Chapter Eighty-One: Heart

"She isn't a threat anymore, Nasuada." Eragon was staring at Mariah's face, unable to comprehend what she had just done. Though his jaw was no longer slackened, he felt a cord of resentment in his heart. He didn't want her to have to swear oaths for him to feel as though he could trust her, it was Mariah; he should be able to trust her without promises bound by magic. Still infuriated with the situation, he bit his tongue and watched his boots shifting underneath him.

It looked as though Nasuada was going to ask more, but refrained from doing so. "Arya, please see to it that Murtagh and Kieran both are kept under guard. Be sure that they are separated, in the event of an escape; I would like at least a fraction of time to regain control. Trianna, make sure there are guards posted at all times."

The sorceress inclined her head, looking between the group members. "Yes m'lady."

"Now," she turned back to Murtagh and Kieran. "Your binds will remain in place until I decide otherwise. I ask that you rest. You will be provided with shelter and I will have food sent to you. I personally guarantee that you will remain safe until we can resolve the issues that have arisen."

Kieran watched the dark woman standing before her, who had thus far treated her with fairness. Though she was an enemy, Nasuada had given her respect, answered her questions without hesitation, honestly. In turn, Kieran inclined her head courteously. "Thank you Nasuada."

She watched her evenly for a moment, as if thinking. "Kieran," she said. "I do hope that you find your time as my prisoner reasonable. Prove to me that you are not my enemy, as your sister has done, and we shall have more to talk about together."

She shot a look at her twin and straightened, allowing herself to be led back into the pavilion behind her by Trianna, who then set about placing wards up around the tent before striding off to enlist a few members of Du Vrangr Gata to assist her. A moment later Nasreen fell from the sky, poking her head into the tent and nuzzling her princess. Kieran reached over, petting her snout, leaning against her warm scales.

Arya grasped Murtagh by the arm and walked him across the clearing to another tent. He stole another glance at Kendra before moving with the she-elf as Thorn landed nearby, flicking his tail. The dragon snorted toward the elf and settled down into the muck, forcing her to walk past him within striking distance. Without flinching, she kept her pace and settled his Rider on the bunk that was set up in the small tent.

When the other Riders were secured, Nasuada turned to Mark, Eragon, and Kendra. "Come, we will discuss what has happened and figure out our next course of action." She turned to leave and glanced over her shoulder at Andrar and Mariah. Pausing, she considered what her options were: it would be a good idea to make sure Mariah was guarded, however assumed that there was no one able enough to do so, besides those she was bringing with her. "Eragon?"

"She can come with," he reassured her, not meeting anyone's gaze. Eragon listened as Mariah walked toward them, her armor chinking. Mark moved and swept her up into his arms, holding her against him. At the sound of her footsteps, Eragon felt too close to her and walked after Nasuada alongside Kendra.

Mark glanced down at his sister. Mariah, are you in control of your own thoughts yet, or should I keep a guard up over your mind?

Unless the king wants me dead, I am bound to Eragon. It was the only way I could think of to be sure that I wouldn't hurt anyone else. You would let others die in order to save me, I know that Mark.

Then you did what you thought best, he said, walking after the others with an arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders. I'm sorry that was how it had to be done though, I do hate seeing you oath-bound, even if it is to him.

As they walked, Roran spotted them. He came trotting over, greeting his cousin again. Then he realized Mariah was awake and moved to her, grinning broadly. "You're looking loads better, sunshine."

She smiled at him, "Thanks Roran."

"Sorry, the last time I saw you, you were unconscious and hero over here" -Roran motioned toward his cousin- "was carrying you back here. Before that, well..." he trailed off, looking at her knowingly.

Pausing at the idea of Eragon carrying her, Mariah fought not to betray her emotions on her face. She simply nodded, responding to the man in front of her. "I probably looked pretty rough." Mariah paused, searching for words to convey her feelings. "You don't know how happy I am that you made it here safely… well, as safely as you did." She fought not to let her voice get tight as she spoke, "I'm sorry about Katrina. If there's anything I can do to help-"

"It's partially because of you that we managed to make it as far as we did," Roran insisted. His voice dropped a little, his sincerity pushing through, "Thank you. I don't blame you for Katrina's capture, Mariah. I believe you did what you could to stop it." He hugged her carefully, trying to avoid pinching himself on her armor. "Wow, this armor… amazing craftsmanship."

