I do not own the Inheritance Cycle.
So, this was the original chapter that started out the story. If you decide to read this (it was written in 2012) you'll see that I've made a lot of changes over the years as I've worked to make the characters more relatable and realistic and well rounded. I didn't know who Rose was, what her dreams and desires were, or what her relationships with "Ailis" and Tornac were like. Her history was even a mystery to me, and I kept her rather bland but over time she's evolved and that was my true reasoning to rewriting most of this tale. I wanted to portray her story better than I did when I began this. All
I had was a story in my head and the need to get it out. This version was very stiff and, quite honestly, I hate it but I'm posting it because ever since I've done an overhaul on the story, there's a massive gap between the last chapter and the last posting (I combined 6 or 7 chapters), and I think that this honors what originally brought the first readers to the tale. Even if most of them have left the fandom long ago.
But seriously, if you don't want to torture yourself, don't read it. I haven't in years and I'm not going to for obvious reasons.
I only kept the first two chapters so that all I can give you.


Chapter 1: A Gift

There was a hard wrenching jerk that pulled her head back, and she heard her hair breaking as it lost its battle to the rough bristles of the brush. Her hands twitched and she closed her eyes, biting her bottom lip to keep from crying out. Rose dearly wished that this task would be over soon as her body ached from tiredness and she yearned to crawl back between the folds of her blankets. She shuffled a yawn and the woman behind her tisked irksomely.

At that moment anything would be better than having to sit there, allowing her head to be assaulted so, forced to look at little else but a pair of combs. The pearls set into in the adorned silver combs were, perhaps the poorest gift she had ever been given, and Rose loathed having to look at them. She wished almost desperately for her needlework or a book, anything at that moment. But it seemed that there would not be such luck and instead she sat feeling rather strange, she felt inside her a dangerous twisting that miffed her belly and dizzied her mind.

In the distance there was an unforgiving scream, rather it was a squeal of delight or one of grief or pain, it was enough to startle both Rose and the servant behind her. The small, soft hands of the woman brushing through her hair unexpectedly yanked on her head firm enough to pull more than a few hairs, making her yelp in pain. She felt her hair tumble down onto her back adding an extra weight to her head.

"Forgive me," said the woman.

Rose knew the woman's name, knew the woman herself quite well enough. Though it was so much easier not to give the woman a name, this way when she did, in fact, leave as Rose was sure she would, there would not be as much anguish. So many have left these past month, there was so very little stopping the woman from doing the same.

Rose sighed before she could stop herself and the woman behind her stiffened. "There is nothing to forgive," said she, leaning back into the woman's midriff.

She was so very sleepily. The memories of her dreams the night before seemed to be screaming at her, willing her to remember them; white, boney hands reaching out of the darkness, reaching for her, grasping the air with long crooked finger, she had been running from hands but they were never far behind taunting her. By a hair width, she was out of their clutches but not far enough to break free of them. They would close once more and the long, yellowed fingernail would snap together and she would feel them touch the ends of her hair, just barely behind her-

There a deafening scream echoing throughout the stone walls. She sat up suddenly awake, looking around franticly. The woman behind her, huffed in annoyance and stated that if she did stay still they would be all day. Taking a strangled breath Rose forced herself to calm down, it was not an easy task and she took to focusing on the woman's task through the looking glass.

The servant had continued to weave her hair high upon her head almost without her noticing, and she had been forced to sit back up. The woman was fitting those ghastly small silver combs in between the many plaits of her dark hair, and Rose tried very not to twitch as her stomach's acrobatics intensified. The servant worked quietly as if to make the screaming from within the castle more evident, and much more unbearable. As the servant fit the last pin into the mass of braided hair she caught Rose staring.

Rose quickly looked down, a rush of blood burned her cheeks like flames.

The woman swooped down next to Rose and took her chin into her scared hands, tilting her face up into the light forcing the young lady to look up into the mirror. "There is nothing vainglorious about admiring yourself," she said, leaning her chin over Rose's shoulder. "The trick is in not letting others catch you in the act."

Rose looked her reflection- was she really that dreadfully pale? It was a displeasing sight to see, and she quickly looked away and studied the woman. She smiled, and hesitantly Rose smiled back. A piece of the woman's silken brown hair had fallen into face, hiding her eyes. The woman had a lovely face; kind and merry and wise, yet sad. Rose often saw the woman look on with a heartrending expression, and she often wondered what caused it.

Yet, another scream broke the air, and the servant dropped her chin and backed away a bit, wiping her hands on her dress as they were dirty. "Do you think the hairpins suit you?" said the woman, stepping further away. "Or do you wish for me to remove them?"

Rose bit her lip. She would like it very much for the combs to be removed but the woman had work quite hard to place them into her hair and she did not wish to sit there any longer. "They are very fitting," said she, shifting in her seat at the lie. "Thank you kindly, Ailis."

"You're welcome, miss," said Ailis.

Rose made a face. "I wish for you to call me Rose." The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. Ailis looked at her with wide brown eyes, and Rose wished she could kick herself but instead she vowed to get more sleep that night. "I'm tiring of these formalities," she amended with another lie. She had lost count on how many lies she has told lately though she knew there was quite a lot. "You are one of the few people I see these days, and it's becoming rather uninspiring to only be called 'miss,' or 'lady.' I fear I may forget my name if things continue in this circumstance."

