Chapter Twenty-Four

A True Name Fulfilled

How long Skade cried over Galbatorix's body she never knew. She knelt by him amid the falling snow, wracked by sobs, overcome by a grief so profound that she felt as if it were crushing her.

Not like this. It shouldn't have been like this.

She remembered a time, long ago, when she had been young. Lost and alone in the world, hardly more than a hatchling. Trapped in the form of an elf, cast out by the riders, betrayed by her friend. She had been taken in by Rangda and Durza… the two Shades had chosen to help her because Rangda wanted the allegiance of a dragon.

She remembered the cave at the edge of the Spine, near the village called Carvahall. It had been a home to her for those few months, and that was where it had all changed.

When she found that she was not the only one being cared for by the Shades. There had been one other person there. A human boy. Just as young as she was, by human standards, lying curled up in a corner of the cave, pale and shivering with fever, his handsome face twisted with pain, his curly hair stuck to his face with sweat. She had asked who he was, and Durza had replied. 'He is a rider. His dragon is dead. Now he is an outcast like us.'

Skade had looked at him, and even though she hated riders her heart had gone out to him. Just like her, he had been imprisoned and punished, and betrayed. Later she saw the marks of a whip on his back, the deep welts red and infected. They had meant to kill him; his fingers were broken from where he had tried to fight his way out of the cell they put him in. Only luck had set him free, and fate had brought their paths together.

She had helped to nurse him back to health; bathing his fevered brow and treating the marks on his back, bringing him food and keeping him warm. He had opened his eyes after a few days, and she had seen the terrible loss in them. Who are you? You're beautiful.

My name is Skade. How do you feel?

Better.

Later he had said; I'm Galbatorix. Galbatorix… Taranisäii.

Galbatorix Taranisäii, born in Teirm, illegitimate son of Lady Ingë of the House of Taranis and the dark elf Skandar Traeganni. Once a rider, but now a worthless traitor and criminal being hunted by the riders all over Alagaësia.

They had talked and shared their stories. He was quiet and reserved, and could not speak of his lost dragon at all. She often heard him crying for her in his sleep.

He only seemed happy when she was with him, and rarely spoke to anyone else. It was as if she were the only thing left he could rely on in a world that had turned on him and tried to destroy him. And she stayed by him because it was the same for her. They had both lost everything they cared for, but in the depths of despair and loneliness they found each other. Then, one day, she had gone out to walk among the trees, and had seen him there, hanging by the neck.

She had panicked and run to him, cut the rope and took him down, and felt hot all over with relief when he started to breathe again. Later, when he was recovered, she asked him why he had done it. Because I wanted to die, he said. I wanted to be with Laela. There's nothing for me here.

There was. She had ached to tell him that. But there wasn't. What did he have?

When he asked her why she had stopped him, all she could say was; I don't want you to die.

He had smiled at her then; a sad, haunted smile. That's the most wonderful thing anyone has ever said to me.

After that she kept a close eye on him, afraid he might try and kill himself again. But he never did. It was as if, now he knew that she cared whether he lived or died, he had something to live for: her.

It was not long afterward that he told her he was in love with her. And in spite of the seemingly impossible gulf that lay between them because of their different species, she had come to love him back.

But ever since that day when the bond between them was made, it seemed as if the world around them would do nothing but conspire to tear them apart. When she had prepared to leave him and resume her search for her father, she had warned him of it. We cannot be together, she said. I am a dragon, you are a human. Nothing can ever change that. No-one will ever accept us. It was a dream. Nothing more.

But during those long years in her father's country, as she watched their children grow up, she had missed him more and more. And in spite of how mad, how dangerous and how impossible it had all seemed, she had gone back to find him again.

She found him changed. Older, sadder, the passionate energy he had once had in abundance now seemingly gone forever. But he remembered her, and he still loved her, and the more time she spent with him the more she realised how little he had truly changed. Inside, he was still the same man.