"It's elvish," she said, noting Arya's gaze as she walked up on them. "So it hardly weighs anything either."

"Looks like it kept you pretty safe," he admitted, rapping a knuckle once on her shoulder plate for good measure, before stepping back. He looked at Eragon. "Were you all going somewhere?"

"Yes, please, come with us, we have much to discuss, and I would like to hear about your travels still," Nasuada said, motioning for them to continue. Before long the procession made it to the large pavilion. Upon arrival they all settled into chairs, discussing the events of prior days.

Nasuada said, reflecting on the story, "It seems I am personally in your debt for slaying the traitors who murdered my father, Roran."

Fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, cousins, thought Eragon. It all comes down to family.

Then, as if reading his mind, Arya spoke quietly, "No one else can know about your lineage Eragon. The Varden are demoralized enough by the presence of new Riders. Though captive they are, it shows Galbatorix's true power. They'll be even more upset when they learn who the Riders are – two of whom they fought alongside and trusted in Farthen Dûr, the other the daughter of Galbatorix. If word spreads that Eragon Shadeslayer is Morzan's son, the men will grow disillusioned and few people will want to join us. Not even King Orrin should be told, this cannot leave this room."

Eragon glanced at Roran as he followed along, watching shock and revulsion cross his face before he managed to conceal his reaction. That, more than anything else, hurt Eragon.

"Mark… the knowledge that your parents were both Forsworn. Can you be certain?"

"I see no reason for Brom to tell me this if it were not true. He had also bound me from saying anything to those who did not already know, so even if I had wanted to tell you, Nasuada, I could not." He glanced at Mariah who had her eyes fixated on the table in front of her.

Nasuada rubbed her temples, "Yes, I understand. Ah, Galbatorix… I knew it was possible for this to occur, but I didn't really believe it would, since the eggs had gone so long without hatching. We may have held our own today, but the Empire still far outnumbers us, and now we face a half dozen Riders, whom may very well become stronger than you, Eragon. With the help of the elves' spellcasters, do you think we can defeat them?"

"Maybe. But I doubt he'd be foolish enough to send one of them to fight me and the elves at a time, we would likely be overwhelmed."

"I will fight with you Nasuada," Mariah said, not looking up from the table. "If you would allow it."

She paused, watching the young woman for a moment evenly. "I have allowed myself to take your brother as my advisor these months you have been gone, Mariah, in your absence, so that I might repay the debt I owed you for saving my life. Now, you are here, though you are not pledging yourself to me, are you?"

"No. I will swear no more oaths." She admitted, feeling Mark squeeze her hand under the table as Eragon avoided looking toward her.

"Very well." Nasuada paused, and finally said, "Enough. We cannot decide this when we are bloody and tired and our minds are clouded from fighting. Go, rest, and we shall take this up again tomorrow. Mark, I trust you will keep Mariah out of trouble."

As Eragon stood to leave, Arya approached him. "Do not allow this to worry you overmuch, Eragon-elda. You are not your father, nor your brother. Their shame is not yours."

"Aye," agreed Nasuada. "Nor imagine that is has lowered our opinion of you. I know you, Eragon. You have a good heart. The name of your father cannot change that."

He looked from one woman to the next, then twisted his hand over his chest, overwhelmed by their friendship. "Thank you." They walked from the tent, followed by Kendra. She paused beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing slightly. After meeting his gaze, she blinked and walked after the elf and Nasuada.

Mark was still sitting at the table with Mariah, and Roran looked as if he was struggling with words. Eragon could sense Saphira's presence outside the pavilion and watched her poke her nose into the room to observe everyone. Mariah looked at her and stood, walking over and brushing her scales. She tried to talk to her, but found a wall. Glancing at her brother, he blinked, then realizing what she wanted, nodded. Suddenly, she felt Saphira's mental presence against her mind.

You're hurt.

The dragoness rumbled, Only a few scratches on such a mighty dragon.

Here, let me heal them for you. I think Eragon and Roran need some time to talk. Mariah watched her pull her head from the tent and headed for the doorway. "Mark…" she called quietly. He stood and escorted her outside, where he watched her set about tending the wounds she had incurred during the battle.

