Chapter 9

Murtagh scowled at the pieces of paper which he'd carefully arranged to recreate Medea's note. It read: 'Meet me in my room after midnight'. Murtagh spent ten minutes pondering over the possible reasons why she would want to see him, and another five minutes consulting Thorn, who soon grew bored and rather wisely pretended to be asleep. It was several minutes to midnight and Murtagh was growing frustrated, unable to decide whether he should go or not.

The sudden sound of glass shattering and shouting raised him from his stupor. He jumped up, happy to have a distraction, and looked out of the window overlooking the courtyard, where the noise seemed to be coming from. Outside, dozens of archers were running around chaotically, shooting at something above them. Squinting into the darkness, Murtagh saw a flash of bright blue in the sky, moving away from the palace swiftly. He couldn't make out its shape, yet it was clear that it was a danger, judging by the palace guards' frantic reactions.

Suddenly flame erupted in the middle of the courtyard, sending the guards into panic. It took Murtagh a moment to realize that the fire came from the sky.

'Thorn?'

'Yes. I saw that.'

'That couldn't have been…?'

'It was, young one. And another thing…'

Murtagh tensed.

'They took Medea.'

The first thing Medea was aware of was the uncomfortable heat in her side. Still in a drowsy state, she wondered fleetingly where it was coming from, and, just as quickly as the thought came, it passed, as she started to regain her senses. She could just make out the quiet sound of footsteps, which reached her as if through a thick blanket. Lifting one heavy hand, she rubbed her eyes, attempting to keep them open long enough to see who the footsteps belonged to; her movement seemed to have caught the person's attention and they stopped pacing.

'Medea?' a vaguely familiar male voice called. 'Can you hear me?'

'Mm-hm,' Medea managed to mumble, trying to sit up. Her head immediately started spinning. 'What the…?'

'Wait, let me help you,' the man said, carefully pulling her into a sitting position. His face slowly came into focus, and she realized with a start why his voice sounded familiar.

'Eragon?'

The Rider grinned. Medea looked around to see Saphira curled up behind her, which explained the heat she felt earlier. The dragon nudged Medea with her nose in greeting, and she smiled. 'It's good to see you, Saphira,' she turned back to Eragon. 'What are you doing here, though?'

'Doing a favour for Nasuada, mainly,' he replied, 'and in the meantime saving you from Prince Psychopath.'

Medea raised an eyebrow, amused. 'Who?'

'Sared, who else,' Eragon grumbled. 'You can thank him and his little potions for your present state. How are you feeling?'

'Not great,' she admitted, carefully stretching out her aching legs. 'What happened? And how do you even know Sared?'

'Let me start from the beginning, so I don't confuse you.' Eragon offered, sitting down opposite her. When she nodded, he continued, 'Do you know anything about Seleara?'

Medea rolled her eyes. 'Yes, it's a legend. Which my father apparently believes, since he sent Murtagh to find out from Sared where it is.'

'Well, according to the legend, a prince found it in the Hadarac desert. Sared comes from the only royal family who have ever lived there, which, unsurprisingly, led people to believe that the flower could still be in their possession. They denied it, but that didn't really convince anyone.'

'But why do people think that the legend has to be true?' Medea interrupted. 'Can't it be just a story?'

Eragon stared at her, his expression almost offended. 'That would be so boring.'

Medea smirked. 'Sorry. Go on.'

'Well, as I was saying,' Eragon continued in a dignified tone, 'people talk. Galbatorix listens. He sent Murtagh to find out whether or not Sared has the flower, probably not really expecting a truthful answer – Nasuada thinks that Murtagh is supposed to find it himself, possibly with your help.'

Medea held up her hand, frowning in confusion. 'Wait, what do I have to do with this?'

'You're Sared's wife,' the Rider said slowly, as if stating the obvious.

'Yes but that doesn't mean he'd tell me his family secret,' she replied impatiently. 'We didn't speak to each other much.' To prevent further questions, she asked, 'How does the Varden know about all this?'

'We have connections,' Eragon answered vaguely. 'Nasuada asked me and Saphira to follow Murtagh and Thorn in case they succeeded in getting Seleara – we were to do what we can to prevent them from delivering it to Galbatorix. You know how much more havoc he could cause if he was immortal,' he added, glancing at Medea apologetically. She averted her gaze. 'We took a position quite far away from the palace, just to be careful. I reckoned that we wouldn't be able to see Murtagh and Thorn leaving from there, because they would fly in the other direction and the palace could shield them from view. Saphira disagreed but eventually I persuaded her to wait until nightfall and fly to the other side of the palace so we wouldn't be seen. On the way, Saphira saw you and Sared in one of the windows.'

Medea felt bile coming up to her throat.

'We figured he drugged you because you staggered backwards and started to fall, already almost unconscious. And then when he tried to take advantage of you in this state... I couldn't just do nothing,' he said quietly, almost defensively. 'And Nasuada will probably kill me for this,' he added.

Medea swallowed. 'Did he..? Um...'

Eragon continued to look at her, clearly not understanding.

'Did you see if he had a chance to... take advantage of me?' she cringed at even saying the words.

He shook his head vigorously. 'Oh. No. Saphira and I got there in time.'

Relieved, Medea reached out and placed her hand on top of his, squeezing his fingers slightly. 'Thank you. And you, Saphira,' she said to the dragon, who inclined her head in recognition of her words. 'You didn't have to do this, and I'm very grateful to you both. I'm sorry your plan failed because of me.'

Eragon shrugged. 'We'll try to intercept Murtagh and Thorn somewhere else.' He paused for a moment, 'But first we need to decide what to do with you. I assume you don't want to go back to the palace,' Medea shook her head furiously. 'Thought so. Maybe we could take you to the Varden? I could ask Nasuada to let you stay there and neither your father nor Sared would even know where you are.'

Medea raised an eyebrow. 'I don't know if you remember who my father is?'

'We can argue forever but without trying we won't get anywhere. The worst that can happen is that Nasuada will refuse to let you stay, but even then I'm sure I can think of something else to help you. What other choice do you have, really?'

Medea didn't reply for a moment, considering her choices. She could go back to Sared and live in a loveless, abusive marriage for the rest of her life.
Or she could come with Eragon and face uncertainty, which scared her a lot less.

'You know,' she finally spoke, 'I think I'll come with you.'

A.N.: Thank you so much, everyone, for reading! I had no idea that so many people liked this story and it's amazing for me to read all your lovely reviews! Unfortunately I barely had time to write this year as this website keeps getting blocked and unblocked in my college for some reason, but I'm doing my best to update as often as I can.
Montecat - in several books I read, the authors used ' and not " for text, which is why I'm doing the same.
Phantom – thank you so much! Sorry I upset you:) And your English is perfect:)