A/N: Oh my. Hello. I apologize for this unexpected absence. As Hayley Williams once said, "I was in a depression, but I'm trying to come out of it." And I'm trying not to overthink whether or not my story is good or not. I just want you wonderful and supportive readers to enjoy it. Hopefully this won't become a habit.
"Will. You. Re—lax." Giles hissed under his breath.
Hal shot him a dirty look. "If my nervous habits bother you, you are more than welcome to take your perfectly good set of legs and walk away."
"Your fidgeting is making me nervous."
"Then stop staring at me!"
Giles threw his hands up in the air. "If Murtagh makes it through this hearing, I'm going to kill him."
Hal could not think of a better retort and stuck her tongue out at the man as she folded her arms across her chest. They were waiting in the city square, along with a thick crowd of people who were whispering and gossiping under bated breath, which did nothing to ease Hal's mind.
"The queen has to go for execution, right? Surely with his crimes —"
"She hasn't executed anyone, at least not that we know of. Why start now?"
"My cousin has a daughter whose son works in the kitchens. According to what he overheard from the soldiers, the queen has seemed mighty cozy with the dragon rider."
"Maybe he's cast a spell on her?"
"With all those magicians around?"
"I think this is all some sort of trick. No way the son of Morzan and Galbatorix's right-hand is up to any good."
"I hope he burns."
"They said when he tortured people, he would laugh —"
Hal flinched when a hand slipped into hers, and she looked over as Giles gave her a sad smile and a reassuring squeeze. Hal quickly wiped her face before anyone got suspicious, grateful to Giles for pulling her mind away from the gossip. It was all she heard whenever she dared leave his home, so she soon stopped leaving at all. Murtagh certainly had a habit of being the talk of the town wherever he went. Besides, she still stood out too much, and she was too anxious and worried to bother herself with roaming the city when she was busy rehearsing with Giles what she would have to do and say to help Murtagh earn his pardon.
The last month has been grueling. Especially with the lack of news from the castle. Despite repeated reminders from Giles that the process was not an instantaneous one, the complete silence was, admittedly, disheartening. Giles would return from his trips in the city, talking with those who would still associate with him, trading stories and rumors only to return empty-handed of anything useful. Everything had been speculation.
Until now.
Yesterday, it had been announced that today — any minute — a proclamation would come down from the queen regarding the hearing for Murtagh. Announcements for coming announcements. The strange audacity of it all. Giles said that it was likely Nasuada would intend to share who would be serving on his council, the date of the hearing, and the date for witnesses to step forward.
Hal swallowed the lump in her throat at the thought.
Suddenly, a small throng of soldiers appeared, coming down the stone path with void expressions. They were heavily armed and Hal felt an uncomfortable shiver run down her spine. Without thinking, she took a hesitant step back, feeling a flashing of heat at her back before having to remind herself that these were not the soldiers of Galbatorix. But aside from a few adjustments in uniform, the way they carried themselves was no different. And with Murtagh still locked up, she felt little inclination to trust them.
The crowd tensed, a heavy silence falling over everyone as the soldiers stood around the platform that was set up for the castle crier. The small man stepped up and forward, unrolling the scroll in his hands before clearing his throat to shout.
"From the queen, her majesty Nasuada, comes the following declaration regarding the arrival and prosecution of one Murtagh Morzanson, who stands accused of treason, torture, and murder —" Hal flinched at the words, her throat growing tight — "under the decree that declared all allies, supporters — willing and unwilling — of the former king, Galbatorix —" people around them hissed — "must undergo pardon within one year of his downfall by renouncing their crimes and allegiances, and swear fealty to the new queen."
The man sucked in more air, then pressed forward. "However, as it stands —" already, the crowd was growing restless and upset, but Hal felt her chest inflate with hope — "the queen has decided to move forward with the pardoning process, at which Murtagh Morzanson will be found either guilty or not guilty of the crimes for which he stands accused, by a special council hand-selected by the queen."