"Let me heal your arm before you go patching up a dragon, sister." He said, striding over and mending her arm, listening to it crack as the bone mended itself. "There…" As his hand passed over her arm, she felt the binds lessen so she would be able to tap into her own magic to heal Saphira.

Eragon pulled out a chair beside his cousin and sat back down, heaviness filling his limbs, pushing Mariah from his thoughts for the time being. Now, he needed a moment with his cousin.

Neither of them moved.

Finally, after uncounted minutes, Roran said, "Tell me how my father died."

"Our father." Eragon remained calm as Roran's expression hardened. In a gentle voice, he said, "I have as much right to call him that as you. Look within yourself; you know it to be true."

"Fine. Our father, how did he die?"

Eragon had recounted the story upon several occasions. But this time he hid nothing. Instead of just listing the events, he described what he had though and felt ever since he had found Saphira's egg, trying to make Roran understand why he did what he did. He had never been so anxious before.

"I was wrong to hide Saphira from the rest of the family," Eragon concluded, "but I was afraid you might insist on killing her, and I didn't realize how much danger she put us in. If I had… After Garrow died, I decided to leave in order to track down the Ra'zac, as well as to avoid putting Carvahall in any more danger." A humorless laugh escaped him. "It didn't work, but if I had remained, the soldiers would have come far sooner. And then who knows? Galbatorix might have even visited Palancar Valley himself. I may be the reason Garrow – Father – died, but that was never my intention, nor that you and everyone else in Carvahall should suffer because of my choices…" He gestured helplessly. "I did the best I could, Roran."

"And the rest of it – Brom being a Rider, rescuing Arya at Gil'ead, and killing a Shade as the dwarves' -capital, Mariah getting taken by Galbatorix – all that happened?"

"Aye." As quickly as he could, Eragon summarized what had taken place since he and Saphira set forth with Brom, including their sojourn to Ellesméra and his own transformation during the Agaetí Blödhren.

Leaning forward, Roran rested his elbows on his knees, clasped his hands, and gazed at dirt between them. It was impossible for Eragon to read his emotions without reaching in to his consciousness, which he refused to do, knowing it would be a terrible mistake to invade Roran's privacy.

Roran was silent for so long, Eragon began to wonder if he would ever respond. Then: "You have made mistakes, but they are no greater than my own. Garrow died because you and Mariah kept Saphira and Andrar a secret. Many more have died because I refused to give myself up to the Empire… We are all equally guilty." He looked up, then slowly extended his right hand. "Brother?"

"Brother," said Eragon. Roran stood and walked to him around the table, pulling him into a rough embrace. When they separated Eragon had to wipe his eyes with the heel of his hand. "Galbatorix should surrender now that we're together again," he joked. "Who can stand against the two of us?"

She sang to heal Saphira's wounds, finding comfort in putting a melody to the elvish words. The dragoness hummed as Mariah finished with the last of her injuries, Thank you little one.

"Where is Eragon's tent?" Mariah asked aloud, looking at her brother. "I want to help Saphira take her saddle off too." Mark smiled a bit and led her through the camp, Saphira trailing behind. The silence that enveloped the siblings in the darkening twilight was comfortable. His presence was soothing, and though she had much to ask him, felt there would be another time for explanations. He stopped them outside his own tent, which was now also Eragon's quarters, and watched his sister turn to Saphira, unstrapping the saddle and pulling it from the dragon's back.

"Mariah, let's get you out of that armor, it looks heavy." She was about to protest but he was already upon her, unbuckling straps holding it together. It was only a few minutes before she was freed from the golden armor. Her dark red tunic was splattered with blood, strands of glittering gold thread fraying along the edges, and her breeches were torn in several places. Mark led her inside the tent, setting down her metal suit, then hesitated, watching her, "I should probably find Aluora. Will you be alright on your own?"

Mariah shot her brother a look. "I've been held captive for three months without you, and I'm still in one piece. I think I can handle an hour on my own with a dragon."

"If you say so… I am glad you're here," he said, putting a hand on her cheek. Mark kissed her forehead and sighed. Watching her carefully, he pulled her tightly against his chest, brushing her hair down protectively. "These past few months have been difficult for me, I don't know how I endured them without you."