And she had done everything she could to stay with him. She had defied her father and lost her old home forever. She had even chosen to shed her true dragonish form, which she had worked so hard to regain, simply in order to be with him. Yet despite all they had both done for each other, and all they had been through together, it had come to this.

Five years of happiness – a mere five years for a pair of immortals, when they should have had eternity, and she had lived only to see him come to this pitiful end.

Ravana watched her in silence. Several times he made a move to leave her, but he didn't. He stayed with her, guarding her, letting his presence be the comfort he offered.

Kullervo looked on, forgetting his misery in the face of his sister's grief. His tiny human form felt weak and useless, every fibre of it a torment and prison to him. He had never been able to understand why Skade – the sister he had loved all his life – would choose to become an elf when she had been born a dragon. It had hardened his heart toward her for a long time. But now, when he saw this, he understood.

He had begun to understand when he had seen Thornessa die, cut down by her own kind when the Shades came for him, and when he had mourned her alone in his cell, feeling a deep ache in his chest. Losing her had been as painful as losing his rider all those years ago, and now he saw Skade cry for her beloved he knew it was just the same for her.

He said nothing. He crouched by Skade in the snow, and silently put his hand on her shoulder. She turned and put her arms around him, hugging him tightly. The gesture took him by surprise. His dragonish instincts told him it was an attack, but after the initial jolt of fear he breathed out and hugged her back awkwardly. So this was what humans did. It wasn't so bad, actually…

He held Skade as she cried, shivering amid the falling snow. The fire inside him had gone out, and it was so cold…

Galbatorix knew nothing of it. Skade's cry was the last thing he heard in the living world, and then blackness closed over his senses and carried him away.

He forgot about Skade. He forgot about Ravana, and Eragon, and Alagaësia. Everything, all his mortal concerns, were lifted from him like a heavy load he had carried and could now set aside. He drifted away through the darkness, utterly at peace, feeling no fear or regret over what had happened. It was all over now. He was free. He could rest.

But the void did not go on forever. As he floated on through it it opened up before him in a blaze of light, and he found himself able to wander as he pleased, through the long pathways of his own memories. He saw himself as he had been at different times in his life, always changing, never still. From solemn child to rebellious youth, into the darkness of death, pain and madness and out again. And on and on, through blood and fire and ice, on through the endless years and out the other side, until he saw himself from above, lying dead in the snow beneath Ravana's gaze while Kullervo tried to comfort the weeping Skade.

I look so small, he thought.

And so unimportant, too. He looked at the body that had housed his spirit for more than a hundred years, and it meant nothing to him. It was just a thing now. He didn't need it any more.

He turned away, and let himself float back into the past, singing softly to himself. S mithic teárnadh do na gleannaibh, O'n tha gruamich air na beannaibh, S ceathach dùinte mu na meallaibh…

He looked back on his memories, the good and the bad, with a strange serene acceptance. No matter what they were, whether they had been happy or painful, light or dark, they were all part of him, and without them he would not exist. He had been wrong to try and bury them, and now he let them rise up within him and be real once more. And, at long last, he was at peace with himself.

That was when someone came to meet him, walking out of his memories toward him. He let his feet touch the ground, and they met in a snowy forest, where the wind smelt of ice and pine-needles. But he felt no cold.

Galbatorix stepped forward, his boots crunching softly on the snow, watching the figure that came to meet him.

It looked so much like him that it would have frightened him, if he had been still capable of feeling fear.

The one who had come to find him was as tall as he was, and clad in a black robe and fur-lined boots just like his own. She was a girl, no more than seventeen years old, and she had the pale, angular face and pointed ears of a dark elf. But her hair, black like his own, was curly. She smiled at him and held out a hand.

'Hello, Father.'

Galbatorix touched her face; it was warm and real. 'Who are you?' he asked in wonder.

The girl laughed. 'Don't you know me, Father?'

'No…'

'I am Lialana Taranisäii. I am your daughter.'

Galbatorix's eyes widened. 'Flell…'

'Yes. Flell's daughter, by you.'

'But you're dead. They killed you after you were born.'

