"It seems so small from here," Hal commented wryly, her hand held above her brows to block the sun from her eyes. She was squinting at the outline of Teirm, which was still many miles out, sequestered behind the high white walls that had come to define it.

"Trust me, it's not," Murtagh told her. "It's still a fairly large city. One of the biggest, in fact."

"Hmm."

"You are hard to impress."

Hal shot him a smile that was slow to form, but he gladly returned it anyway. It was like this now: slow, quiet smiles as though she were testing them out and seeing how they fit in this new stage of her life. Laughter came and went just as quickly. Like it was too painful for either of them. But it was, he knew, better than nothing. She was still cautious around him, as though gauging his moods day-by-day. And he felt guilty for it, even though he knew Hal would tell him not to be. But she had given him a second chance; he did not want to mess this up.

They both turned back to stare at the first sight of civilization they had seen since leaving Illium. Standing on the edge of one of the smaller mountain peaks in the Spine gave them an astounding vantage point for several miles in any direction of their choosing. They had already covered a lot of ground. They could probably reach the city in a few more days.

"So, what do we plan to do?" Hal asked, dropping her hand and turning to face him. "Are we going to don disguises and sneak into the city to steal food and clothes?"

"And you wonder why people think you so nefarious." She rolled her eyes, but before she could retort, he continued. "And we," he said, gesturing between the two of them, "aren't doing anything."

"Don't you dare say it, rider —"

"I'm going in alone."

Hal threw up her hands in exasperation. "Of course, you are. Because working together only applies when I'm the one making decisions."

"That's not true and that's not fair."

"Then enlighten me, oh great Dragon Rider, as to why I should stay behind when it is you who is more likely to be recognized?"

Murtagh opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. Hal arched a brow, waiting for a response, both of them knowing that he did not have a good one prepared. But still, he had to try. His dignity would not allow him to go down without a fight.

"You do not understand how these places work," he began.

"Uh-huh."

"We do not have money, so you would have to know where to go in order to barter for the goods we need. The traders will assume you have no experience and will attempt to swindle you. And if they do and you catch them, your temper will give you away."

"My temper?!"

"Yes, Hal, your temper. Or need I remind you that when you do not get your way you resort to name-calling and insulting one's masculinity?"

"Well then men shouldn't be such fragile little kittens."

"That, Hal, is my point."

"Fine," she snapped. "If we're doing hypotheticals here, let's talk about you then, rider."

"What about me?"

"Murtagh, I love you, but you didn't exactly leave a stellar impression when you were last on mainland."

"Oh, really? So, we're aiming below the belt then? That's how you want to approach this?" But his voice was light as he tried to keep from laughing. And only Hal could make such a comment without him feeling entirely miserable or angry.

"It's not below the belt, little kitten. It's the truth. You can't go in alone. Besides, you are too…wary of others. By looking at everyone suspiciously, you yourself look suspicious."

She does have a point, Thorn commented, projecting into both of their minds from his spot behind them, waiting to be told what their next move would be. Even with the atrocious beard—

"Thorn, you were the one who told me to grow it out again," Murtagh reminded him with a tight grumble under his breath. Hal snorted, then quickly hid her laughter when Murtagh glared at her.

—if someone were to look too carefully, they might recognize you. Not to mention the soldiers guarding the front probably would.

"Not to mention the soldiers guarding the front," Hal repeated, smug with her victory. "We need to get in and out undetected. With you, it's too much of a risk."

"I'm not sending you in alone. Over my dead body."

"You're adorable when you care, little kitten."

"Well, we can either find a compromise now or the plan is on hold until we do," he said firmly, and on this, he would not budge. "I'll not risk your safety over a few provisions and horses."

"Nor will I risk yours," Hal sputtered indignantly, as if it were a competition over who cared more about the other. "And besides, we don't have anything of value to trade for horses. Unless you plan on selling your body, that is."

Both of his brows shot up in disbelief and, admittedly, a bit of hurt. "You think I'm only worth two horses?"

"Well, they'd be the finest horses in the stable, of course."

"I'm at least worth four."