"That's good," Giles muttered under his breath so that only Hal could hear, which was not too much of a concern as the crowd erupted into displeased boos. "The queen is already showing she's on his side by moving towards a pardon. Good to know her years of pretty speeches on his behalf weren't just for show." It was quite obvious that they were the only ones encouraged by this, however. The other members of the audience had begun to heckle the crier, and Hal could see now why he was accompanied by soldiers.
"The following individuals have confirmed their attendance at the hearing as council members: Orik, King of the Dwarves; Arya Dröttning, Queen of the Elves; King Orrin of Surda; and Roran Garrowson, Earl of Palancar Valley."
More mutterings. Hal didn't know if that meant the members were good or bad. She recognized the name Arya — Invidia and Blödhgarm had mentioned her, and Hal was sure Murtagh had spoken of her as well. She looked to Giles, but his expression was focused on listening. She followed suit so that she didn't miss anything.
"The hearing will be held in a fortnight. Anyone who wishes to testify for or against Murtagh Morzanson must attend the Court of Requests in a week where they will have their minds searched to determine the validity and truth of their testimonies before they are allowed to proceed. This concludes the royal announcement from her majesty. All hail the queen!"
"All hail the queen!" The crowd repeated, but with much less enthusiasm.
When the crowd began to thin amidst hushed whispers, Hal spun around to Giles. "My mind has to be searched? And it won't even be a guarantee that I will be selected as a witness?" She had not anticipated having to cross that bridge until much later.
He shook his head, brows furrowed in thought. "That's a new one," he admitted to Hal. "It has to be because there are more people who dislike Murtagh than like him. If they didn't set certain restrictions, anyone could just come forward claiming he personally tortured them even if they were never even on a battlefield with him."
"Yes, but what would I have to reveal to prove that I'm a worthy witness? And what if, because I am seeking to support him, they decide to turn me away. They'd have no reason to trust me, and I have no one on the inside who could vouch for me except for the very man they don't trust."
Giles rubbed his temples. "Let's go back to my home so that we can talk in peace. I need time to think."
So did Hal. Because any elation she had started to feel at the start of the announcement was fading fast. She had seven days to figure out what she could do to make sure Murtagh and Thorn were pardoned. And if she failed, then they were truly on their own.
…
"Are you sure I look acceptable?" Hal asked Giles for perhaps the hundredth time since that morning.
"I am sure," he repeated, with so much patience Hal knew that he was aware of how terrified she was and didn't want to cause her further distress. Which she appreciated, because she felt like she was falling apart at the seams.
At the last moment, Giles had gone out and purchased her a dress that would match the attire of the women around her, since her outfits were all hunting-esque or were lighter (and showed more skin) than what was acceptable here, regardless of the seasons. Despite not having her measured, the fit was rather exact, although he'd had to shout through the door how the bloody hell Hal was supposed to put anything on. She was decidedly not a fan of the stockings, opting for the less-itchy legging Murtagh had bought her. But the dress itself was simple and pleasant, an unassuming off-white color. She had decided to forgo the corset after Giles explained what it was. She would be wearing her cloak anyway and she had no desire to learn how to put one on herself.
She had done her hair up, braiding the strands so that they were pressed against her head before tying the loose ends into a bun at the nape of her neck. She couldn't help but remember what Murtagh had said about her not having worn her hair up since Denu died, and she felt like a semblance of her old self again. To add to her relief, Giles even said she should be fine to wear her usual boots. Although they were more ragged than ever after her travels, and she dreaded the thought of them falling apart anytime soon.
They had arrived early to the Court of Requests, but they weren't the only ones waiting. A small crowd of people were gathered, although Giles had commented that he was confident some had come simply to be nosy. Hal hoped he was right, although it made her warier of what might happen with so many people watching.
They had been here for a few hours, waiting almost since before the sun had fully risen to make sure that they were one of the first in line. Heavens forbid there was some kind of cut-off once they reached capacity.
"All right, here we go," Giles said with a smooth exhale as a group of men stepped out from the door in the back of the room. Their robes were elegant, black and crimson, and matching. "Those are the judges," Giles explained to her in a low voice. There was a young woman with them, with dark hair and blue eyes. She was quite beautiful, actually, but she had an air of arrogance around her. She stood tall and straight, and Hal had a feeling this woman was important in some way, although she did not wear the robes of the judges.