Lialana smiled. 'But you're dead too, Father. And look – everyone came to see you.'

She pointed at the trees all around, and he saw people walking through the forest toward him, appearing from out of the darkness. And he recognised every single one of them. They were all the people he had ever known. A hefty, dark haired man clad in red ambled over to him and clapped him on the back. 'Good to see you again, mate.'

'Morzan!'

'Yeah, that's me, right enough,' said the man. 'All back again now, ain't we?'

Another man came to stand by Morzan; slimmer, taller, with bright blue eyes that matched his clothes. 'Hello, Galbatorix.'

'Brom.'

'Yes,' said Brom. 'All of us.'

They came to him, one by one, smiling and contented, the past all forgotten now. There was a middle-aged man with straw-coloured hair, a shaggy beard and a freckled face.

'Roland! Old Roland!'

'It's good to see you again, lad,' said Roland.

'Did you find the gods, Roland? Were they real?'

'They were real, all right,' said Roland. 'To me. Because I believed. That's all it takes, just as I always said. You ought to know that by now, young man.'

And there were three young riders; two boys and a girl.

'Hello, Master,' said the girl. 'D'you remember me?'

'Kaelyn. Of course I remember you.'

The girl smiled at him. 'Do you remember when you taught me how to sing that dark elvish song?'

'Can you sing it yet?'

Kaelyn shook her head. 'I'm sorry, Master. But the words just wouldn't ever come right for me.'

'I can still swear,' said one of the boys. 'In dark elvish, like you taught me.'

'You watch your language, Gern,' Roland said sternly.

Galbatorix looked around at the people who had once been his friends, his followers. The thirteen Forsworn, all there to meet him, all bright and real, each one haloed by the faint light of their dragons' soul. Tranah and Strein. Vander. Orwyne. Ana and her brother Elric. Lalla. Tuomas, Gern and Kaelyn, who had once been his apprentices. Roland, his face lined and grandfatherly, eyes warm. And then there was Morzan, his oldest friend, and Brom, who had betrayed him, their old enmity now forgotten. And Shruikan. The presence of the black dragon was all around him, fierce and terrible, but protective. Still a part of him, even now.

'We waited for you, sir,' said Tranah.

'So we did,' said Ana.

'We knew you'd come one day,' said Kaelyn. 'You always came when we needed you, didn't you?'

Galbatorix bowed his head. 'I betrayed you,' he said. 'How could you ever forgive me for that?'

'In death, all is forgotten, and all forgiven,' the Forsworn intoned in one voice.

Lialana took hold of his hand. 'Come with me,' she said.

She led him away through the trees among the falling snow, and he found more people waiting for him. They were tall and pale, black haired and black eyed, each one robed and silent, their faces tattooed with blue spirals. At their head were two women. One wore a silver circlet on her brow, and the other was old, clad in silver and leaning on a staff.

Galbatorix bowed his head toward them, and the old woman smiled and gently lifted it again. 'Do not bow to me, Sire,' she said.

'Arthryn. Saethryn. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have-,'

'Do not apologise,' said the woman wearing the circlet. 'It was our time, as we told you. We were content to know that you would live on to remember us. Look there.'

She pointed, and the dark elves silently moved aside to let someone come forward.

Another dark elf, but this one was short and wide-shouldered, almost ungainly, but graceful in a way as well. One of her eyes was covered by a patch.

Galbatorix knelt before her. 'My Lady,' he breathed.

The elf smiled on him. 'Galbatorix, son of Skandar Traeganni. I am honoured to meet you. I am Tynyth Traeganni, the one-eyed. I am your ancestor. Just as I did, you faced those who would blind themselves in their desperation to find enlightenment, and forget to love while they are fighting hate. And you prevailed. Rise, Great King.'

Galbatorix stood. 'I wanted to find-,'

'I know,' said Tynyth. 'See there. They will show you the way.'

She pointed him toward two figures who stood among the crowd. A man and a woman, hand in hand. The man was a dark elf, one who wore a pointed beard like his own, and the woman was human, her brown hair long and curly.