Her face scrunched up in thought, and it was so damn cute Murtagh wanted to kiss her. "You are, without a doubt, worth ten Nani's — how about that?"

"Now that, I can accept." Hal grinned, as did he, at their moment of jest. And for a few seconds, everything felt normal again. He missed their banter, and how they had used it to dance around each other and their growing affections. But like all things these days, it did not last, and Hal turned her head to stare back at the vast land that stood between them and the city.

"In all seriousness," she continued, "how should we move forward with nothing to barter, me with no understanding of the concept of money, and you who could set off an alarm alerting everyone to our presence?"

Murtagh sighed. "Let's climb down this mountainside," he said by way of response. "Maybe an answer will come to me on the way." He looked at her sideways and gave her a disbelieving shake of his head as he began to walk. "Two horses," he muttered with derision, and he delighted in the sound of Hal cackling laugh all the way down.

…

Murtagh was right: Teirm was more overwhelming up close, and Hal felt her stomach squirm uncomfortably with the first real bout of nerves she had felt since she and Murtagh had agreed to put this semblance of a plan into motion. There was too much commotion hitting all of her, now heightened, senses at once. The shouts of the marketplace, the smells wafting out of the nearby animal stalls, the crowd so thick that she was jostled around like she was nothing. And one thing she had not expected was how much she would physically stand out. She was the only one with her deep brown complexion in a sea of pale skin, blonde and brown hair, and green and blue eyes. People kept shooting her confused looks, and Hal realized that perhaps she did draw more attention than Murtagh.

Because of course she did.

"Are you all right?" Murtagh asked, appearing at her side. He placed a firm hand on her shoulder and pulled her out of the way of a harried looking woman with wrapped meats stacked so high in her arms they looked like they might topple over.

"It's a bit much," Hal admitted, feeling sheepish after the bravado she had put on a few days before. "And people keep staring at me. I didn't realize no one here would really look like me."

Murtagh gave her an apologetic look. Hal tried not to wince at the features of his face, magically and slightly altered so that he did not appear too much like himself. Brown eyes instead of his steely, mesmerizing grey, a slightly wider nose, and black hair instead of brown. Of course, he kept the beard. It was the only compromise they could reach, both soon realizing that it was in their best interest to go in together. No one would suspect Murtagh to be traveling with a companion, so Hal added to his disguise. And, admittedly, each felt more comfortable with the other standing beside them, the only familiarity in the entire city.

"Come, let's go get what we need so we can leave. I feel anxious being in such a large setting surrounded by former enemies."

Hal couldn't agree more, and took his hand as she huddled against him, trying to lean out of the way of those passing by in a hurry. Murtagh gripped her tightly as he weaved confidently though the crowd.

"Did you get what you needed from that merchant?" Hal asked him.

"I did. Although I feel bad for cutting his purse."

"And here I was thinking you a changed man."

"Do not deny that it was my penchant for lawlessness that attracted you to me."

"That and the fact that you have a dragon."

She cocked her head to the side as he watched her in return, her expression teasing. "Careful now," he warned her. "Any more flattery of that regard and I may shame us both in public."

"Promise?"

Grinning, he turned and they continued walking. Without Hal having to ask, he would point things out to her and explain what they were: the butcher's shop where one could by fresh meat, the blacksmith who contorts iron and metals into tools, and much more. It felt like a completely different world compared to her simple little village, where the tools were made of wood and stone, the homes clay. And due to the year-round heat, they certainly wore less layers. Hal was relieved she at least wore her trousers, tunic, boots, and jerkin, but she was perhaps the only woman not in skirts.

As they walked, Hal would occasionally gesture to the people arguing at the increase in prices over goods and ask him to clarify their conversation. It was nice, to have him fall back into the role of teacher and explain things to Hal that were otherwise unknown to her. And as he spoke, she leaned her head against his shoulder and smiled, feeling a small but powerful contentedness. She was glad he had chosen to come. She knew much of his demeanor now was to try and make up for his behavior, and she also knew this was the first step of many. But he had taken it, and for that, she was immensely grateful.