Ailis' brown eyes flashed, and her face became as impassionate as stone. "As you wish," said she without the slightest hint of emotion. She then excused herself to continue with her other various duties.

Solemnly, Rose watched her leave before moving to her bed. She picked up a thick book, with decorated cover of mother-of-pearl and gold leaf edging, it was the very same book she had discarded the night before. She flipped through the thick, ivory pages until she came across the place where she had stopped. Not bothering to move as she did not feel the need to do so, she sunk down onto the floor, her dark gown bellowing around her form. She sat there, on the rugged floor searching for answers she knew she would not find.

This had become an unbreakable habit of Rose's as of late, she would sit and search in vain in hundreds of books until her eyes would burn red and salty tears fell down her cheeks from unrest. At night she would get very little sleep for her mind searched for only the answers she sought, this left her with dark half circles under her eyes. In the morning, Ailis would tut over her state and raise various questions about her health before cautioning her to get more rest until she was blue in the face, only to do the same thing the next morning. Rose, however, found her less than pleasing state to be a sound excuse, a very good reason to excuse herself from a number of unpleasant gatherings.

Her bedchamber was a neat disarray of books and scrolls, many of which belonged to the castle's library, though it quite unlikely they would return to their proper home any time soon. A fire flickered in the grate and through an arched window the bubbling voices of a fountain could be heard. A bed draped with a brocaded cover stood in the corner and near it, a lush arm chair burdened with heavy books faced the heavy oak door. Colored perfume bottles of all shapes and sizes sat across a long, thin table with a wood framed mirror and a hard stool, the very one Rose had sat on earlier, was tucked underneath the table. An intricately carved wooden chest for clothing was pushed to the far wall.

Rose was eighteen years of age, with wavy dark brown hair that fell past the small of her back, held back in plaits and gold combs. Her grey eyes were fierce, lined by dark eyelashes that were enhanced by blackened kohl. She was medium height with a slender build and long, thin fingers. At the collar of her gown, a hint of a twisting scar could be seen at the start of her shoulder blade. The person who gave her this scar was the very reason she revoked her birth name, insisting that she be called 'Rose,' after her mother's favorite flower, a mother who had died when she was at a soft, tender age.

Though Rose did not remember much of her parents, what she did remember was a confusing collection of emotions and incomplete images that intertwined like an half finished tapestry; a blood red blade twisting its way toward her small body, a burning pain across her back, dark hateful mismatched eyes of her father, harsh words and tender hugs. She could recall the clopping of her soled shoes as she ran across a cobblestoned garden lined with red and white roses, the sweet smell of honey and jasmine at night, the soft padding of her mother's footsteps, and great, sad sobs when she looked into glazed, sightless eyes-

She pinched herself in attempt to forget her train of thought. Closing the book, she tossed it onto her bed and moved on to the next one where she quickly lost herself in the intricate expressions of narrations.

It was only when a servant younger than Rose herself knocked on the door, well past midday, did Rose put the book down. She stood up and called in the girl in. The girl stood in the doorway, looking rather harassed. Clumsily she curtsied, her hooded head bobbing. "Master Tornac requests your attendance in the drawing room of Solar, my lady," The girl said before curtsying once more and scurrying away.

If Tornac is back then it is no wonder the girl was so distraught, Rose thought as she cheerfully jumped to her feet. She shook the fabric of her gown rustling the material until it was free of its creasing wrinkles, and once the stiff fabric were free of all imperfections, she walked out into the twisting stone maze that was the King's castle in Urû'baen. For the first time that day, she noticed that the screeching had ceased.

It took her twenty minutes of what felt like ceaseless wondering to come to the room in which the young servant had spoken of. Without knocking, Rose opened the thick door and walked into the high-ceilinged chamber with a gracefully curved mantel on one wall where a fire flickered. The dreary earthen walls were replaced with a soft yellow paint, and from the ceiling hung a silver lamp shaped like a lily that defused a gentle light. Comfortable high-legged chairs were arranged around the fireplace. An elegant bookcase filled with leather-bound books lined the wall opposite.

The only person in the room was Tornac, who stood facing the fire with his hands clasped behind his back. Tornac was stern-looking man with a scar across his cheek to his sharp nose which drew the skin tightly under his left eye which made his face unusually expressionless. When Rose had first met him, she was more than slightly frightened of him and would not say but a few words whenever she was in his presence. Now, however, after being away so long from the man she often thought of as her father, she couldn't help but smile widely and rush to embrace him. Startled by the unwarned passion, he rocked forth on his feet then turned and they properly embraced for a long moment.

At last they stood apart and studied each other's faces.

"I didn't think you would back so soon," she said. "Why are you back so soon?"

His eyebrows wiggled as he frowned, fighting each other across the bridge of his nose. "I will tell you as soon as you explain what has been distressing you so."

Rose shrugged, not willing to talk about her conflictions. "You have been harassing servants, again," she said, accusingly wagging her finger at him. "That poor girl you sent to find me was shaking in her knees, could hardly stand in her wild fear."

