Shay rode in silence beside Vanir. Bane's muscles bunched and rolled beneath her, causing her to rock slightly with his gait. Her sword remained at her side, one hand rested on it. Neither Vanir nor she had ventured to speak since they had danced the night before. Shay wasn't sure what stopped her. Perhaps the fact that she had nothing to say.

"We'll reach Ellesméra by tomorrow night," Lifaen said from the front of the group. "We shall stop here for tonight."

Shay brought Bane to a halt. From the corner of her eye, she saw Súndavar dismount from Eridor. She smiled. The boy had insisted on bringing Rune's horse. His own mount, a persnickety mare called Finna, had been turned out to pasture.

Saphira! Bring Slate and land. We stop for the night! Shay heard the words in her head. Eragon's words were directed at the dragoness, but he spoke to them all.

Seconds later, Saphira appeared between the trees, Rune's body still clutched in her claws. The girl hung limply. Saphira flapped her wings nervously, feeling closed in and awkward with so many trees. I cannot land holding her.

Súndavar moved underneath the dragon, reaching up. Hesitantly, Saphira dropped the girl into his arms. She felt soft and light. Waiting until the boy moved out of the way, Saphira settled onto the ground.

In a moment, Slate landed beside her clumsily. I land, he proclaimed to the group dramatically.

Lifaen grinned at the horse sized dragon, who looked so small beside Saphira. A smile even flitted across Vanir's lips, quickly to be replaced by a look of seriousness.

Slate and I are going hunting, Saphira said. We shall return before dawn.

The dragons took to the skies again.

Soon the group had settled down by the fire. Súndavar sat quietly by Rune's sleeping form, while Eragon chatted amiably with Lifaen. Arya was looking in Ellesméra's direction, as if straining long enough would bring it into view.

Shay sat silently, as Vanir paced back and forth. His dark hair fringed his face, his eyes were solemn and just a bit haunted.

"Sit down, Vanir," she murmured. "You're making me nervous."

Vanir ignored her, continuing to pace. He didn't meet her gaze, or make any motion to acknowledge that he had heard her. Shay felt as if she had been slapped. It was true that they had just met, but he didn't have to be rude. Vanir was their guide, and they guests. He should at least be civil.

Shay turned away, folding her arms over her chest. Men could be so annoying. Maybe she was right to never fall in love. She didn't need a man to weigh her down anyways, she tried to convince herself. She had enough on her plate.

Vanir ignored her discomfort. It seemed as though he had forgotten their exchange entirely.

The air was tense. The group had all seen them dancing, and there was nothing worse than being caught in a quarrel between lovers.

Except we aren't lovers, Shay reminded herself. She had never been that close to anyone. Much less Vanir.

Shay felt like all eyes were on her. Vanir just kept pacing.

Lifaen broke the silence with a grin. He raised his voice, and began a lively tune, his face raised to the moon.

"O!

Life spins by a single thread,

Glistening of gold,

Joyous call heard by us all,

The blood of young and old.

A gentle touch, a simple glance,

From lad to fairest maid,

Yäwe bond, an oath so strong,

Of love that ne'er shall fade.

O!

Beyond the beauty of mere form,

Though pleasant to the eyes,

A shining strand, a helpful hand

'Neath heart bound to the sky.

I sing of Lycona faire,

A woman brave of heart,

Who gave herself for land and elf,

Forevermore apart.

O! Forevermore apart…"

The group clapped, all tension evaporated by the words.

"That was wonderful, Lifaen," Eragon complimented.

"I'm no minstrel," the elf replied humbly, "And I'm afraid the one Narí sung you the last time you were here was quite a bit better, but I thank you for your praise."

"Pretty," Súndavar grumbled, not looking up from Rune.

Eragon glanced up at Vanir, who had stopped moving to listen to the words. The elf scowled and began his pacing again. But the song had put the group in high spirits, and not even Vanir's grumpiness dampened the mood.

Eragon frowned. That name…Lycona. He had heard it before. If only he could remember where…He was about to ask Lifaen when it came to him.

Those last moments in the tunnel, before the frightening occurrence that cleared the blocking wall and doomed Rune to adlát slytha…Rune had called out something, before placing their hands on the wall and whispering the words that bound her to him. Lycona!

Something must have shown on Eragon's face. Lifaen cocked his head. "What troubles you, Argetlam?"

Eragon shook his head. "Nothing, Lifaen. I've heard the name Lycona before…"

Arya turned sharply, watching him with a careful eye. It was common knowledge that Rune was Galbatorix's daughter now, but the elf princess had not revealed the identity of her mother.

"I'm not surprised," Lifaen replied with a grin. "Lycona's story has become a legend among us."

"Indulge us," Eragon asked politely, "with such a tale?"

"Well, it was long ago…" Lifaen began.

Eragon sat back to enjoy the story. It captivated him. Words about a jealous, spiteful girl who wanted what she couldn't have. Words about her seducement of Evandar, and her vendetta with Islanzadí. It was a wonderful story. He felt as though the characters were speaking to him, as if their tale was his own. Islanzadí's forgiveness touched him, and he felt tears coming to his eyes.

"She disappeared nearly sixteen years ago," Lifaen finished. "And she hasn't been seen since."

"Where is she?"

"Some say she's alive in Galbatorix's castle. Others think he killed her upon sight. Still others believe she betrayed Islanzadí yet again and settled into a human city, but those are few."

"In short, we don't know," Arya said softly.

"A day long festival is held every year on the anniversary of her disappearance to honor her courage and loyalty," Lifaen continued. "It's a wonderful celebration."

"Perhaps we will be there for it," Eragon mused. Perhaps I'll be able to awaken Rune for it…

"Perhaps," Vanir snapped, stepping into the conversation for the first time. "It is due time we slept. Dawn waits for no man, woman, or elf. And we leave at dawn."

oooooooooooooooooooo

Shay rode at the back of the line the next morning, near Súndavar. Ahead, Vanir didn't seem to notice.

Now I know how Eragon feels, she thought, thinking of his 'secret' – or not so much – passion for Arya. Shay shook the thought off. She didn't like Vanir that much. He had seemed nice in Lillendale, but perhaps he was not nice at all. Shay couldn't think of a reason for him to fake at that sort of thing, but she was sure there was one all the same.

"You keep watching the back of his head, Shay."

Súndavar's voice surprised him. "What?"

"You keep staring at our guide," Súndavar repeated.

"No I don't!" Shay snapped. Súndavar was a kid. What did he know?

Súndavar shrugged. "You look like a bitch in heat when you look at him like that. It's kinda unlike you."

Shay wrinkled her nose. "You're imagining things. There is nothing between Vanir and me."

Again, the boy shrugged. His ambiguousness was getting on Shay's nerves. "Would you like there to be?"

Shay narrowed her eyes at him. "Even if I did, it wouldn't matter."

Súndavar didn't respond. He glanced upwards, searching the sky for Slate. "Where is that idiot dragon?" he muttered irritably.

Saphira and Slate had taken off at dawn, and hadn't been seen since. It wasn't surprising, as they had both endurance and speed, but it was beginning to annoy the younger Rider. How come Slate always spent time with Saphira anyhow?

The day progressed slowly. There was no conversation.

What's happening to us? Shay asked herself. Before they had come to Ellesméra, such a silence was unlike them. But now it seemed their days were full of it.

Sighing, Shay continued on. What else was there to do?