The woman embraced him. 'Galbatorix, my son. My dearest child.'

'You grew so strong, didn't you?' said the man. He smiled. 'My son, my half-breed son. My son, the Great King. We're proud of you. We always were.'

Galbatorix stood before his parents, seeing the love in their eyes. 'Why did it all happen to me?' he asked them. 'Was it really fate? Everything I loved, I lost. Why?'

'It doesn't matter now,' said his mother. 'None of it does. You should not bring mortal concerns here. Forget the past.'

But he could not. He tried, but a strange sound distracted him. It was faint, but it seemed to be coming from all around. He glanced up irritably, wondering where it was coming from, and suddenly realised it was the sound of someone crying. And they were saying a name. A name he knew.

He froze. 'Someone's calling me.'

His mother touched him on the forehead. 'It doesn't matter,' she said. 'Close your ears to it.'

'Where's Laela?' he asked. 'Where is she?'

'She is not here,' said his mother.

'Then where-?'

But the sound would not go away. He could hear it in his ears, distracting him, and it made his heart ache with sudden longing. It was pulling him toward it, taking him away, and he took hold of his mother's hands, suddenly frightened. 'Where am I going, Mother?' he asked. 'What's happening to me?'

She held onto him, her expression suddenly troubled. 'No,' she said. 'Don't go, Galbatorix. We waited so long for you to come, you can't leave.'

But her voice was fading away now, and suddenly he felt drowsy. 'I need to sleep,' he said. 'I'm so tired…'

'Rest, then,' she whispered.

Galbatorix nodded vaguely. Everything around him was growing hazy and unreal, like a dream. 'Yes…'

And then, suddenly, he was lying down in the snow. He felt warm and safe, and he could see the faces of his friends all looking down at him, keeping watch.

'Rest now,' they said. 'You can rest.'

He smiled. 'Yes. I can rest…'

Then he slept, a deep, peaceful, dreamless sleep.

Time passed. Maybe hours. Maybe days. Maybe years. But of course there was no time here. No time for the dead.

And then he heard a voice calling him from somewhere far away in the darkness.

'Galbatorix? It's time to wake up.'

He stirred and yawned. 'Laela? Is that you?'

'Yes. You've rested long enough. Time to get up. Everyone's waiting for you.'

Galbatorix sat up, suddenly aware that he was cold and wet. There was snow all around, and more falling from the sky. He yawned again and stretched. All the pain was gone, and he felt young and strong. His sword was lying by his hand, and he saw that the diamond in the hilt was no longer black, but as clear and sparkling as the day he had found it. And, sitting in the snow and peering up at him, was Laela.

'Laela!' he said, reaching joyfully toward her. 'There you are!'

Laela was a hatchling again, no bigger than she had been on the day when they had first met. She nuzzled his hand, crooning deep in her throat. 'How do you feel?'

'A little tired, but I'm fine.' He smiled and brushed the snow off his robe. 'More than fine. It's all over now, Laela. I can rest. We both can.' He chuckled to himself. 'So, the old man finally kicked off,' he said. 'And just when everyone was starting to think I'd never go. I'll bet plenty of people were glad to see the back of me-,' he froze.

Skade was standing over him, with Kullervo by her side, staring at him in astonishment. He looked at her blankly. 'Skade? What are you doing here?'

He examined his surroundings, and saw everyone standing where they had been before – Ravana, surrounded by his fellow dragons, and the people of Urû'baen, standing in a crowd some way back, watching him. He touched his face, his hair, examined his hands and checked his chest. It was covered in faded silvery scars, but there were no wounds, no blood, no pain.

He looked at Skade again. '…I'm not dead, am I?'

Skade didn't reply. She practically threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around him in a fierce embrace.

Galbatorix held her tightly. 'I'm so sorry, Skade,' he murmured. 'I can't seem to stay dead, can I?'

The white hatchling watched them calmly. The snow around her was littered with fragments of broken stone – the remains of the rock he had carried with him from Ravana's country. No, he realised. Not a stone. An egg.