"Neither do I," she chuckled, pulling away and walking out with him. "We will have to talk when you've finished with Aluora. I have many questions."

"I probably have more," he insisted, grinning. "No one else will tell you this, but I am very proud of you for taking after me so."

Mariah leaned up and kissed his cheek, "Thank you Mark. I did miss having you to help guide my actions."

"You did splendid on your own it seems… now, I need to go. I'll be back before too long." He smiled up at Saphira before wandering off through camp.

She watched until he left, smiling. Turning, she moved to start untying the saddle bags so she could put them in the tent. Mariah fumbled with a bed roll as something heavy started falling from it. Her fingers catching at the piece of slate that fell from the fabric, she started, blinking at the image - herself - upon it.

Andrar dropped heavily on the other side of the tent, winding his head around to look at her. A fairth - a fine one at that. His eyes darted upward toward Saphira, then he twisted around, curling his tail about his paws, sitting up on his haunches, revealing the large gash still in his shoulder from Ancalë. Clutching the fairth to her, Mariah healed the wound in his shoulder with what strength she had remaining, drawing some energy from Andrar himself to finish sealing the gash. He avoided Saphira's eyes and instead focused elsewhere, waiting for Mariah to finish. Lifting his head slightly, his neck was exposed with no room for resistance. He waited. Saphira could sink her teeth in to his spine if the dragoness so wished.

Saphira stepped toward him, sniffing at him, then pushed her head underneath his chin with something akin to a purr. Her tail flicked twice as she rumbled deep in her chest. In response, he nuzzled her back with his snout. Mariah could hear Saphira expressing the concern over his newly scarred face, and his insistence that the wound had been nothing, despite having been given to him by Shruikan himself. Smiling gently at them, a shiver ran up her spine as she felt Eragon stride behind her into the tent.

Try as he might, Murtagh found himself still unable to contact anyone outside of the tent that Arya had stuck him inside. He stood and walked to the entrance, feeling a shock as he attempted to leave. Recoiling, he growled. After a second attempt he dug the edge of his boot in the dirt and drew a line across the entryway. Turning, he kicked a rock on the ground, shooting it through the tent fabric and sending it flying into Thorn's side. The dragon whipped his head around and snarled.

"Sorry." He said bitterly, flogging himself down onto the cot. His armor now lay in a corner of the tent, leaving him in a red and gold tunic and breeches. Kicking off his black boots he dropped them off the edge of the cot, listening to them hit the floor.

Putting his hands over his face, he groaned aloud, exhaling and trying to convince his body to relax. He was trapped, again. Glaring at the cuffs around his wrists he turned his hands over, watching the silver on his palm flicker from the green light. Mariah had fulfilled the promise of their escape from Galbatorix, though not in the way he had expected. Death had been his assumption. He was still unsure how his original oaths to Galbatorix upon his arrival in Urû'baen were somehow no longer being held against him, at least, he hadn't died yet.

And now that he had been granted his freedom - he was being held captive. The thought angered him deeper than he wanted to admit. Kendra was making him far more upset, for she hadn't bothered to look at him since he'd seen her.

She was safe, which was good, that had been at the forefront of his mind since the moment he'd learned of her position with the resistance fighters. The battle had gone rather well, considering the other possible outcomes had been quite deadly. Though, it was more likely than not, Nasuada was going to ask him to fight for her, pledge his loyalty to her in order to destroy the Empire. He would refuse. No more oaths and no more battles.

As Nasuada had promised, he heard someone walk up to the entrance, come to deliver food and drink to him. He stood with a sigh, brushing his hands off and faltering as Kendra stared him down from the entrance, Nyx growling at her heels. The princess had her arms folded, the leather corset around her chest embroidered with the wolf sigil matching the one on her sleeve. Her boots were slightly heeled, unlike Kieran's stilettos that continually sunk in the dirt just for the sake of appearing taller. She was standing just beyond the line he'd drawn to mark the magical barriers around the room. His mouth twitched into a smirk against his will, "Hey there Nyx."

The wolf's growl pitched as Kendra snapped at him to quiet down. Reaching into the collar of her shirt, she pulled out a thin chain with a glittering red dragon scale on it. "I've worn this every day since I last saw you… to remind myself that you betrayed me."