When they finally stopped, they were standing in front of a small shop, Murtagh stepping forward to hold the door open for Hal. She was relieved that the noise from outside grew considerably dim once the door closed behind them, and Hal took to scanning the shelves and walls in curiosity. Murtagh was mumbling under his breath as he scoured the items as well. Hal smiled softly as she watched him, hands behind her back as she kept a few paces behind. He grabbed two pairs of gloves, one for himself to hide the gedwëy ignasia during their travels and because of the dropping temperatures; fur-lined leggings and cloaks for each of them, spare tunics and trousers, and a few other random items.

Even though his eyes weren't quite his eyes, there was something about the quizzical brow that seemed to make Hal forget he was even wearing a disguise. She could just see his face so clearly regardless. And something about his expression, his focus as he shopped, made her heart flutter as she watched him. Just as he turned, having caught her staring, Hal rushed forward and stood on her toes as she cupped his cheek to kiss him. It was soft and sweet, but she felt her heart race all the same.

As she pulled away, Murtagh was blushing and trying not to smile. "What was that for?"

She shook her head. "No reason."

And his endearing smile made her want to go in for another surprise kiss, but she refrained.

Up front, a middle-aged man was waiting for them with a patient but curious expression, especially when his eyes took in Hal with interest. "You folks new to Teirm?" he asked, a strange lilt in his voice. Perhaps an accent of some kind.

"Aye," Murtagh responded. "Passing through, actually."

The man nodded towards Hal. "This your wife?"

Hal blushed, as did Murtagh. But considering there were not a lot of appropriate responses for a man and woman to be traveling alone together, the dragon rider responded, "Yes. Married a few days ago, actually."

"Well, congratulations!" the man boomed. "And I hope it's not too forward of me, Miss, to say how lovely you are. Your husband is a lucky man."

"Oh," Hal exclaimed, finally finding her voice. "Thank you, that's very kind of you."

The man laughed at that. "What can help you with today?"

"Just these," Murtagh responded, setting the supplies down that he had grabbed.

As the man confirmed the price of the individual goods, Hal's gaze drifted over the shopkeeper's shoulder and towards the papers nailed to the wall behind him. As her eyes scanned further to the left, she noticed a few men with the word WANTED written in bold lettering above their images. She blinked in surprise at the one familiar face on the notice board.

"Murtagh Morzansson."

Murtagh stiffened and Hal whipped her head around. "What?"

"The man you're looking at," said the shopkeeper, gesturing to the wanted poster that had caught Hal's eyes, "is named Murtagh Morzansson. You hear about him where you're from?"

Hal had to refrain from looking at Murtagh at this question. "Only a little. I'm afraid my small village had a hard time staying abreast of the happenings of the war. We were rather far removed."

"Then you and your village were very fortunate."

Hal barely managed a non-comital, "Aye."

"He's a real piece of work," the man continued with a shake of his head. "My nephew fought against the soldiers he led; lost a leg for it."

"Oh. I'm so sorry," Hal said weakly, regretting her wandering eye.

"You ain't hack off his leg so you have nothing to be sorry for," he said dismissively. "It took a while, but the queen gave out stipends to those who fought who can no longer support themselves. It don't make up for what he's lost but…it's better than nothing. And I'm damn proud of him for standing up for his beliefs, so, there's really not much else to say."

Murtagh had gone deathly quiet beside her, and Hal smoothly wrapped her arm in his while maintaining eye contact with the shopkeeper. Subtle, so she didn't draw attention to Murtagh. "And what of the others on the wall? Their bounty is much higher than Morzansson's."

The man snorted and shook his head. "Don't get me lying as to why. There were rumors circulating after Murtagh fled that he was somehow involved in defeating Galbatorix. A few soldiers who happened to be nearby when Eragon Shadeslayer and his party fled the destruction of the castle said they saw Murtagh looking mighty cozy with the soon-to-be queen before he up and disappeared."

Now Hal's grip on Murtagh tightened, her face growing stiff. "I see."

"Yep, but you can only put so much faith in the word of soldiers who had just been fighting for gods know how long. Seems phony to me, but the rumor persisted for nearly a year afterwards. But anyway, they say Shadeslayer went after him but returned emptyhanded. Some speculated he killed the traitor and left his body to rot."

