I yawned uncharacteristically loudly as I followed Murtagh out of the dining hall, and he smirked, "Did I keep you up too late last night, m'lady?" I grunted in response, deciding instead to forget everything about last night. Looking back on it, it seemed more like a girlish fantasy, anyway; a dream more than something that actually happened. There's no way that I sat up and talked with Murtagh and Thorn while Emerson slept soundly. It's just weird; Emerson would've heard and freaked out, or something.

I turned suddenly on Murtagh, resulting in his staggering sideways, away from me. "I'm going to go riding today." Murtagh's brow furrowed, obviously trying to place what I'd just told him in any part of the conversation that we'd been having. But it doesn't fit, I know that; I'm trying to spend a day away from him, and I am completely aware of the fact that if I don't tell him something else, I'll just end up hanging out with him in the library. I have to tell him, because otherwise I won't commit.

Won't commit to what, child? Immediately, the past few moments flashed through my mind, and I fought to keep Emerson from seeing anymore. I dare anyone to tell me that he'll be pleased that I spend all last night with Murtagh and Thorn, "Just chillin'." He'd eat Thorn before he let it happen again, and before you know it Emerson is pulling all-nighters to monitor my social life and I have to figure out how to force him to sleep.

"Alright… I hope Emerson knows about it." Murtagh was at a loss for words, but Emerson had more than enough to say, mostly because he knew that I meant I was going to ride Pappy, not Emerson. To me, it makes sense; I haven't ridden him since I got here, and lord knows when they let him out to run around in a field. "I admire your work ethic."

You are not riding that horse! I can feel his energy from here – HE'S CRAZY!

"No, no," I rushed, ignoring Emerson for the moment; Murtagh was easier to respond to, even if it means that I could catch his eyes and have to hide numerous physical reactions from Emerson, which is harder than responding to Emerson anyway. "I meant ride my horse." I have to ride him because he's crazy, Emerson; he won't calm down spinning in circles in his stall. He has to be ridden.

"You are not riding that horse," Murtagh asserted, and I shivered at the not just similarity, but the exact repetition of the rules. Of course, Emerson said it because he cares about me and doesn't want me to get hurt; I have no idea why Murtagh said it, and I don't want to stand here guessing why and getting myself excited like a teenage girl whose crush just smiled asked her for a pencil.

Her what?!

My eyes widened when I realized that Emerson had just heard why I said, and in my panic I blurted out my response, "It's just a saying!" For one second, everything around me and inside my head was silent, and I was able to realize what I'd just done. "I, uh, sorry." I turned, sucking momentarily at my teeth as I continued walking with Murtagh. "I'm talking with Emerson in my head, and, uh, that kind of just came out." Murtagh's eyebrows were raised, making it very painfully obvious that he thought I was a freak. My heart broke a little as I turned internally towards the stables, Let me finish with Murtagh first, alright? Making it very clear that Emerson was annoyed with taking a back seat to someone he considered to be the evil incarnate, and someone who I should consider to be the evil incarnate, Emerson resigned to listening in on my life. "I very well can ride that horse – I've been riding him since he was three."

"We have no suitable saddles for you to ride him in; besides, the tailor said he might come by later today with a few dresses for you to try on." My immediate reaction to Murtagh's arguments was to laugh; I held it in, but just barely. Obviously, he doesn't know who he's talking to.

Let's keep it that way.

Emerson's annoyance cut off any semblance of good humor that I would've been able to manage, and instead I was forced to pretend to be just as annoyed as Emerson honestly felt, "I've known that horse long enough to not need a saddle. I don't need your permission to ride my own horse."

"You don't need my permission, but I could always decide that I don't trust your having any sort of freedom and lock you in your room."

Alright, now I'm feeling actually offended. Somehow in our meandering, we had made our way to Murtagh's private library. He turned to face me, his facial expression remaining calm and unaffected as I started to hiss in anger at him, "How dare you say that I'm untrustworthy! What do I have to do to gain some of your respect, anymore? You come home from your deranged king, and instead of leaving I sit at your bedside and try to help you! You give me millions of chances to run away everyday and I never once consider it!"

You should; we've learned almost everything they can teach us, I think.

"How long are you going to hold healing over my head before you let it go? Do you think you're some saint? That I should bow to you and your unworldly goodness?" Murtagh's voice was low and controlled, revealing more emotion than his stoic face could; he was angry, bitter. For the first time in a long time, possibly ever, I was honestly scared of Murtagh.

My heart froze before I shook it off; there was no reason to be scared of Murtagh. Even if he looks menacing, I know better. He's like my rock; he's the only reason I'm surviving at all. "You know what I'm trying to say." I was amazed at how I managed to match his bitterness, his threatening tone. It's honestly a little unnerving. Where did that even come from? I feel fine.