"I had to," he said, watching the pendant spin slowly on the chain. Murtagh strode across the tent toward her, stopping as close to the edge of the wards as he could without passing through them. "You have to know it was all to protect you."

"Is that why you didn't kill me last time? Just stole all the information you needed to destroy the resistance, so you could protect me? I don't need your protection, Murtagh. I have spent the entire year I've been away from the capital in Surda in order to help build the resistance, hoping that someday I would be able to help kill him."

"Kendra, I can't change the fact that I was captured, or the fact that I am a Rider. In that my fate is sealed. There are few things I hate more in this world than a cage, but I am here, offering no resistance."

"Because you can't."

He growled at her and switched into the ancient language to speak with her, "I am here because of you. Yes, I am bound by magic, however, even if I wasn't, I would be here because of you."

"Last time I saw you I had a sword pointed at your throat."

Flipping back to common tongue, he smirked a bit at her, "Precisely. You had a sword to my neck and stayed your blade, despite knowing I was a Rider for Galbatorix. Knowing I had turned into my father-"

"You are not Morzan."

"Close enough at this point," he said grimly.

"Stop saying things like that."

"Why? It's true." He said, his fingers gripping the fabric wall of the tent, trying to release some of the anger that twisted inside him again. "Kendra, we both know one of two decisions will be made tomorrow. The first, Nasuada is convinced that Kieran, Mariah, and I are of no threat to the Varden and somehow allows us to live. In turn, she asks us to fight for the Varden, to which we either say yes, or she has us killed. Second, she just skips to the part where she has us killed. Either way, I'm dying tomorrow."

"You're not dying tomorrow, damnit!"

"I'm not swearing any more allegiances to anyone," he said, glaring at her. After a heavy moment of silence between them, Murtagh asked quietly, "Does Nasuada trust you?"

"I think so," she said. "She trusts Mark, and Mark trusts me."

"Knew that sneaky bastard was into something. The moment I met him…"

"He's not as horrible as you might think."

Murtagh rolled his eyes, walking away from her and beginning to pace as he realized the conversation was not going in the direction he'd wanted. "Mark has gotten to spend more time with you than I have in the past year."

"You've gotten to spend the last three months with both our sisters. I think that's enough compensation," she said bitterly. When he looked back at her, he realized she'd figured it out. "Kieran mentioned it to me while we were fighting, to try and upset me. She was right."

"I didn't even know you were still alive, Kendra." He stopped, watching her expression. "With everything that happened, it was so fast. And… nothing came of it, I'll have you know. I barely kissed her."

"I know, my sister also confided that fact to me after I had her captured. She apologized and begged me to forget it."

He sighed, "Of course she did. Never could just keep her mouth shut."

"Well I would have liked to know, maybe not in that circumstance-"

"It's not like it matters, you clearly still hate me!" He couldn't help his voice rising. "And there's nothing I can do to change that Kendra. You have too much hatred towards me, for some reason – whether it's because I abandoned you, betrayed you, or became a Rider – I don't know, but you hate me for it all the same." His voice had lowered back into a growl as he moved back to the entrance, staring down at her. The barrier was sparking against him in warning, but he ignored it for the time being, pressing closer.

"I hate you because you won't just tell me what you want so desperately to say," she snarled back. "Yes, I hate you for all the other reasons, but more so because you won't just admit it out loud to me. I know it's true, and if I'm wrong I won't blink when Nasuada sentences you tomorrow, but I won't watch either."

He looked down at the necklace she had made from Thorn's scale and shook his head. "Kendra, I would have told you if I knew what words could convey how I feel toward you."

She watched his face and fell silent; this was not the same boy she'd grown up with. He had seen much in the year he'd been away from her. His eyes were shadowed by the experiences he'd lived through – Ra'zac, Urgals, Dragon Riders – and now war. She knew she had changed as well. Though never considered timid, she now led a division of resistance fighters, even if they had begun as thieves, spies, and assassins. Through all this, she now felt more a princess than she ever had living inside the walls of the castle of Urû'baen. She had helped Nasuada and Mark lead the Varden to this battle, and together they had begun to achieve their goals. Finally, Kendra felt like a leader that people deserved to have, and in turn started questioning which of her desires she wanted most. "I won't stop fighting this war, Murtagh. And I know you don't want any part of this. You never wanted to side with the Varden, you just wanted to be you, and I won't blame you for that."