Tornac gave her a disbelieving look and shook his head. "That is not my doing," he said at last. He sighed, and took her shoulder in his hands so that he looked down at her. "Come and sit, there is much we have to talk about. You best listen too, I shan't repeat myself." He guided her to the sofa and sat, waiting for her to do the same. She did not, choosing to remain standing.

"Tornac," she started. "It's nothing to worry yourself over. Please, I beg of you, just drop the issue."

"Ignoring it will not make it go away. Now, listen, my dear. I've been away for quite a while and have lost much sleep over this, and may the gods help me if you do not." He gave her a hard look, his eyes like ice.

Rose looked at him desperately and shifted, unable to keep his gaze. "Very well," she said crossing her arms over her chest. "Say what you must."

"I have little to say about the matter you wrote to me about, but I cannot help but think that the only thing that will will calm your mind and lighten your heart is time. You did not write to me what it was that the King wanted, and I know there is little I can do for you now that he has made up his mind. Know, however, that depriving your mind of rest and your body of nutrients it so demands, cannot change-"

"I don't know how much time I have," interrupted Rose again, turning away. "The King grows impatient, and I've delayed giving a straight answer for far too long." She was being bold disrupting him so, but she could not find it in herself to care. "We both know that he will get what he wants in the end, he always does, yet I've hoped to keep myself from him for the time being."

Tornac stared into the fire for a long moment. "Let us not tally on this tonight," he said. "Come, sit. Tell me of what deeds have come to pass as I have been away."

This time Rose indulged him and sat on a long bowed sofa next to him. "Not much has passed since. The only thing that comes to mind is rumors of a new Dragon Rider, which we both know is nigh impossible," she said, folding her hands in her lap.

"Aye, I have also heard such rumors."

Rose smiled. "You don't believe them to be true, do you?"

Tornac stirred and leaned forward to pour a glass of wine. "You know as well as I do that rumors of such are increasing in Alagaësia as of late," he said, handing a cold glass to her. "Certainly reports of attacks from the Varden and Urgals are more common, and there's famine and banditry and sickness in many regions. Some say these are but a part of the Cycle. Others say not. And more than that there are problems of a Shade and various stories of Dragon Riders: nothing concrete, but definite unease."

Rose took a small sip. The liquor burned her tongue and throat, and tasted delicately sweet. "But you don't believe them to be true?" she repeated.

Tornac glared at her in annoyance. "Pull the cotton from your ears," he said. "Of course I do not believe such rumors, however, I am not fool enough to discard them without thought."

Rose nodded, looking down at the straw colored cordial. They didn't speak, the crackling laugh of the fire seemed to forbid chatter. Rose reached forward and grabbed a candied chestnut from a crystal bowl. The sweeten chestnut was so tender it melted in her mouth.

"You're as white as a ghost," observed Tornac after a long silence. "Have you slept a wink, child?"

"I am not a child," said Rose, more sulkily than she intended.

Tornac chuckled humorlessly. "Not a child, indeed."

Rose looked away into the fire. "You are right. Please forgive my gracelessness," she said, the words burned in her throat. "I haven't slept well as of late."

"I can see that. Your ailment is the same as before?" He asked once more.

Rose nodded curtly, uncomfortable with where the conversion was going. "What happened while you were away?" She asked, besieging the chance to change the topic.

Tornac groaned and leaned heavily in this chair. "Nothing good, I'll tell you that. One day, everything is going as planned and the next a whole rank had fallen into madness. There was no time to think, only to act," he paused a far off look in his eyes. "Less than half of us made it to Gil'ead and even fewer came back. No one knows what to make of it, drug or poison that ails the mind, I know not."

"What business was there in Gil'ead?" Rose asked her interest perked. He hadn't told her much of anything before he left. She knew of no reason for him to be traveling as he had.

Tornac gave her a hard, unyielding look and her shoulders dropped with disappointment. "I've blessed you with far more information than required of me. It is best if no more is said." His face softened and he said, "Now why don't you grace my ears with your playing, it is something I have long missed."

Rose started. Tornac knew as well as she that she had not an instrument to play and that her singing voice was that akin to the screeching of a great horned owl. However before she could resort, he bent down and pulled out a large cloth covered package. In a smooth motion he handed it to her, she took it carefully, not use to such gifts from the old swordsman. The package sat across her lap hanging little more than two feet off and it was as not as wide as her waist. Rose carefully undid the rough strings and unfolded the thick cloth, inside sat a viol.

This viol was a bowed musical instrument of dark yellow wood that sat on the lap or in between the legs when played, it was a rectangle that curved in halfway into its frame, a long polished neck ended in a fine curve that held seven strings that when struck with a bow made a pleasing sound, it had a flat back, and an integrant carved pattern that sat under the strings. It was truly a beautiful piece of work.

"I happened to come across it in a small village, the poor merchant who owned it had the bad luck of ignorance as to what treasure he held," Tornac said. "I pray you still have your old bow, else I'll have search for one which would be a long and pitiless."

Rose frowned, looking at the seven strings on the viol. She did not know how play this viol. She inclined her head to the swordsman. "This is grand gift, Tornac. I cannot thank you enough."