"You sound skeptical."

The man shrugged. "From what I hear, Eragon was a good man. Good soldier. Also spoke in favor of Morzansson before he left. If Morzansson really did have a hand in destroying Galbatorix, maybe he learned the errors of his ways and switched sides — which would explain the low bounty. And I don't think Eragon would've killed him after that. Hell, the queen hasn't openly killed a single supporter of Galbatorix, even those who were willing — well, so long as they cooperated, mind you. A mistake if you ask me, but that's the kind of ruler she wanted to be, and I respect her for it. But nah, I think Shadeslayer let Morzansson go. And the queen has openly advocated for his pardon. I think the bounty is more for show, personally. But I doubt we'll ever see him again. He's still not exactly a popular figure around here. But I've been wrong before."

Hal forced herself to smile.

"But I didn't finish answering your first question," the shopkeeper added. "The others on the wall are suspected of treason. There have been a series of uprisings in a few of the other cities due to laws being placed on magic and magic users. These folks are believed to be behind it."

Both Hal and Murtagh started at this. "What laws?" Murtagh asked, finally speaking, his brows pinched with concern and interest.

"Nothing major if you ask me, but no one does. About a year after Galbatorix was defeated, the queen put guidelines in place to make sure magic users didn't abuse their powers again. Asked that they agree to submit their name to a ledger — a registry of users, if you will. She has a group of magicians known as Du Vrangr Gata making sure all magic users are performing safe and legal magic. Nothing too maddening but got quite a few folks riled up in some parts — rumors of protests still pop up on occasion. They feel like they're being accused of crimes they haven't committed yet. Unfairly targeted because of what Galbatorix did."

"What happens if you don't give your name?" Hal asked.

The man shrugged. "In my opinion, if you aren't doing anything wrong, why should it matter?"

"But a non-magic user could just as easily wake up one day and decide to kill his neighbor, beat his wife, or gamble his family's earnings, yet we don't register non-magic users for crimes they may or may not commit. By demonstrating a complete lack of trust in one particular group, you set that group apart from the rest. It leads others to believe they have reason to be wary of them and that's not fair."

The man eyed Hal curiously, then looked at Murtagh. "You're mighty sharp then, because that's what all the backlash has been about. But what can they complain about, eh? If they're the ones with magic, then they're more powerful by default. Where's the fairness in that? If another decides to abuse his abilities like Galbatorix did, we're ruined all over again. People are still scared, that ain't gonna change anytime soon. But we should at least be allowed to protect ourselves this time. If it's for a good cause, I don't see what the harm is."

"That's a fair point," Hal said, just to try and not seem too disagreeable. But she was unsettled by this man's thinking, and she could tell from his pinched brows that Murtagh was as well.

The store owner turned back to Murtagh, taking no notice of the tension, and said, "Alright, here's what I can offer you for these pieces."

…

"Are you upset with me?"

Hal turned in surprise as Murtagh joined her outside, the noise of the city jarring once more. She had been staring up at the greying sky, grimacing at the thought of it raining before they finished what they came here to do. She tied her new cloak around her shoulders, unaccustomed to such a garment but grateful for it all the same. "Why on earth would I be upset with you?" she asked as he handed her the leather gloves as well. "I thought you handled yourself well back there."

But his expression remained stoic. "You seemed…put out, when the shopkeeper mentioned that others saw me healing Nasuada before I left."

"Ah," was Hal's initial response, embarrassed that he had even noticed. "That."

"Hal, I promise it wasn't —"

"Rider," Hal said quickly, "you are not obligated to apologize to me for living a life I was not yet part of. Nor will I let you. You have nothing to be sorry for in this matter. And despite my…propensity for comparison when it comes to Nasuada, I will never forget that it was your love for her that spared your life and Thorn's. And that means more to me than my childish jealousy. So please, don't be sorry."

His shoulders fell, and Hal couldn't tell if he was relieved or dismayed by this conversation. "All right," he said, "but I will stop apologizing when you stop comparing yourself to Nasuada."