'So this is Skade,' said Laela. 'Have you been looking after my rider?'

Galbatorix let go of Skade and looked at the little dragon. 'Laela?' he said. 'What are you doing here?'

She fluttered her wings. 'Aren't you happy to see me?'

'Yes, but-,'

Laela rolled onto her back and kicked her legs in the air. 'Yes, but. You haven't changed a bit, have you? Everything's always "yes, but", with you.'

'Yes, but how can you be here? And alive?'

Laela grinned at him. 'Can't seem to stay dead, can I? Every destroyer needs a saviour. I came back for you.'

'How?'

'I learned things in the North too.'

Later, Galbatorix and Skade sat together in the snow and listened to Laela tell her story. 'It was when we were with the dark elves. Arthryn, the old seer… she spoke to me one night when you were asleep. And she told me…' the white dragon paused, her little face solemn. '…She told me you would lose me. She didn't say exactly how, but she told me there was nothing I could do to stop it. That you would lose me and the pain would tear you apart. She told me about your future, and when I knew what would happen to you, I was… I was horrified. I didn't want it to happen, I told her I wouldn't let it. "There's nothing you can do", she said. "All of us are tools of fate". And I couldn't tell you. I wanted to, but… how could I have? I couldn't stop thinking about it.'

Galbatorix listened. 'You were very depressed. I remember that.'

'Of course I was,' said Laela. 'I kept trying to think of a way to stop it… I talked to everyone, asked them for their advice, but they all said the same thing. But then I spoke with Hyrenna. The old dragon, the one who never spoke… she spoke to me. I begged her to tell me a way to save you, and she did. She said; "there is a way. Only one way. But it is a way that will cost you dearly". But I said I didn't care. "He's my rider", I said. "I would die for him". And so she told me what I had to do. It was terrible, just as she said. But I did it anyway.'

'Did what?'

'Tore out my heart,' said Laela. 'And put it into you. My soul. My life-force. I buried it inside you while you were asleep. It cost me my magic, but when they killed me, a part of me lived on in you. Our link survived my death. Just weakly, but it was still there. Watching over you. Waiting. On the day you died, we could be reuinited… but you didn't die. You cheated death, over and over again. But when you came to Ravana's country, there was so much magic in the air there that it allowed me to come back, just briefly. And before I was dragged back, I worked my magic through you to create the egg. When you died, it gave me my chance. I came back into the world of the living as you left it, and went into the egg. Then I was reborn. And you…' she grinned. 'You followed me back, didn't you?' She sat back on her haunches, wrapping her tail around her claws. 'And here I am. Come back into the world to find you again.'

Galbatorix picked her up off the ground and hugged her to his chest, his eyes full of tears. She wriggled out of his grasp and climbed onto his shoulder, anchoring herself there with her claws. 'Now then, you big softy,' she said. 'No need to crush me to death.'

Galbatorix grinned, and his tired old face suddenly looked a hundred years younger. 'And here I thought I was going to meet you again in the afterlife.' He looked at Skade. 'It's over, Skade. All of it. No more fighting, no more killing. We can live now. As we should do.'

'Yes,' said Skade. 'As we should.'

Ravana had listened to all this in silence. Now he stirred and said; 'I am pleased to see you well again, human with a thousand lives. My daughter would not have been content without you by her side. But the rulership of this land is mine.'

There was a tense silence. Galbatorix stood up, Laela perched on his shoulder. Then he bowed to Ravana. 'My Lord,' he said. 'Sire. The throne is yours. Alagaësia is a land of dragons. It needs a ruler who is wise and powerful, and no-one is wiser or more powerful than you. My time is over. Now yours is beginning, King Ravana, greatest of dragons.'

That seemed to please Ravana. 'Yes. But what about the riders? You said they were returning.'

'They are,' said Skade. 'Two more have come. And there will be others. They'll want to rule, Father. It's inevitable.'