For a moment, Murtagh's eyes met mine in a heated gaze, and I considered possible things that could result from this one intense stare. It's liking after asking to borrow my pencil, he's commenting on some inexplicable doodle on my notebook, or whatever it is happened back home. I'm… well, the world's slowly tilting and turning the more I look at Murtagh like this. I should stop.

Yes, you should. Emerson was bitter, but less angry than Murtagh was or I'd sounded. But it shook me enough that I could break the eye contact, even if I felt physically pained at the loss. I don't, but even if I did I could.

"I'll be riding, first in the courtyard and then, once Pappy calms down, I'm taking him out to ride in the desert. If you need me… I don't know, find me." With that, I turned and quickly headed down the hall. See, that's what I meant when I said that if I didn't make it very clear that I wasn't staying and hanging out for the day, some other things would happen.

I can't believe what I just witnessed; how did you let this happen?! Emerson's panic very desperately wanted to spread through me, but I'm dealing with something else. Now that Emerson knows, can I deny that I actually have feelings for Murtagh? Silently, I made a deal with myself – if I can convince Emerson, who is in my mind almost every moment of the day and knows me better than I do, that I don't have feelings for Murtagh, than I don't and that's the end of it. But if he doesn't believe me, then I have to admit it.

Nothing, I started off, Murtagh and I looked at each other; there was nothing special about it. Heh, I wouldn't even be fooling my mother yet, and she's an idiot. At least, an idiot with me.

And what of everything else that I saw, what I know you felt? Ugh, why can't Emerson be dumb like my mother? Was that nothing, too? I nodded stubbornly, hearing his snort as I entered the stable. I was quite aware of the fact that Emerson hadn't seen my nod, but I didn't care; he got the message.

Murtagh. I growled as a few select images flashed through my mind, leaning over Pappy's neck and enjoying him without his jittery, excited energy. Currently we were cantering around the bottom of what can only be described as a valley. Emerson sat at the top of the side of the valley that was in the direction of the castle, determined to prove that I was hiding my feelings for Murtagh from him. Normally, I'd think this was all very picturesque, except for the fact that Emerson isn't doing it so that I can admit my feelings and confront Murtagh; Emerson's doing it so that he can prove that it's time for us to leave, which I'm not alright with. Emerson may have learned everything he feels he can from Thorn, but I can barely float a pebble.

I told you, I don't feel anything for him except for contempt; I'm with you a hundred percent. He's evil! I flinched; Murtagh wasn't evil. Even if his… intensity had scared me earlier, I felt safe with him; he wouldn't hurt me. It's not like he's a vampire, or something. He doesn't crave my blood – he thinks that a monarchy is better than anarchy. I'm not… completely disinclined to agree.

Then why can't we leave? Let's go right now.

I physically shook my head as I straightened my back, pulling Pappy down to a trot and then a walk, We have no supplies and no idea which way South is. We leave now and we'll be captured again before we reach Surda.

At least I'll know where your loyalties lie.

My jaw dropped as I turned, my legs flipping to face backwards and see Emerson, I can't believe you said that! It's like Murtagh accusing me of being untrustworthy, only worse because Emerson is my dragon, and way more important to me than anything else in this world. I… I…

That was uncalled for, and I apologize, but even if you do have feelings for Murtagh, you need to remember what's important. Even if he is dark and in some bizarre way attractive, I still can't shake the feeling that he's hiding things from us. I sighed; I'm not going to be able to convince Emerson that I don't like Murtagh, which according to my previous deal with myself means that I… like Murtagh. Oh… fudge.

Pouting, I rotated again, taking a hold of Pappy's reins and letting myself collapse onto his neck. We were both tired, but I don't want to go back to the castle now. It's the first night I realized that attraction to Murtagh was a possibility all over again. Only, well, worse; now it's not just a possibility, it's fact. I can't deny it, I can't fight it, it's just there, sitting in the pit of my stomach like a rock.

Do you think we should be getting back? I wanted to get some lunch before we left. But also key is the fact that I don't want to eat lunch with Murtagh. That's just a bad decision, and who knowingly makes a bad decision? Not me, not anymore; Garrett was a bad decision, and look where that led me. So even if these feelings aren't just some delusion of mine, they aren't actually going to… affect anything. Murtagh is my teacher, my captor, my jail warden, etc. He is not boyfriend material.