"And, yet?" Tornac said watching her reaction.

"I'm afraid I do not yet know how to play with seven strings." She said.

Tornac nodded, understanding the problem, "Come to me when you know and I'll listen then."

Rose smiled and nodded, the movement made her dizzy. It was because of Tornac she had acquired such a taste for musical instruments. He was the one to introduced her the bard Brage, who took the hardy task of teaching her to play the stringed instrument. It did not come naturally to her and she began to loathe the time she spent with the bard, until one winter day when she found she took pleasure in the challenge. Since that time, she spent much of her leisure time playing songs in her chambers, when her mind became too conflicting to do anything except for it, until seven months ago when her viol cracked and became unplayable.

"I'll come to you then," Rose said, happy to have such a test to face.

"I will wait eagerly until such a time passes," Tornac said grimly, as he stood. His old bones cracking like the fire. "Now, I'm afraid that I must excuse myself as I am quite weary."

Rose stood as well. "Rest well, Tornac."

"And you." He said, clasping his large hand on her shoulder.

Together they walked out and went their separate ways. It with a shock that it was almost nightfall and having not eaten anything that day, Rose made her way to kitchens, hugging the viol close to her chest. After reaching the large kitchens and charming a meal out of the cooks, which she ate hastily, she made her way back to her chambers.

While traversing the curving maze-like halls, Rose came across the sound of voices in one of the many stone walled rooms that were never used. Curious, she stopped to listen, ignoring all the manners that had been ingrained into her.

"Enough of this talk," a woman said, impatience seeping from her voice. "There is much to be done, and I precious little time to do it. As you are here, do have what I requested?" There was the sound of rustling leather and footsteps, then an exclaim of surprise. "It's heavier than they claimed it would be."

Someone snorted, as if they were humored. "Alas," a familiar voice said, "such shall be your fate while you side yourself with thieves and misfits."

Rose, entranced, stepped closer to the closed door and pressed herself to its cool surface. For a moment she wondered what was the people talking about? What thieves and misfits? Then she realized why the voice were familiar, and who it what that was talking, and went still with shock.

"Do not say such things!" the woman said, making a hissing sound. "Humans aren't the only things that have ears around here."

Squeezing the instrument closer to her, Rose slowly walked backwards to the nearest corner, careful to make no sound. She didn't wish for them to hear her. Should they hear and catch her snooping, she would have to explain herself, and at the moment she was certain she wouldn't be able to come up a convincing lie.

"I know," it was Tornac's voice that replied. "Though I must ask while we are risking our necks: when the storm will land?"

"Two days time," the woman said lowly. "It is not too late to with draw to higher land."

With the corner only a few feet away, Rose picked up her pace, tossing all former precaution away.

"I've prepared far too long to flee," he said. "I'll see to it that I'm well prepared."

The creaking sound of the door opening startling Rose and she turned on her heel and ran around the corner, her loud footsteps echoing behind her. With a deep breath she peeked over the corner.

"Do you believe someone heard us?" Tornac asked his shaggy white hair falling into his blue eyes.

The woman, Ailis, looked up at him, her face twisted in a way that Rose had never witnessed. "Aye, someone did hear us. Tread carefully, Tornac," she said. "It'll be some time before we're out of these dark waters." With her warning said, she stormed away, her white and purple skirts billowed behind her, like dark clouds.

Rose didn't wait for anything more to happen, instead she turned and ran, her heart pounding uncontrollably in her chest. Had anyone seen her she would no doubt be the subject of gossip for the next week for running about the halls not unlike a savage boar. She tried not to pay attention to the Court and what they thought any mind, yet it did not stop her from blushing madly with a young group of girls watched her as she charged past them in slack-jawed mirth. She felt like cursing, and as soon as she turned the corner she slowed to a steady walk. She still had quite a ways to go before she would reach chambers and by then the hair combs were truly beginning to pull at her hair. With a vow to pull them out from the tangles of her tresses, she walked on at a brisk pace.

Chapter 2: Escape

It seemed as if nothing had happened.

In the two days that had passed since Rose had fled to her chambers nothing seemed in the amiss. She had spent that rest of that first evening, trying her best to unscrambling the riddles of words she heard but it was a baffling task. She could not make heads or tails of half of it. Eventually she was able to it aside, though at times when it was silent and she had nothing to keep herself occupied her mind would drift back to those very strange words.

Who was Ailis allying herself with? Rose would wonder. Was she really allying herself with bandits and mischiefs? Was Tornac teasing Ailis as he often teased her, or was he trying to warn her without seeming as he was? She thought it was likely, either one, but she did know what one Tornac trying to do. And that brought up another thing; Rose had thought that Tornac did not know Ailis on a personal level.

She had been in a room many times with the both them, and never once did they seem as if they have talked before. Of course she didn't know much about Ailis either, how could she when the woman spoke very little of herself, pretending as if she had no past at all? Who was Ailis truly?

Rose knew little of her other than she had no family or if she did, she never spoke of them.