'The riders shall rule this land,' said Ravana. 'And I shall rule the riders. They will answer to me. These will be riders of my making, not of the old ways. They shall be led by their dragons. Not by the elves.' He turned away to face the endless ranks of his own kind, his huge dark form towering over all of them, and roared.

Thousands of voices answered him. Every dragon raised its head and roared back, and then Ravana spoke, letting everyone hear his great voice. 'Dragons! This is the coming of your time. No more will elf and human dominate this land. Alagaësia is yours. I give it to you. Make your territories wherever you choose, let humans be your brothers, not your masters. Dragons of Alagaësia, let your voices be heard!'

And the dragons roared. They answered their master's command with all the ferocity and power their voices could muster, and then flew away, flying up and over the city to disappear in every direction, away over the land.

Kullervo watched them go, his expression full of longing. 'I would give anything to go with them,' he said.

'You shall, my son,' said Ravana.

Kullervo bowed his head, his whole demeanour one of deep and terrible shame. 'I can't,' he said. 'A human does not fly.'

'You are no human, Kullervo,' said Ravana. 'I shall undo the spell and change you back.'

Kullervo looked up at his father, and then suddenly fell to his knees in the snow, tearing at his hair. 'You can't,' he sobbed. 'No-one can. The spell is irreversible. I will be trapped in this hideous form for the rest of my life.'

Ravana said nothing. He touched his son's head with his snout, and put forth his magic. It was black magic, black as his scales. It didn't glow like ordinary magic; it was a darkness imposed on the world, that made all else around it appear the brighter. The magic enveloped Kullervo, covering every inch of him. His outline rippled slightly, and his hands twitched.

Then he screamed. He fell forward onto the snow, convulsing and making horrible, animalistic screeches of agony. Galbatorix and Skade, looking on, cringed.

As the magic continued to move over Kullervo's body without any apparent effect beyond simply tormenting him, Skade couldn't take it any longer. 'Stop it!' she screamed. 'Father, stop it!'

Ravana withdrew his snout. The magic faded, and left Kullervo sprawled on the ground, his back heaving, completely unchanged. Before they could make a move to help him, he pulled himself into a kneeling position and looked at his hands. A terrible cry of despair escaped him, and he began to claw at his own face, as if trying to tear it off. But then, in the midst of it all, he was disturbed by a pair of hands that took hold of his shoulders.

Together, Skade and Galbatorix lifted him to his feet, pulling his hands away from his face to stop him from hurting himself.

'Let go of me!' Kullervo screamed.

'No,' said Skade. 'You're my brother, Kullervo. Be still.'

Kullervo glared at her, unable to stop the tears from flowing down his face, mingling with blood. 'Let me go, Skade,' he said hoarsely. 'Let me die.'

'No,' this time it was Ravana who spoke. The giant dragon looked his son in the eye, his brutal face almost gentle of expression. 'You are my son, human or no. Nothing will ever change that. I am proud of you, Kullervo.'

Kullervo wrenched himself away from Skade and Galbatorix. 'I'm not your son any more!' he screamed. 'I'm nothing! Nothing!' With that last cry, he ran away through the snow, as if he could escape from himself.

It was all for nothing. He got only a short distance before he staggered and fell, too weakened from his ordeal to go any further. Skade and Galbatorix ran to him. Before they got there, Laela launched herself from her perch, landing by Kullervo's side. She nudged him with her snout, crooning deep in her throat, and he looked dully at her.

Galbatorix and Skade lifted the lord of dragons off the ground between them, and this time he made no effort to resist.

'We'll take care of him, Sire,' Galbatorix told Ravana, and helped Skade carry him back into the city. Laela caught up with Galbatorix and climbed up his robe and back onto his shoulder, where she perched, her silver eyes bright.

They returned to the castle more or less unhindered, and in spite of his fatigue Galbatorix did what he always did in these situations: he took charge.

The remaining guards in the castle were quick to subordinate themselves to him again, and in what seemed no time at all he had sent them off in every direction to carry out his orders. In short order, the city had been brought back under control and Galbatorix was in the throne room with Skade and Laela, standing by Eragon's body.

