6. Bested

Eragon kept hold of Arya's hand as they flew across the land, heading toward a canyon between the peaks surrounding Lake Arya. They nimbly dodged obstacles in the landscape, keeping up the impossible pace until Eragon felt Arya struggling to stay with him. He slowed and glanced back in concern.

Arya slowed even further. She was breathing heavily, though she tried not to. After a few moments of catching her breath, she looked at him in consternation. "You're now faster than I am." Eragon could tell it frustrated her to admit it, but there was no way around it.

"No, I'm sure that's not true. Perhaps it's only because you've been out of practice due to your discomfort with the cold," he said in an effort to soothe her irritation.

"That's gallant of you, Eragon, but even if I were in peak physical condition right now, your increased stature has given you the advantage. You're as tall as the tallest elves and have our grace and speed, but with the additional power afforded you by your extra muscle. You have bested me." Her annoyance was evident.

"I never meant to," Eragon said with a slight smile, not wanting her to be upset. "I suppose the height we grow to is one thing we really have no control over."

"True," she admitted, but Eragon knew her competitive streak wouldn't allow her to be satisfied when she added, "Perhaps we're still equally matched in swordsmanship."

"I have no doubt of it," he agreed. "Though I believe it's a stretch to imply that we were ever equally matched. You were always far superior, even at the end, for you knew how best to exploit my weaknesses. Or my main weakness rather. Which was you." This seemed to bring Arya some small measure of gratification, and she smiled smugly at the memories. "We could practice when we get to the lake where I left Brisingr," Eragon suggested, hoping his sword wouldn't ignite when he named it from this distance. Otherwise Saphira's saddlebags would be charred ash by the time they arrived.

"Very well," Arya allowed, still sour.

Eragon raised his hands, wishing for peace. "I'm sorry, Arya. I truly do not mean to upset you. I can see this greatly bothers you, but it seems appropriate to me. What good would I be to you as a husband if I couldn't protect you better than you yourself could, were you ever in need of it? I should be stronger and faster so I can do just that. It's not a weakness to need each other. You know I'd never use it against you."

Arya regarded him carefully until her expression softened. "Yes, I know that. But for the most part I've always had to take care of myself. Feeling like I needed to depend on someone else seemed an inexcusable weakness, and that notion has been stubbornly resurfacing over the past several days. I always tried to be the best at everything I could be so I wouldn't find myself in such a regrettable circumstance. But even then, it didn't always work. Like with Durza, for example."

Eragon shook his head at the memory. Then Arya continued, awareness dawning on her as she spoke. "And even when there was no question that I was faster, stronger, and more skilled, you still rescued me from certain death and nearly sacrificed your own life to get me to the Varden in time."

"But then I had help," Eragon protested. "Murtagh, Saphira. I couldn't have done it without them."

"True, but Murtagh didn't want to take the time to come after me. It was you, Eragon. You were my savior. And I can see that you have wanted to be ever since and wished I would have allowed you to, though you knew I really couldn't when I was more capable. But now you truly are capable in every possible way of protecting me better than I could."

"Save with magic and the sword, most likely," Eragon modestly asserted, shifting uncomfortably by the turn in conversation as her irritation changed to such unabashed praise.

"We'll still have to see about the sword," Arya said with a rueful smile. "I'm sure the many years of practice with Murtagh, Blödhgarm, and the other elves, along with the instruction of the Eldunarí, have allowed you to achieve great improvements there as well. With my condition being what it was, it was difficult to keep up my swordsmanship."

There was no way Eragon was going to mention that he truly had improved just as she was saying and was undeniably the best swordsman of any of the inhabitants on the island. His gains in strength and power had helped him there as much as in running. And in exactly the same way that his studies in Ellesméra became more disciplined as he sought to forget Arya after his reckless confession during the Blood-oath Celebration, he had focused intently on anything to distract him in her absence, which had driven him to greater mastery than he would have otherwise achieved.

Arya stepped to him and put her arms around his waist. "I'm sorry I overreacted," she contritely said, lifting her chin so she could see him. "Will you forgive me?"

Eragon raised his eyebrows at the ridiculous question but nonetheless answered, "Of course I forgive you, if it makes you feel better, though I don't think your behavior was that objectionable." He placed his arms around her back and kissed her forehead. Then, before she could kiss his lips in return, he turned his face so his cheek rested on her hair.

Though subtle, Eragon knew his deliberate avoidance of her lips did not escape Arya's notice when she archly asked, "What, no kisses now from my future husband?"

Eragon cleared his throat, flushing as he attempted to explain, "I . . . I've decided to avoid anything that has proven too tempting. And kissing you last night was too tempting. If I am to maintain any reasonable degree of self-restraint before we return to the city and get married, I have to impose some limits on myself." He shrugged, hoping that was adequate.

Arya tilted her head back once more, and the mischievous look in her eyes worried Eragon. "Is that so?" she asked, too innocently. "You know how I've always enjoyed a challenge."

Eragon feared her intentions did not bode well for him. "Arya," he grumbled. "Please don't make it more difficult than it already is. I can barely stand to be around you without wanting to rip your clothes off." She raised her eyebrows. "I'm just being honest," he defensively finished.

"Well, since you are the most senior Rider and self-control is one of the most important attributes to master as a Dragon Rider, it seems a little practice is in order," Arya stated in a reasonable voice. "Don't worry. My tests will never be unpleasant." She smiled so sweetly that Eragon almost believed she had his best interests at heart. Almost. "And they will begin now," she quickly added before grabbing his face and locking his mouth in a passionate kiss as she pressed into him.

Eragon stiffened, fixing his hands in place on her back. He didn't pull away, but he also didn't contribute any more to the exchange than was absolutely necessary. Arya finally pulled away breathlessly, and he quickly pressed her head against his neck, securing it in place with his chin so she would have no further opportunity to assault him.

"That's not fair," he griped.

Arya laughed against him, apparently exulting in the knowledge that she still had such power over him though he had clearly bested her in running. "No, but you know you enjoyed it. And see how well you did? You passed your first test. Be prepared for the next one at any moment," she warned, and Eragon grimaced.