"It's not the same."

"No, it's not. But they are both self-demeaning habits of ours we need to break. I love you. Only you. When I look at you, I only see Halen. My Halen. Nothing more. And no one else. Do you believe me?"

Her face was hot, for she never failed to be moved by his emotional proclamations. His gaze was boring into hers and, even if his eyes were magically altered, she still felt a pleasant chill down her spine at the look.

"I believe you," she said, for it was true. "And you need not apologize because you once loved Nasuada. Because I know that when all is said and done, you are mine."

"I am completely and utterly yours," he breathed, stepping in closer to press his lips to hers. And perhaps it was his eagerness to prove, not just with words, how serious he was, because Hal was easily and quickly swept up in his touch.

It pained her to pull away, but she knew she must for the sake of public decency. "Come on. Let's finish up so we can leave. Otherwise, I'll begin to forget what you actually look like."

Chuckling, he pulled on his cloak and gloves as well. Then he took her arm once more, their smaller goods in his bag. Following the directions from the shopkeeper, they moved towards the stables in step with one another, their pace easygoing as Hal continued to gawk at the stalls. Casually, she asked, "What do you think of that law the man mentioned. The one about magic users?"

Murtagh snorted with disdain. "As bull-headed as you called it out to be. It's no surprise that the Varden thought it up."

Hal tried not to laugh. "Clearly, we have strong feelings about this."

"Try as I might, I could never make myself agree with their policies. They were never good at leaving space for nuance. And I guarantee you, it will become more hassle than it is worth. If people are still pushing back against it, especially after all this time, then more protests and issues will come. But it does concern me, what this could mean for us."

"How so?"

Keep your magic to yourself, he responded inside her mind. Shade or not, I do not want others knowing what you are capable of.

Hal nodded, feeling anxious at his sudden cautiousness. "Okay," she said aloud.

"Sweet treats for a sweet girl?" a voice suddenly asked, and sugared looking pastries skewered on a stick were shoved in front of Hal's face. She stepped back in surprise at the same time the sweet smell of cinnamon and baked bread hit her nose. All manner of serious conversation fell from her mind. She oohed in delight, her eyes widening. It looked like a typical bread dough, but it had been rolled into several small spheres, dipped in a glaze then coated in cinnamon, sugar, and perhaps another powder Hal couldn't quite make out. But it looked delightful.

"How much?" Murtagh asked, reaching for the spare coins in his pocket, quickly taken by the look in her eyes. The merchant's eyes gleamed in delight at the quick purchase and Hal left, staring at the dessert in wonder, holding it close to her face as if it might change before her eyes if she eyed it from a shorter distance. "Have you ever had such a thing, rider?" she asked Murtagh.

He grinned at her fascination. "I can't say that I have."

Hal pulled him off to the side, out of the busy street and removed one of her gloves. She plucked one of the tiny balls off the stick and held it up to him to try first. His cheeks were red, eyes shining, as he opened his mouth so that Hal could feed him. He teasingly nibbled on the tip of her finger and Hal yelped, at first thinking he had been about to drop it, before laughing when she realized what he had done. He was nodding approvingly, so Hal pulled off another and popped it into her mouth. She felt a burst of flavor on her tongue and her eyes widened again.

"It's delicious!"

They ate the rest with smiles on their faces, easily waylaid by the much-needed treat. She licked the remaining sugar off her fingers as they continued forward towards the stables, their spirits lifted a bit by the food. They paused at a few more booths, taking a more leisurely approach so that Hal could peek at the goodies and trinkets, many items she had never seen before. Beautiful jewels and flowers, garments and silks, wools for the fast-approaching winter, and more. At one point, Murtagh had stalled at a booth, Hal having walked on without him until she turned and saw him eyeing something carefully. But she called him over and his head jerked, as if he also hadn't realized they had nearly become separated.

"See anything interesting?" she asked him teasingly.

His cheeks seemed redder than usual, but he shook his head. "Nothing worth spending our hard-earned money on," he retorted with a grin. Hal laughed at that.