She had accepted Ailis by Tornac's request after Cordelia, the woman who acted at Rose's nursemaid from birth, retired sometime last spring. A mere two weeks after Cordelia took her leave, Ailis showed up and took her place. It was silly, thought Rose often, that a grown woman would still need a maternal figure such as a governess. Tornac insisted however that until such time as she wedded someone would always be there, and at the moment that someone would be Ailis.

Tornac left soon after that to travel to Gil'ead but he was he was doing there was a complete mystery to Rose. He normally stayed in Urû'baen, and watched over her but it seemed that ever since his travel home nearly a year ago now, he was eager to leave the castle. As childish as it made her feel, she also thought that he was eager to leave her behind.

She frowned and looked up from the book she was supposed to studying from. It was useless to try and read when her head was so full of thoughts and questions. Her hands ached for something to do and not for the first time she thought of the voil that sat beside her bed in her bedchambers. She shouldn't have left it up there, because now she wanted more than anything else.

It was, she thought, Ailis' fault she was stuck in the Library without it. Earlier that morning after Rose had dressed in a lighter gown than the chilling season called for, and the woman set to braiding the her hair, taking twice as long as usual, much to Rose's annoyance. She sat thoroughly scowling the whole time just to find that her hair was done so intricately and secure that she feared it would take just as long, if not longer to be unfastened. It was only when Rose's hair was complete that Ailis spoke to her.

"It might be wise to spend today in the libraries," she said "you have fallen behind in your studies, and neither of us wishes for the King to take notice."

This was true, Rose had fallen far behind in her studies. These studies the king himself had suggested to her weeks before. It was much to her dismay that she knew she could merely disregard such a suggestion.

Rose agreed to follow Ailis' warning and spent a few short hours in the rooms of the libraries but she quickly got bored. How could she be expected to stay put on an unusual day? She had learned that pervious day that the King was going on one of his rare outings before midday for the first time in the last ten years. It seemed to her that without the dark essence King Galbatorix in the castle, the gloomy stone walls seemed to lighten. The steps of the many servants had more of a bouncing edge, their backs casual and not so taut, that was everyone except for Ailis.

She had noticed many things about Ailis since she had overheard her and Tornac's conversation. Had she not she would not have seen the tremor in Ailis' hands or the hastiness of her work. It was because of this that she began to think that perhaps whatever Ailis had planned had a very big part in the King's departure- which now seemed far too convent.

It was not long after midmorning when the King took his leave that Rose took hers as well, daring at last to fetch her viol. On her way to her rooms she saw what she thought to be Ailis and suddenly changed course to follow her through the massive halls. Ailis however turned around after mere moment and inquired rather snappishly if Rose needed anything before shooing her back to the libraries.

Rose turned away from the woman with a quick excuse before hurrying to her room and grabbing ahold of the casing of her viol before returning to the catacomb of the library.

The viol had been placed in an embroidered, padded leather case where it sat by her bed untouched except for late at night when Rose found herself unable to rest. Only then would she pluck at the strings testing its sound, not bothering with the bow for the time being. Its presence had become a sort of balm to her troubled mind and conflicting feelings.

As the day progressed, with Rose seated in a small room of the main library, Ailis began to peek around the corner none too stealthily as if to insure that Rose remained in place. But it seemed that the more she visited the more progressed Rose found herself aching to play the viol, if only to break the tedious silence, these however were ignored as she looked out the window and watched the day pass by.

From the time that she was little the king of Alagaësia had provided for her upbringing, taken a distant interest in what she studied and how much she learned. It had been that way for as long she remembered though she was told that it not long after her parents had passed into the Void when the King took her in.

Rose thought he only cared for her because of her father. Her father was a man call Morzan, and had once been King Galbatorix's most faithful and dedicated servant. He was the first to declare his loyalty to Galbatorix before he was king and form what was called the Thirteen Forsworn. After he joined so did others, but this was many, many years ago.

History told her that the King and his malevolent servants along with their crooked dragons declared war on the Dragon Riders of old and sought to raze the ancient order. She had heard that it was a long and bloody war, but Galbatorix along and those faithful to him were crowned victorious. After the horrible war Galbatorix took the throne naming himself all powerful King of Alagaësia, where he had reigned ever since and would ever more. Unlike the King, his Forsworn slowly died away- Morzan was last to do so, only died because of foul play.

Though these events took place many years ago, the terror it wrought still scarred the land and the people. The names of the Forsworn were still feared, Rose had learned that at a very age and since that time, she had taken to avoiding the courts of Urû'baen and all its intrigues as much as possible. She valued her freedom above all else and was wary of the noblemen who sought to use her because the status of her father. This is where many of Rose's troubles now took root, because not only was her father a ruthless servant of Galbatorix but her mother was Morzan's assassin; The Black Hand.

The Black Hand was a ruthless assassin, who had once fled on dread filled missions of murder, torture and many other discomforts. The Black Hand was completely under Morzan's, Rose's father, control until one mission ended in The Black Hand's own death. Since The Black Hand's passing, Galbatorix has been trying in vain to recreate usefulness of The Black Hand until he had created a group of rag-tag assassins. Though skilled, the King's collection did not match Morzan's Black Hand's skill and now he was looking at Rose, the sole heir to both Morzan and his Black Hand.