My meat will be cold no matter when we leave now, so all I can suggest is that we start to head back to the castle before dusk. I rolled my eyes – Emerson: wise, thoughtful, and indecisive. Except when it comes to Murtagh. But that's good because I'm very indecisive about him. And when I am decisive… it's bad. I make bad decisions a lot, and that's stopping now. I'll check with Emerson before I do anything.

Thanks. Thanks a lot.

Murtagh grunted as he lashed his sword downwards at the Urgal, who raised his shield and grunted in return. It's useless, Thorn. Murtagh turned as he slashed upwards, knocking the Urgals shield away, leaving the Urgal to stab down at the Rider with his spear. You can't make me admit to something that is simply not true.

Thorn sat carefully on the sidelines of the battle, his claws tucked carefully out of the way of the sparring boy and Urgal. He shook his head lightly, and Murtagh silently scolded the dragon for the physical component of the conversation. Thorn continued, despite his other half's disapproval, Well, it's good that that's not what I'm trying to do; I'm trying to make you admit to something that is very real.

Murtagh snorted as he continued to dodge and run from the very angry Urgal, too distracted by his conversation with Thorn to be able to turn and attack. I don't have feelings for the Lady Liaden! It's simply not possible. Thorn's snort resulted in enough smoke to distract the Urgal, and Murtagh seized his opportunity to turn and stab his opponent in the chest.

The Urgal, completely unharmed, staggered backwards before bowing out of the courtyard. Exhausted, Murtagh staggered towards his dragon and fell to sit next to his dragon, his legs buckling from the effort he'd put into fighting. Wherever this pent up frustration had come from, he'd just let it out on that poor Urgal. It's very possible. Thorn slowly readjusted his legs to spread out in front of him. I don't know why you're so angry; just because you have feelings for her doesn't mean that the world will fall from under you. Maybe it'll make you more determined to find a way out of Galbatorix's rule.

Or put us on the fast track to being executed, Murtagh responded sarcastically, wiping at his forehead and squinting at the door across the courtyard as it opened. He'd chosen specifically to have his sparring session in the front courtyard because it was bigger, and hadn't considered the idea that someone might drop by.

Watching as she rode in, looking very carefree and happy and attractive in the mid-afternoon sun, the male Rider had to remind himself to breathe. Something about her at that moment was indescribably irresistible; she was leaning back on her bareback horse, her toes pointing the wrong way and only using one hand to steer her large, bay horse.

Emerson plodded along next to her, and it was him that she was looking at before they turned, obviously planning to head straight to the stable through the archway in the first floor. As if it were an afterthought, Liaden turned and waved at him. Half-heartedly, Murtagh raised his own hand in response, trying to mask the adrenaline that was forcing it to shake.

That's not adrenaline, Murtagh.

The Rider sighed as he fall back onto the shaking hand, his calf twitching sporadically. He wanted to shake his head and disagree – adrenaline was a perfectly acceptable explanation for why he'd been shaking – but his entire body wanted to collapse, and he couldn't deny that, once the frustration and anger had been drained from him, he was actually happy to see Liaden come back. He wanted her here.

I sighed as I sat there, watching as Emerson and Thorn milled around, Thorn itching to fly across the lake and work on breathing fire with Emerson. Emerson, on the other hand, doesn't want to leave; he's feeling particularly protective of me tonight, especially because of my realization from earlier this afternoon. Why would he want to leave me here with his least favorite person in the world just so I can slowly fall for him?

Thorn nudged Emerson with his head, but Emerson continued to stay close to me, staring at Murtagh and trying to break into his mind. I'm sure Thorn knows what's going on – I've seen that dragon figure out much weirder things from much less information than this. My student, we must be leaving. Plans have changed; tonight, we breathe fire.

Emerson nodded at his teacher before arching his neck back at me, I have to go.

I rolled my eyes; I'm not nearly as worried as he is. I have a semblance of self-control, and I'm confident. Then go already.

I don't want to leave you alone with him. I shook my head, once again rolling my eyes. Does Emerson realize that he's just making things worse by staying? Just… Emerson glanced awkwardly between Murtagh and myself, making it even more painfully obvious that we were talking about the Rider, Just promise me that nothing will happen, please?

I wanted to roll my eyes for the third time, and had half a mind to, but I restrained myself. What Emerson was asking was actually a little serious. And I should taking him seriously. Of course nothing will happen, Emerson; you have my word.

My eyes itched as I stared at the fist-sized rock sitting by the lake, which I was supposed to be flipping through the air. But I'm tired, and so is Murtagh, so really we're just kind of sitting and staring and making believe that the rock is flipping through the air. "You know what I wonder?"

Murtagh yawned, "Why I didn't just cancel the lesson so we could catch up on our sleep?" I shook my head, and my teacher snorted in response, "That's all I'm thinking about."