"Quiet, quiet," one of the men called out, but the room had already fallen deathly silent when they had entered as everyone waited to hear what they would say. "We will now begin the proceedings to select key witnesses to testify for or against the accused, Murtagh Morzanson. In just a few moments, all of those who wish to testify for the accused will step forward, give their name, and then go back with Trianna, who will search their mind. They will then be asked a series of questions, after which it will be decided if they will proceed to the hearing. Those who wish to speak against the accused will follow the same process."
"Giles, I think I'm going to throw up," Hal said under her breath, her stomach having twisted awfully. She had not anticipated having to walk forward on her own. She assumed they would just call people forward as they stood in line, questioning them privately.
"I would not judge you if you did," he muttered, looking equally stunned and ill at the thought.
"Now then," the man continued, his eyes roaming over the crowd. "Will those wishing to testify on behalf of the accused please step forward."
No one moved. There was a low chuckle that moved through the crowd, people exchanging glances with one another. Hal got the joke. No expected anyone to step forward. And if anyone had been planning to, they certainly wouldn't want to now. Not when the exposure would come at such a cost.
Hal could not stop the tremor that moved from her hands to her feet, but she forced herself to take that small step forward. That slight movement was enough to bring a hush about the entire group. It took an act of the gods to keep her head held up. Not because she was ashamed. But because, for the first time in her life, she knew how Murtagh felt. She could feel every eye on her, stunned and confused at first, then moving to mistrust and dislike in a matter of moments. The assumptions they must be making about her — she wanted to tell them that they were wrong. She had never wanted to disappear so fast in her life. How Murtagh had moved through the courts and the Varden like this, she would never know. But her respect for him grew tenfold with each agonizing step.
Someone appeared beside her and she flinched, expecting the worst. When she turned, she saw Giles standing there, looking just as terrified. "No way in hell I'm making you take this walk alone," he said, his voice low so that only she could hear.
She could've kissed him.
The walk felt like the longest in her life. When they reached the judge, he glared at them both with disdain. "You wish to speak on behalf on Murtagh Morzanson?"
"Aye," Giles said, his voice loud and clear. Hal couldn't find her voice, but nodded quickly, ashamed by how frightened she felt.
"State your names."
"Giles Brighamson."
Silence, and both men stared at Hal as she tried to hide the quiver in her voice. "Halen Zarasdaughter," she said, trying to muster up more confidence.
Another man was scribbling their names down in an open book filled with blank pages. The judge in front of them sniffed, then said, "If you will, Trianna will question you separately. Follow her."
He didn't have to tell them twice. Hal and Giles scurried out through the same door the judges had entered, following after the dark-haired woman. The room was deathly silent as they left it, and Hal had the nauseating feeling that her name and face would not soon be forgotten.
…
They had Giles go into a room with Trianna first, and Hal had to sit and wait in the narrow hall outside. The soldiers on patrol kept shooting her suspicious glances, and Hal kept fidgeting, her leg shaking until she had to stand up and pace, her hands shaking instead. She couldn't grasp how long it was taking, but it felt like over an hour before Giles finally came out, looking rather relieved to be out and unsure of himself.
"Halen Zarasdaughter," the woman called out, and Giles could only give her an encouraging smile. "I'll wait here for you," he told her, which eased some of Hal's nerves.
The door was shut behind her, and Hal found herself standing in a rather small, unassuming room. If she had to guess, it wasn't used all that often. The few pieces of furniture left behind were stacked up (chairs, desks, a few simple tables) and covered in sheets. All that was out were two chairs, one of which was occupied by Trianna. She gestured for Hal to sit in the other, and she did.
"I'm going to start with a few questions first, since those will be quick and painless. Then I will search your mind. Do not try to hide anything from me, I will know and it will disqualify you. Do you understand?"
"I do."
"Good. Now, state your name for me again."
"Halen Zarasdaughter."
"And where are you from?"
Hal hesitated. "Why is that important?"
"Just answer the question or leave now."
Hal reared back like she had been slapped. Any other time, such a tone would have made her snap back a sharp retort. But instead, she felt herself begin to fold into herself. This was about Murtagh and Thorn, she quietly scolded herself.