Rose herself did not understand the reasoning, nor why he only chose to take interest in her only recently, yet the threat hung over her very much like a dark cloud, haunting her every thought and ensnaring her in trepidation unlike any manacles could hope to do. She couldn't escape this prison, however, it seemed as if the King was crafting something that she could not currently see or comprehend.

.

Turning over the amulet on her necklace she thought again of how very unusual it was. Made from a soft colored gold the amulet was rather simple in design, a small circle with an even smaller pink gem set in the middle but this was not what was unusual about it. When Tornac had first presented the necklace to her, while it was indeed very lovely, she had decided not to wear it thinking that the elegantly etched symbols were meant for someone other than her but Ailis had insisted on her wearing it that day. Eventually Rose gave in and put it on.

Still fingering the charm, Rose kept her eyes on the view below, watching a scenery of a cobble stone square filled with flittering, chattering bird and very few people. A woman dressed in purple and white came out from the shadows and chased the birds away, leaving them to fly away and squawk with dismay.

Rose sighed as the woman turned back to the shade and the birds slowly returned as if nothing had happened. She waited for the woman to return, but she never did even though the birds had become noisy beyond compare. She frowned at the gathering below, noticing that there were also no longer people streaming through the courtyard. Where had everyone gone to?

"And here I was thinking that you were using your time wisely," said a breathy voice from somewhere behind her.

Rose felt as if her heart had jumped into her throat, as she jolted and looked up to the source of voice thinking perhaps the worst but it was only Ailis. She was standing in the doorway, leaning just slightly against the opened the door, her face pale and shimmering with sweat, her breathing irregular as if she were out of breath.

A long black wool cloaked covered a dark velvety dress which was tied at the waist by a thick black belt that held a blackened shortsword, replaced the uniform white and purple gowns, and the cap she usually wore. Her arms, layered with wide bracers, were burdened with two buckskin travelbags and a pair of rich boots. She had another, larger bag slung across her back.

"Ailis what are you-" but Rose never finished her sentence, silenced by the look of suborn determination that crossed Ailis' face. It was a looked that slightly frightened her, made her wonder who this woman really was and what she wanted.

"Put those on," the woman demanded, tossing a pair of boots into her lap.

Rose merely looked at the boots, her pulse hammering behind her ears. They were made of dark leather and looked as if they would reach halfway up to her knee before they folded in on theirselves. For what reason would she want to wear those boots? She didn't think there was a reason at all; she was wearing perfectly good slipshoes… Unless the thing Ailis and Tornac had been talking about somehow involved her.

"We have little the time for this!" Ailis said severely.

She looked up at Ailis, her eyes widening. "Time for what?"

"Rose," Ailis said gently, testing the name out, "Rose, if you have even the smallest trace faith in me you will do as I say."

Ailis had not addressed her by name since Rose made her request three days before. Hearing her name being called now, she felt that perhaps her slip hadn't been as severe as she first thought. In all truth she hated being called her given name, and likely she would have felt that she was in trouble if Ailis had called her by it.

She considered the boots, and then looked again at Ailis and asked, "Where is Fate taking you?"

"Very, very far from this black place."

Rose frowned, her heart beating fast. Had Ailis truly just asked her to leave with her? Her mind flickered to Tornac but he was involved in this, somehow though she didn't know how. Just knowing that he was involved felt like enough, it was enough to trust Ailis if only because of Tornac did but she found did even if Tornac's option hadn't been weighed. The time Rose had sent with Ailis was vast, and over that time she had begun to trust her but enough to allow the woman with her life? She did not know.

"I don't understand," she said, looking at the sword.

"I know," said Ailis, "but it is best that for the time you do not."

"Surely, you can spare enough time to give me an answer."

"Oh, Rose," Ailis said dejectedly. "I am very sorry, but there very little time. I'm spending much more than I should offering you an escape. I thought you wanted to leave, to become more than what Galbatorix has planned for you but perhaps I am wrong in my reckoning. I would like for you to come but it is your choice alone. If you don't know than choose quickly." She dropped one of the leather bound bags at Rose's feet, then without looking back she walked toward the low door. She lingered there for a moment, her head half turned, and then continued forward.

Watching Ailis disappear, her chest tightened and suddenly she felt as if she could not breathe. She kicked off her slipshoes and shakily began to shove the boots onto her feet, suddenly certain that she could no longer stay here. If she did she was convinced that she would soon meet her death.

After tying up the boots, she grabbed the bags at her feet and quickly tucked her viol into its casing, and clutching it to her chest she rushed out of the book-lined chamber. "Wait!" she called out to the woman head of her. "Please, wait!"

Ailis turned on her heel, a wide smile gracing her face, and waited for Rose to catch up to her. "I had hoped you would come," she said in a chipper tone.

"Yes but come where?" Rose asked.

Ailis grasped Rose's hands into her own. Ailis' were cold and clammy as if she stuck them in snow for quite some time. Rose shivered.

"Don't worry about that now," she said, pulling Rose toward the front of the vacant library, not taking her eyes off of her the whole while. "All answers will be explained when we have secure ground to stand on but until then, we must make haste."

