? And you still have not told me why you are banished," he said hurriedly to cover up his embarrassment.

She sighed. "I am banished because I kill. The Great Hypocrisy the elves worship denies me the right to remain with them unless I repent. And I refused." Her hand strayed to her own mark, her eyes dark. "The scar is from the king."

"Galbatorix? How? And why?" he exclaimed.

"Aye," she said, fingering it. It began below her left ear and snaked along her neck and down her side, seeming to run the length of her body. "It was punishment. I failed to kill a man after he refused to serve our good emperor. A wily one, that boy was. Looked just like his father, too."

Murtagh? She tracked him? "If you were following Morzan's son…he is dead," he replied quietly.

"Is he, now?" she replied, glancing up at him. "Interesting." They said nothing more for some time, gazing into each other's eyes. He broke the contact first, feeling very odd. He gazed at the floor, summoning the courage to ask another question he wasn't sure he wanted the answer to.

"Who did you kill?"

"The dragon Kirman."

"You killed a dragon?" he cried, leaping to his feet. Fury heightened his distrust as he stalked forward. Sudden pain snaked across his back and he cried out, collapsing to the ground where he writhed, praying for it to end. Dark spots swirled before his eyes as he thrashed, congealing into infinite blackness as he closed his eyes against the agony.

When he opened his stinging eyes, the beautiful dragon killer was crouched next to him, her head pressed to his chest. When she saw he was awake, she sat up, looking concerned. "You alright?"

He pushed her away, struggling to a sitting position. That attack had been one of the worse yet. He scooted up against the wall and ran his hands through his hair, breathing heavily. He looked up to find her watching him, sitting on her haunches. She looked very wild as the shadows of evening crept across her face, staining her hair the color of blood. "Stay away from me," he whispered. She killed a dragon.

"It was either him or me, Shadeslayer. You know all about that," she said quietly. He turned his head from her, staring at the blank wall.

Little one? Where are you?

"Saphira!" he choked aloud, relief flooding his brain. He glanced at Amaka, then looked away, returning to his conversation.

I'm here.

Where's here?

He sent her a mental picture of the cell. She groaned.

What on Alagaesia did you do now?

He chuckled. Not me. I'm just visiting. He quickly explained the situation to her, reminding himself in the process that Amaka would soon be put to death. Saphria sensed his discomfort, frowning.

I'm coming to get you. I don't like it.

He sighed. Alright. How long?

How long should I take? She asked irritably.

Not long.

She broke the contact just as he was beginning to feel the deer settling in her stomach. He looked over at the captive, feeling almost disappointed. "I must go."

"Have fun." She chuckled. "See you in the morning. I hear the sunrises here are just glorious."

With that morbid thought ringing in his ears, he rapped on the door and exited into the outside world.