She was in awe at so many things that were just readily available for purchase. While she liked the idea of not having to hunt or make everything by hand all the time, she wasn't sure if she'd want to have to deal with currency either. It seemed vastly complicated based on how seriously everyone was taking their purchases. But to have such skill and luxuries on display…perhaps there was a compromise to be had between the two.

Murtagh suddenly lost his balance, but quickly caught himself. "Whoa now, rider, are you all right?"

"Yes," he said, his voice breathless with surprise. "Yes, just had a slight dizzying spell. I'm fine now."

"We probably do need to eat," Hal grimaced, only now remembering that her hunger was not what it once was. She did not need to eat as often, but when she did, she was ravenous. She tried to maintain normalcy so that her body wouldn't become too accustomed to longer gaps between meals, but it had been hours since their measly breakfast of fish from the river.

"Aye," Murtagh agreed. "I think there's a pub back where we came, which is towards the stables anyway. We can stop there."

However, as they rejoined the crowd converging towards the main square, Murtagh's grip on her tightened in warning, and Hal looked up at him expectantly. Suddenly, she realized that he didn't look hungry. He looked sickly. And she could see his eyes laced with concern.

"It would seem we are being followed," he said, his voice so low that, had Hal not been a Shade, she may not have even heard him.

"Followed? How can you be sure?"

"I noticed them earlier, back when we first entered the market. I didn't say anything because I couldn't be sure if we were being tailed. But now I am."

"Do you think they know who you are?"

His grip on her tightened even further. "I do not think it is I who has attracted their attention."

Hal saw fury and protectiveness flash in his gaze as he kept his eyes forward and she felt her chest tighten in understanding. "Damn, these good looks," she muttered dryly.

Murtagh's lips twitched. "Do not make me laugh, this is a precarious situation we find ourselves in."

"What are we going to do? Should we try and lose them in the crowd?"

"I don't want to draw unnecessary attention. Especially not the soldiers."

Of course. She was so stupid to not think of that first. She kept her attention forward, still having no idea who was following them. But Murtagh seemed to know exactly what he was doing, and Hal could practically hear his brain working to come up with a plan as he simultaneously maneuvered her through the crowd. They had no weapons — both Zar'roc and the hand-and-a-half sword were too noticeable and too risky to carry (not to mention others may be wary, wondering why they were so heavily armed, which also meant Hal's bow and arrows had remained with Thorn as well). She only had her usual blade in her boot, Murtagh's on his hip. And now, Hal had even more reason to be wary of using her magic outside of alerting Thea thanks to this magical registry. But she could not put it all on Murtagh to be their sole line of defense.

"Do you know how many there are?" Hal asked.

"Four, maybe five."

"Do you think they can use magic?"

"Hard to say for certain. They have not tried anything so they may be wary of us being magic users as well."

They needed to know before they engaged in any sort of defense. Running in blind could prove too risky.

"Halen, there's something else you should know," Murtagh continued, breathing heavily.

Oh no. Her full name. She swallowed nervously.

"I think I've been drugged."

"What —?!"

"Shh, he said quickly, and Hal realized he was beginning to lean on her. "Don't draw attention. Just follow me." He turned towards an alleyway, and Hal began to protest. "We have to fight them, Halen," he said, cutting her off. "And we have to do it quickly, before I pass out."

"Murtagh, we need to heal you!"

"No, they will strike before we have the time." Sure enough, Hal could hear footsteps following behind them and she felt her heart begin to race. The alley was long, a narrow row of shops and homes. But it was quiet, and there was less noise and traffic the further in they went. And soon, they were met with nothing more than a brick wall, with nowhere else to go except back the way they had come. Which was currently blocked by the five men in question.

"You're outnumbered," one man said, stepping forward his jaw square and tight with seriousness. "And you're overpowered. Come forward quietly and no one has to get hurt."

Hal's grip on Murtagh tightened with a fierce protectiveness. But she didn't respond. Trying to straighten himself up as if he wasn't incapable of doing it on his own, Murtagh rebutted, "Turn around. Leave us alone. And you may still get to keep your lives."

The men looked at each other and snickered. "You're in no condition to stop us," the man continued. "All we have to do is wait out the drugs already in your system, and she'll be gone by the time you come to."