Ailis then released Rose's right hand, keeping her left palm firmly in her grasp. Hand-in-hand, they walked past the many lush chairs and long tables to the entry of the library. As they did so Rose was assailed by panic once more. Somehow she already felt her decision was irrevocable, yet she did not know what she had decided.

Rose had been raised with the knowledge of the security of castle and knew that there was nothing to insure their escape. She did not want to think about what would happen when King Galbatorix caught them for surely he would and what he would perform as punishment. This thought alone sickened her forming a hard knot took form in her stomach but her doubts were overwhelmed by a fierce longing, as if all her desires for freedom, crushed by the many years under the King's ever-seeing eye, came back in a single urgent wave. A chance of escape is better than becoming what she was could not, from becoming what her parents once were, even if it was only a slim chance.

Ailis led her out of the wide, gold-embossed doors into the arched corridor over to a burgundy woven tapestry that Rose had walked by a number of times in the past years without a single glance. Ailis swiftly pulled aside the drapery to expose a small, stout oaken door which she opened and proceeded to thrust Rose through, following shortly after. She closed the door behind her.

The short collider ended in a flight of steep, narrow stairs leading both up and down.

"This is called Servant's Halls," said Ailis, as she took Rose's hand once more. "Come now, Rose, and do not tally. It is a rather easy thing to get lost in this labyrinth."

Ailis set a laboring pace down the brusque stairway, which Rose would rather crawl down than walk. The stairs were so steep she was certain she would fall, and at once she was beyond thankful for the tough boots Ailis provided for her; her slipshoes would have given way on the first step.

They voyaged only a single set, before Ailis led her down another hallway and down yet another, until Rose lost all sense of direction. It was truly a labyrinth in there, and she wondered how anyone could get where they were needed to go.

Once Rose was positive she would never see sunlight again, Ailis stopped before a door like that of which they entered. "You're going to have to forgive me for the confusion I am about to hurl you into but know that I am doing out of my care for you," Ailis said. "I'm going to have to beg you not to doubt me or loathe me until I explain things to you in full, until such a time I ask only for your patience and cooperation."

Ailis then opened the door, to reveal the harsh light of the sun. Not stopping to allow either of their eyes to adjust she rushed them past the courtyards and gardens of the castle to the gate keep of the entrance of the capital of Urû'baen. There was not a soul guarding the palace's entry, something that Rose had never witnessed. Something about it felt wrong, and Rose wondered where the guards had gone.

As they went under the arch, a sole figure appeared on the other side.

"You took your time," said the figure.

Rose recognized immediately that the voice belonged to Tornac. Rose had feared that she was going to lose the old man in her flight however she feared more of what Galbatorix was planning to curse her with, then any loss of her friends. Rose was certain that if she left, than Tornac would have no reason to stay and she knew that if were to come they would certainly see each other once more.

They stepped closer.

Tornac beamed Rose, before turning to Ailis. "The coast is clear. If all goes as planned, we should not have any troubles until the King hears of our flight," he said.

Tornac was dressed for travel, in a wool shirt and a jerkin and thick leggings covered by a long, dark cloak.

Ailis nodded, delighted with the information. "Yes, yes," said Ailis briskly. "If we keep standing here the king will return and we shan't have worry about our traveling, now will we?"

Tornac gave Ailis a hard look. "Then get moving," he said. "The horses are waiting."

They slowly continued down the grave path, looking to the shadows to see if anyone was there. There was no one but the birds, and each time one squawked Rose felt her heart begin to pound. After a short time, Ailis let out a huff and pulled Rose forward. "We have no time for this," she grumbled, speeding ahead into the center of the city, dragging Rose after her.

The sun was only beginning to ascend down the sky and they passed through the gate arch its dark shadow fell over them. Before them, stretched a wide thoroughfare shadowed by towering stone and glass buildings of every kind.

Urû'baen was divided what was called The Three Circles, each circle was divided to segregate the wealth of the citizens of the capital and each Circle was guarded. The castle was at the center of the inner most Circle, called the Inner Circle and it was for the wealthiest; the Middle Circle consisted of the middleclass and the market; the Outer Circle, was the largest, it was reserved for the lowest public of Urû'baen.

Tornac took a sharp right and lead them to a picket where horses could be tied to for rest or their rider's convince. There were three horses tied to this post.

"Come on, Rose, we are in quite a rush," Tornac said holding his hands out to Rose.

"I've noticed," she said handing him her bag and viol case, which he took and attached to the saddle of a strawberry roan with a broad blaze down her nose.

There two other horses picketed along with the roan, both were stallions, one a fine-looking bay and the other sheer black. The black one Rose recognized as Tornac's horse, Shadowless. Both stallions were loaded with heavy packs. Once Tornac had attached the pack he went to Shadowless and picked though his large saddlebag and pulled a thick cloth out. He tossed the object to Rose, who caught it on pure reflex, before he un-picketed the stallion. He quickly mounted the horse and turned it around, waiting for them to do the same.

Ailis finally released Rose's hand to untie the other two mounts, allowing Rose to unravel a long, dark blue cloak made of thick fleece. Without a second thought she put it on, relishing in the relief it brought from the cool air. Ailis came back, leading the horses, and pulled the deep hood up over Rose's head tightly, hiding her face in the shadow.