The column of magic had faded away by now, and Eragon's corpse lay discarded on the floor as if it were nothing more than a piece of garbage. Galbatorix inspected it, taking in the pale, still-contorted features without any expression showing in his mismatched eyes.

Skade stood by him. 'Did you intend to kill him?' she asked.

Galbatorix glanced up at her. 'Yes. Does that bother you?'

Skade paused. 'It wasn't very honourable of you.'

Galbatorix shrugged. 'The boy deserved it. If he'd been allowed to live, he would have done nothing but cause trouble for the both of us. Do you think he'd have accepted the new order, or the new King? Never. And some people still look up to him. It's best for all of us to have him out of the way.'

He turned to the pair of guards who had accompanied them into the room. 'Do either of you know if there's a herbalist anywhere in the city?'

'Yes, Sire,' said one of them. 'There's one in the castle. Shall I fetch her?'

'Yes. And while you're at it, send for the tailor, would you?'

The guard saluted and hurried away. When he returned, he was accompanied by a rather short woman who had a mass of curly brown hair and a quirky, freckled face.

She and Galbatorix regarded each other for some time.

'You!' said the woman.

'Angela of the Werecats,' said Galbatorix. 'Good gods. What are you doing here? I thought you would have had the sense to get out of the city.'

'I was working as a spy for the rebels,' said Angela. 'No point in concealing it now… but what are you doing here? I thought you were dead! And-,' she saw the body on the floor, and her face fell. 'Oh no. Eragon! What did you do to him?'

'Killed him,' Galbatorix said briefly. 'Stab wound through the stomach. Guards… this woman was a Varden sympathiser and a traitor. Let her attend to the body, but don't let her out of your sight. Once she's done her job, kindly escort her to the dungeons.'

Angela gaped at him. 'You can't do this! I saved your life!'

Galbatorix looked at her coldly. 'Prepare the boy's body for burial. I'll deal with you later.'

He and Skade left her there with a guard watching over her, and exited the throne room. Outside they found the royal tailor waiting for them. She was an improbably hefty middle-aged woman who wore an eyepatch and who bowed rather than curtsied to her King and Queen.

'Good to see you back, Your Majesties,' she said, as if they'd just returned from a day out. 'What can I do for you?'

'I'd like you make me a new robe,' said Galbatorix. 'You know the style I prefer.'

The tailor nodded. 'Black, I presume?'

Galbatorix paused. 'I think I'll go with white this time.'

'Right,' said the tailor. 'I think I've got the perfect fabric already. I'll have it ready in a couple of hours. Anything else you need?' she looked at Skade.

Skade barely paused to think about it. 'Whatever you think would suit me,' she said. 'In silver.'

'Right you are, Your Majesty,' said the tailor. 'I'll have it done in a jiffy.' She nodded politely to the two of them, and strode off.

Skade watched her go. 'You never did tell me how she lost her eye.'

'A tavern fight, I think,' said Galbatorix. 'A bit strange, yes, but as tailors go she's one of the best. Now… I'm going upstairs for a bath and a shave. I should probably have a haircut, too. I feel like I've got a small furry animal nesting on my head.'

'Shall I come with you?' said Skade.

Galbatorix paused. 'No… not right now. I'm feeling quite tired. You have a wash and neaten yourself up, and we'll meet afterwards and have something to eat. All right?'

Skade nodded. 'Fine… I'll see you later.'

Galbatorix walked off, Laela still perched on his shoulder. It was strange, Skade thought. They'd hardly spoken to each other, at least not out loud, but they looked so natural together, in a way that went far beyond what it had been like with Shruikan. Her brother had been Galbatorix's closest friend and the two had worked well together, but this was something else. This was the true pairing of a rider and a dragon. Two bodies, one soul.

To her surprise, Skade found she was feeling jealous.

Almost instantly, the feeling made her ashamed. Laela hadn't done anything wrong. But still… Skade scowled and turned away.