"I will kill you if you touch her," his voice low and controlled. "And I will do so slowly." But Hal shivered at the underlying threat suddenly present. She had never heard his voice take on such a hard edge before. And even in a drug-induced haze, his eyes were shadowed with a calculating and dangerous rage.

"You're in no position to make threats," the man snarled. Yet, even as he spoke, each man removed a dagger hidden in their waistbands, pockets, boots, or up their sleeves, looking a tad more wary. Clearly, even drugged, Murtagh had still managed to frighten them. Hal felt her heart begin to race at the silent threat, and Murtagh sniffed in disgust. "You're heavily armed for men in the business of kidnapping unarmed women."

"We take precautions," the man said slowly, but he was eyeing Hal as he spoke, his eyes narrowed in confusion. She stared back enough to see his eyes flicker to Murtagh and she turned to look at him as well. He was fighting to stay conscious, his arm around her shoulder growing heavier as his weight shifted more onto her. His face was pale, eyes glazing, but he was doing his best to stay —

And then Hal realized what had happened.

The sweets, from the stall. The merchant manning the exchange must be in on it, had marked them by reaching out to them so suddenly. Whatever poison was in Murtagh's system had to have come from the baked goods — they had consumed nothing else. Murtagh was clearly showing the effects. But aside from a rise in her pulse that may just be adrenaline, she felt fine. She imagined it would probably be a few more hours before the poison managed to properly infiltrate her system.

And the men were starting to take notice.

Realizing she had an advantage, Hal moved to set Murtagh against the wall behind them, hopefully out of harm's way. The men shifted in their spots, eyeing her with trepidation as they too seemed to realize that if anyone should be close to passing out, it should be Hal.

"Halen!" Murtagh grunted, his voice pained. And she could picture him trying to remain upright to aid her despite being in no condition to do so.

She waited for the men to strike first, turning to make herself a smaller target as she ran through her exercises with Murtagh and Invidia. And, in the back of her mind, she hoped they would sense something was off and leave on their own fruition. But instead, one man shouted as he lunged towards her, and the others quickly followed behind him, weapons raised.

And it was as if time began to slow. They were untrained, that much was obvious. They held their weapons haphazardly, too tightly. And they attacked at random, not strategically and not quite all at once to overwhelm her, obviously too concerned about getting near another's blade and taking a hit not meant for them. The first man to reach her had his hand raised as if to bring the dagger down on her head, a bizarre choice, assuming he meant to take her alive and with as few injuries as possible. Not far from him, another was moving in on her front. Another behind.

She had to control her strength. She needed to protect herself and Murtagh, but she could not let them think for a moment she was anything less than well trained. So, she pulled back as much as she could. It wasn't needed. She dodged the blade and grabbed the first man's wrist, twisting it sharply that he screamed in surprise even though she had done little damage. Sprained it, most likely. He dropped his weapon and Hal put her foot on top of it and kicked it away. Then she spun the man around so that his back was pressed against her chest, turning just as the man moving towards her front struck, his blow landing on his friend's shoulder, who screamed in pain. Hal pushed the injured attacker into the other with enough strength to send them both tumbling down, her back leg kicking out to strike the other man in the groin before he got too close. And when he crouched over, dropping his weapon, face red in agony, Hal elbowed him in the throat and he collapsed, gasping for air.

She heard Murtagh grunting now that the commotion around her had quieted, and she turned to find him struggling to grapple with the fourth man as the fifth man was sneaking up behind him.

"MURTAGH!"

But despite her attempt to lunge towards him, she was too late as the assailant plunged his dagger into Murtagh's side. He froze in shock, the pain registering on his face as Hal screamed in anguish and fury. And as the man pulled his dagger out, Murtagh's flinch before he collapsed felt like her chest was being stomped on.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Hal didn't even register the fear on the man's face when she reached him. She didn't even question what her plan was. She just wanted them to suffer.

She gripped the first man by the throat and tossing him several feet into the air as he screamed at the helplessness of his descent. She turned towards the other one before the man even hit the ground with a painful lurch, stalking towards him as he stumbled back and fell. "No, please don't hurt me!"