"I'm wondering about your parents." I wasn't quite sure why, but that was the complete and total truth. "And I'm wondering what they did to make you who you are."

I could sense Murtagh's tensing; he's been strangely open tonight. "I…" He paused, clearing his throat, before trying again, this time sounding amused and careless, "Who I am?"

I nodded again, deciding last-minute to elaborate, "You know – who you are to the world; stoic, angry, sans reaction."

"Sans?"

"Means without – slang from New York." Or, you know, a real word from the French language. It's all the same.

Murtagh nodded, "What I learned from my childhood is to protect what you have with everything you have, except yourself." His… candidness shocked me into silence. Technically, it wasn't what I was asking, but it was close enough that I could actually make believe that he'd answered the question completely. And then… and then what he'd said actually hit me.

"That sounds absolutely horrible." The words spilled from my mouth before I could stop them, and I felt myself start to blush; oh God, I'm blushing. "I mean, I was with you, up to the part where you said 'except yourself.' I mean…" How can I say what I want to say without making it painfully obvious that I like him, while also not offending him. "Don't you think there are some things worth dying for?"

Murtagh's response was immediate, "Pft. Like what?"

"Love."

The moment I said it, the tension was in all seriousness tangible. Like the string from me to Murtagh was suddenly pulled tight, and I wanted to sink into the sand and die so that I wouldn't have to keep up with this conversation. I wasn't just blushing – I was burning. If I were Emerson, I'd be able to breathe fire. Hell, I think I have sympathy for him at this point. It's painful, to have this internal fire burning inside of me.

A few seconds later, the silence was broken by a quiet roar rolling across the lake. I screamed at what I saw – green flames. GREEN FLAMES! They were beautiful; they shone in the darkness like some exploding star, but still; what does that mean? Did Emerson just internally combust, or should the flames he's breathing be green? "Murtagh?" My voice was unabashedly panicked, but Emerson's my dragon, damn it! "Murtagh, should Emerson be breathing flames that color?"

I started sucking at my teeth and tensing one of my limbs at a time to work off some of the nervous energy that was coursing through me, mostly from the tension that was still very obvious between Murtagh and I, but a good portion of it being owed to the fact that my dragon just started to breathe fire. I realized that it was necessary to look somewhere else, anywhere else, I turned to Murtagh, him being the only other thing worth looking at on the entire landscape.

It was a mistake to look at him – Emerson's flames were growing miraculously, and some of the light was spilling onto Murtagh's face, a medium-shaded green and defining his strong features so that he resembled a fallen angel. He was… beautiful. I've come to the realization so often, and yet it still struck me. He was… beautiful. Gorgeous. Breathtaking.

He was thoughtful, but the corners of his lips were slightly angled upwards, "I thought his flame would be darker, but then again it is the middle of the night, and you should be proud that his flame is bright enough to be seen from across the lake with any clear definition of shape or color. But he seems to have quite… astonishing control over his flame. You do realize this means he's mature, right? He'll want a mate, soon, or he'll be thinking about it, if he's anything like Thorn was."

And… there's the tension. Mentioning mating was just a bad idea, but then again he doesn't realize at all what is going on inside my head. I'm sure he feels the tension, though; this tension is like… syrup mixing with the air in a bubble around us. If I keep this up, he'll be sure to know, which directly contradicts the promise I made to Emerson all of an hour ago. Murtagh can't know, so I should probably find a way to break the tension.

"So…" Great, now I need to follow that up.

After what felt like an eternity, which of course would translate to only a few moments, Murtagh leaned forward and flicked a piece of hair out of my face, leaving me gasping for air and blushing. This is completely ridiculous. I'm eighteen, for heaven's sake! I shouldn't be acting like a thirteen year old girl whose cute gym teacher is helping her with her volleyball spike. I bit my lip as I sat there, continuing to burn in embarrassment as Emerson slowly started to fly towards us from across the lake. Lesson's over, I guess.

"I… I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that." Murtagh sounded absolutely horrified, and I was about to give into my natural inclination to tell him not to worry about it, that he didn't do anything wrong, but before I could say anything Emerson finally touched my mind, maybe halfway across the lake, Did you see my flame, Liaden? I breathed fire!

You talk too much – maybe that's your way of breaking up the silence that fills you up
But it doesn't sound the same when no one's really listening
We stumble into our lives, reach for a hand to hold
And any wonder; we need to find a certain something, certain
Turn out the light and what are you left with?
Open up my hands and find out they're empty
Press my face to the ground, I've got to find a reason
Just scratching around for something to believe in

Something to Believe In by Aqualung