Ailis assisted Rose with mounting the roan, and once she on top she handed the reins to Rose. With practiced grace, Ailis climbed onto the stallion and turned to Rose, her warm brown eyes serious. "Keep the hood up and ride closely," Ailis said.

Tornac beckoned his horse froth, Rose and Ailis followed suit. The city stretched dizzyingly high above them; Rose craned her neck back to look up, feeling as if the whole thing would topple down on her, crushing her with a vast weight of stone and glass. The roads lead to low ached gates of the Middle circle and the market. They passed though these gates unchallenged.

Sunlight and bell notes spilled simultaneously over the market and wide twisting alleys, picking out the glittering domes of the glass and stone towers. The alleys were teeming with people laden in adornments, bakers walking trays of fresh loaves, donkeys and pack mules loaded down with huge panniers or sacks, women in lushly embellished robes their fingers sparkling with shining rings, children were squabbling and playing, and hawkers marching up and down the paths loudly calling the virtues of their wares.

Tornac glowered at the sight, his scar twisting his face into a painful grimace. Rose licked her lips remembering Ailis' warning to stay close. What challenge it would be to stay close to anyone one person in such a crowd as this!

It was demanding task to keep close, forcing all focus on keeping the horse on path and traverse through the frenetic population. A task that would not be possible without bestowing extensive attention to what she was doing.

Tornac was hurrying them down the street, anxious to leave the capital, and it seemed to Rose that he was driven by the same madness took hold of her. It ran through her veins like fire, driving her to leave behind all she ever knew behind, demanding at she put forth blind faith and pray that she held no regret later, all while knowing very well that she very well may.

At last they came to the Outer Circle, Tornac hastened their pace further, passing by the beggars and the destitute without a glance, until they reached the dark gates of Urû'baen.

"Now comes the real test. I hope that you enjoy a good race as we are about to partake in the one for our lives," said Tornac, and with that said, the old swordsman forced his stallion into a reckless gallop, his white hair rippled in the wind like waves from the sea. Rose followed close behind, surprised that her roan could keep such a swift pace. Ailis brought up the end leaning low on the bay.

.

Only when Urû'baen was but a spot in the distance, did Tornac slow their tiring pace and took them off the road. The strawberry roan, who Tornac seemed to have picked for her speed and endurance, was lathered with sweat and was beginning to tremble. They paused only briefly, going down to the river to water and allowing the horse to drink as they stretched their legs and hastily eat a meager dinner of hard beard and cheese before continuing. The landscape stretched out before them on a slight decline. The Ramr River ran to their right, broad and rapid, so that Rose could not see the other side. It was only this morning that I woke up on the other side, Rose thought sadly.

They kept at a slow trot though the night was in almost total darkness. The heavy clouds meant that little moonlight aided their way. All Rose could see the dark shape of Tornac and Ailis, the darker shapes of sparse trees on either side, and the faint glint of the grass ahead of them. The horses, though exhausted from their mad dash, were sure-footed and never stumbled. Rose leaned against the roan's neck completely spent.

Only when the skies begin to lighten did Tornac lead them into a small forest of ash and oak. The shadows were lengthened, and immediately a chill fell around them. Ailis was looking around as she rode, having taken lead hardly a moment ago, seemingly hunting for something, and at last she nodded and led them slightly away from the loose track they were following, to a small dingle.

The coarse grass within the clearing shelved down to a spring that bubbled out of a ledge of rock, on top of which grew briars and woodbines. Half hidden by this growth was a small smooth cave with a sandy floor, where travelers had clearly made camp many times before. It even had a rough hearth of jagged stone.

"This place is enchanted to give all who visit shelter. For today and tonight it will grant us protection from our enemies." Ailis said, dismounting her bay stallion.

"I'll go and find us firewood," said Tornac groggily. He swung his leg off of Shadowless and sauntered off into woods, leaving the women in peace to wash if they pleased.

Rose was numb with cold and tiredness and was quite glad to slide off of her horse who she decided to call Eowyn. Slowly, she began to unsaddled the roan, aching for sleep. Rose brushed Eowyn free of sweat and mud with a roughly bristled comb Ailis handed to her and ensured that she was able to graze and drank as she needed before stumbling tiredly into the cave.

Ailis was sitting down, her back facing Rose with her head in her hands. Rose cautiously sat down beside her. Ailis lifted her head and eyed her with an emotion Rose could not distinguish. "I'm sorry," The woman said suddenly and turned away.

Rose's heart sped and blood rushed to her face, distrust filled her body on its own accord. She pursed her lips then she turned away.

"Do you wish to wash?" Ailis asked quietly after a long time.

Rose shook her head, her face burning. "No, I only wish to sleep."

A hand grasped her shoulder and squeezed it. "Then rest," Ailis said. "I'm sure you desire to be sober before my explanation."

Rose nodded. She laid down clutched the cloak to her body, wishing for the soft, feathered mattress back in Urû'baen. She wondered briefly about what she had done, and what this would mean for her now, but the thoughts were empty and sooner than she would have liked she fell asleep.