Hal gripped his hair, swinging his head and slamming it into the brick wall once, and he was immediately unconscious as she dropped him. She heard the man she had thrown scrambling to his feet, but he screamed something at her that made her freeze in shock.

"Get away from me, monster!"

Hal blinked. And her rage lessened as she felt like she was being snapped back into her body. Monster? Why would he —?

Oh. Oh no.

Now her hands began to shake, her mind finally catching up with her actions. She had moved too fast. Faster than any human man would have been able to properly follow. And she had thrown this man practically across the yard. Just that quickly she had lost her focus, lost control of her strength. She had given herself away to being something not quite human.

"HELP!" The man turned to run, and Hal felt her throat clench as she froze in a panic. There was no way she'd be able to explain taking on five men of this size on her own. And Murtagh needed aid, he was in no condition to —

A blade cut through the air over her shoulder, past her cheek. And Hal watched with widening eyes as it rotated once in the air before finding its mark. It plunged itself into the middle of the man's back, and he dropped with a yelp, falling silent.

Hal spun around to find Murtagh struggling to stand, one hand against the wall for support. He moved to clutch his bleeding side and Hal felt tears of fear spring into her eyes as thunder clapped overhead.

"Murtagh!"

She rushed to his side as he dropped once more, falling to her knees in front of him to catch him before he completely toppled over. "Oh gods," she cried, covering his bloodied hand with hers to help apply pressure. "We need to heal you."

"No, no magic, Hal. It's too risky."

"Then it is a risk I am willing to take!"

"Hal, you have healed me without magic before and I was in worse shape than this."

"But —"

"Let's get away from here before we are discovered," Murtagh said, gritting his teeth. "Pull the hood of my cloak up. I cannot hold the magic distorting my features any longer."

"Murtagh —" Hal began in warning.

"Please, Halen."

She was wasting precious time arguing with him, so she clamped her mouth shut and did as he said. Clasping the cloak over his shoulders, she pulled the hood up and helped him to his feet. "I've got you," Hal assured him, noticing he was hesitant to put too much weight on her. But as soon as she spoke, he exhaled and leaned against her. "I know you do, iet dunei."

Hal was grateful for the cover of the rain as it began to pour down, even if was the coldest rain she had ever felt, as it sent the city residents scrambling for their homes, leaving the streets fairly empty. They needed shelter and they needed medical supplies so that Hal could stitch Murtagh up and let him rest from whatever toxins had been entered into his system. He probably only had a few more minutes, and she was pretty sure that it was only due to his sheer stubbornness that he hadn't passed out yet. But she knew their options were limited, especially with his face exposed. They needed to avoid the soldiers and any additional, unwanted attention.

The rain was falling heavily, fat drops of it hitting the paved streets and reverberating in the air around them. Teeth chattering, Hal was blinking rapidly, trying to keep the rain out of her eyes so that she could see where she was going. She was keenly aware of Murtagh's labored breathing, the exhaustion in his steps and muscles.

Hal didn't realize where they were going until they were standing back on the front steps of the shop from earlier. They should have the supplies she needed, and it would grant them a reprieve from the rain. But as for Murtagh's identity…it would just have to be a risk.

She raised her hand and knocked, hoping it was loud enough to be heard over all the rain. She waited a few moments, then knocked again, just as the door swung open.

"We're closed — you two? Good heavens, what happened?"

The shopkeeper's expression went from annoyance to recognition to concerned bewilderment in the span of a heartbeat. "Please," Hal begged, "we were attacked by…" She faltered, unsure of the correct term.

"Slavers," Murtagh mumbled, his voice hoarse. He sounded half-asleep. Or half-dead. Hal's heart began to seize with worry.

"Dammit all," the man swore. "I've been telling the soldiers for months that this has been an issue and they laugh me off. Lazy asses." He stared from Hal to Murtagh. "Come inside, quickly. Before you catch your death."

Hal inwardly groaned at the expression, but gratefully stepped over the threshold, half-carrying Murtagh in as the shopkeeper closed the door behind them.