Murtagh's mouth pulled up into a smirk, "You want me to leave."

"I want you to do what you-"

"It doesn't matter what I want, Kendra," he insisted. "What do you want? Name it and it'll be done." She watched him for a moment, glancing down at his hands. Following her gaze, he lifted his left hand up to show her the silver mark. "It's not rubbing off, and the dragon isn't going to disappear. You want me dead-"

"Of course not," she said harshly, her eyes glassy, shaking her head.

"I can't change this. And I didn't ask for it. Are you going to be able to get past this, or should we just give up now?" He licked his lips nervously, watching her face.

Reaching through the wards, Kendra took his hand in hers and traced the mark with her thumb. Flipping his palm up, she shakily broke the necklace from around her neck and let the chain drip into his hand. Murtagh faltered as she looked back up at him, watching her turn and walk away.

Mariah stepped carefully towards the entrance to the tent, able only to see Eragon's back as he stood there. He was holding Ancalë in his hands and set it down on the table carefully. He went ridged when he felt her staring at him and turned slightly. "Galbatorix gave you this sword?"

"Yes," she admitted.

"It has probably killed Riders before…" he looked back at it before turning toward her, folding his arms.

She stood no more than ten feet away from him, watching his hard expression. Eragon's features were angled and pointed – he looked like Arya. It hurt to realize so much had changed in so little time. His trip to Ellesméra had healed him from the looks of it, and changed him but she didn't know if she liked the change or not yet. He looked foreign and exotic, as Arya had been when they first saw her. But this was different; when she looked for the farm boy she saw nothing but a princeling. There was a long pause as they observed each other, then he broke the silence.

"Why are you here?"

"I took off Saphira's saddle, she seemed uncomfortable."

"No, I mean here… alive, with the Varden…"

"I... this…" she shook her head. It was where she belonged, with her brother, and fighting at Eragon's side. "I spent months trying to get back."

"And you did, except you came back on the Empire's side."

"So did Murtagh, but you aren't berating him about it."

He shook his head, avoiding her gaze. Resentment was boiling in his veins, along with a thousand other emotions. His heart pulsed harder whenever he looked at her; the euphoric feeling of knowing she was alive was enough, but the following sense of betrayal and disbelief from her joining the Empire made his head spin.

"Eragon."

A growl escaped his throat as she called him. "What?"

"This isn't my fault," she insisted. "I had no choice."

"Sounds like you did. It actually sounds like you planned this whole façade the moment you arrived in Urû'baen. When he told you to swear allegiance to him, you somehow managed to make the oath to Murtagh, not the king? He has a vast knowledge of the Ancient Language, and you know only what Brom taught you. You're fifteen Mariah, you haven't had time to master the language like he has."

"And you're only sixteen, trained with the elves for less than three months, and believe you're proficient?"

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"No, I wasn't there, you're right."

"Exactly. And I'm saying there's no way you just walked out of Urû'baen of your own accord."

She narrowed her eyes at him, "Are you accusing me of lying to you?"

"And everyone else. Everyone is always keeping things from me. You've lied to me before."

"About what?"

"How about Brom? You didn't know he was a Rider? Mark knew; he knows all kinds of things. Every time I turn around, he's already explaining to me what I didn't realize I don't know. Lying must run in your family, if Brom never even bothered to tell you who your parents were."

She scowled, "How dare you. Brom gave you everything he could with the short time he had, teaching you being a Rider. All our lives, Mark and I have never treated you as anything but a brother-"

Eragon swiped his hand through the air, cutting her off, "You never once tried to let me know you were captured. Mark didn't go with me to Ellesméra, which I questioned until today when I realized you were alive. He somehow maneuvered into a position of power during the months I was away, and now stands at Nasuada's side despite your absence. He's manipulated his way into everything, and now he has Galbatorix's daughter with him - well one of them - all of it so he could find you. You burnt Carvahall to the ground and helped Galbatorix restart his Forsworn. The imperial army marched on us with you as their spearhead! This is some awful game you're playing, so you should just tell me what's going on now before I figure it out myself."

"There's nothing to figure out! Mark had no idea I was alive either. I tried to scry you both many times, but found myself unable to do so. There are so many wards up around Urû'baen I couldn't. And Mark puts wards on himself for all kinds of spells anyway, including scrying. And as for you, you should know the moment you stepped foot into Du Weldenvarden I would be unable to find you. I am not lying to you, Eragon!"

"You should not have been able to escape Galbatorix so easily!"

"You think it was easy!?" She shouted, stalking toward him and pushing him, watching him barely move. "I spent weeks trying to devise a way out of that castle. I had to watch everything I said and did so as to not incur the wrath of Galbatorix. The first time, he broke Andrar's wing. Do you know how difficult it is to mend bones? I thought he would never fly again. My mind was still broken from what happened with Durza, and he clawed around to get any bit of information he could find. I fought until I bled, and I did everything he commanded me to. Andrar and I both bear scars from my insolence. I cried myself to sleep most nights. So, yes, I lied and deceived the king, or tried to. When he found out, he punished me for it. I finally started having Murtagh wipe my memories from me so I would stop thinking about it all the time. Only by becoming what he wanted me to be was I able to get what I wanted. I did everything so that I could get back here."

He clenched his fist, glaring at her as she shoved him, "And you expected to be welcomed with open arms? After everything you've done?"

"I certainly didn't expect this!"

"You are a traitor, and so is Murtagh. Both of you became the Empire's pawns, and you may insist you are no longer under his influence, but I can't be sure. Not after everything that's happened. You could still be planning something; you've proven you're clever enough for it."

"Just because my parents were Forsworn does not mean I am a traitor, or you are being false to yourself too. Your father was Morzan, and though you never knew it, his blood runs in your veins. It never mattered before, nor should it now. It would seem all your training has done is made you suspicious and arrogant."

"Earlier you attempted to murder Nasuada, I can't be sure you won't try it again."

"I told you I wouldn't. I swore an oath to you that if you so desire you can kill me here and now. If you distrust me so much, then do it."

Eragon shook his head, "You said you've broken oaths to Galbatorix, I can't be sure you won't break the one you swore to me."

"Then do it now, you bastard. We have been friends since we could stand. We have struggled through everything together. There is nothing I wouldn't do for you, and you can't bring yourself to trust me?"

"No."

A snarl erupted from her lips, "Fine."

"Good," he spat back, glaring at her.

Shaking, she lashed out to strike him, fury in her veins, only to feel him catch her arm mid-strike. He had moved much faster than she'd anticipated. They were nose-to-nose. Mariah's lip curled as he gripped her forearm and stumbled as he shoved her away from him. Unprepared, her leg twisted and she hit the ground, catching herself on her arms.

The fairth she had stumbled across had fallen from the fold of her pocket. Staring up at him was the picture of her he had created in Ellesméra. She was grinning at him from the back of her dragon, sunlight gleaming from her eyes. Her features in the fairth weren't as tapered as they were now. She looked more human, less haunted by what they had discovered the few short months between Carvahall and the Burning Plains.

Eragon glanced from the image, back up to her as she stood. He could just see the pointed tips of her ears peeking through her raven hair as she turned her back to him, striding from the tent before he could say another word, fighting away her tears.

Finally, she found Mark brushing the last bits of blood from Aluora's coat and rushed to him, throwing herself into his arms as she sobbed. He stumbled slightly, caught off guard and then hugged her back, holding her up on her feet. Glossing over her mind, he felt the emotions coursing through her and cringed, deciding now was not the time to talk. "Come on," he muttered, picking her up and carrying her inside the nearby black tent.

Kendra looked up from the bandage she was tightening on Trevin's forehead and blinked as Mark set his sister down on the bed. He threw the princess an apologetic glance and smoothed down his sister's hair. "Can you stay here tonight? Kendra will make sure you stay safe."

"Trevin, can you make sure this gets to Kieran?" She asked, handing him a wrapped packet. The archer glanced between them all and nodded, walking out of the tent.

Mariah shook, wiping away her tears as he kissed the top of her head. "Get some rest; we've had a long day. I'll see you in the morning. I love you," he whispered, setting his forehead against hers gently. She let herself smile a bit as he spoke and muttered the words back to him, her hands dropping from around his neck as he pulled away from her.

Just in time for Valentine's Day.

With Love, As Always,

Mariah