She dug her nails into her thigh. "I was born on Uden but was raised later on Illium. Both in relatively small villages."
Trianna looked up in surprise. "I've never met anyone from the islands before."
"That is because we do not often leave. The weather is a lot nicer."
The woman didn't smile, and Hal felt hers fall from her face. She couldn't remember the last time she felt so self-conscious. But then again, she'd known the same faces for so long. When she arrived at the Tenari village, she didn't care that she was a stranger. She cared for very little during that time. Even her wariness around Murtagh was strengthened by the fact that she was not the outsider, he was. She had known nothing but Illium for thirteen years. She had never had to think of what others thought of her.
"And what is your relation to Murtagh Morzanson?"
Hal's face grew flushed. The original plan was for her to be his wife so that she seemed like a legitimate ally for the pardoning process. But she and Giles had discussed the likelihood of this question coming up, and she had the next best response ready to go.
"We are…engaged."
Trianna's head snapped up, her eyes wide. "Engaged…to be married?"
"Yes."
Trianna's quill flew across the page as she took her notes; Hal fidgeted uncomfortably in her chair. "How long have you two been engaged?"
"Not long, about two months."
"And were you aware of his criminal background when you accepted his proposal?"
"I was."
"And you chose not to report him."
It sounded less like a question and more of an accusation. "Yes," Hal said, sitting up a little straighter.
"Why is that?"
"Because I didn't want to."
"Are you aware that harboring a fugitive is punishable by up to thirty lashes unless you can prove that you were under duress."
Hal licked her lips, her mouth having gone dry. Giles had also warned her of this but hearing it out loud made it all the more frightening and real. The scars on her back ached. "I am. And I was not under duress, nor has Murtagh or Thorn ever given any indication that they meant me or my people harm."
"Then you trust them?"
"Undoubtedly."
Trianna seemed disbelieving but pressed forward all the same. "Tell me how you met. The last known sighting of Murtagh and Thorn was somewhere far north. How did you manage to meet if you are from the islands?"
"North?" Hal asked, her patience finally snapping. "You don't say. If only Murtagh and Thorn had some means of traveling long distances over a period of time." She shrugged. "Guess we'll never know."
Trianna pressed her lips together. "Just answer the question."
Hal folded her arms over her chest. "I found him. He and Thorn had been attacked by a Nïdhwal. I didn't realize who he was at the time —"
"You didn't recognize the most dangerous and well-known traitor still alive from Galbatorix's reign?"
"Five minutes ago you seemed surprised to hear that someone from Illium was here and yet you are surprised that I somehow didn't know what Murtagh Morzanson looked like at first glance? Are you that thick?"
"If you keep up the attitude, I will personally make sure you never step foot in that hearing. Am I clear?"
Hal clenched her jaw shut, kicking herself for her outburst. This woman was being intentionally rash in an attempt to make Hal appear stupid, and it was grating on Hal's nerves. But if she wanted to make sure Murtagh got his pardon, she would apparently have to be the bigger person. She hated being noble with people she disliked. And she disliked this woman immensely. So, Hal crossed her legs at the ankles and folded her hands gently in her lap, plastering on her most sarcastic smile that she saved for Tengene, and forced herself to breathe.
"I took him back to my village for healing. By the time we were able to identify him, it did not feel right to turn him away. He was gravely injured. And neither myself nor my people are the kind who let others die if we can help. We would not leave him to fend for himself."
"That was how long ago?"
"Almost a year."
"Then he decided to stay?"
"Not at first. But he and I grew…close. So yes." Hal blushed, embarrassed at having to change the story to make it sound as though he had initially stayed for her. But she knew she could not talk of Ra'zac and Shades. Not yet.
Hal was asked a few more questions about her time with Murtagh, nothing extraordinary from what she could gather. Finally, Trianna laid down her quill and said, "I'm going to search your mind now. If you attempt to keep me out or make any move to harm me, I have permission to use force. And I will not hesitate."
Hal tried not to show how uncomfortable she was with this — she didn't want to give Trianna the satisfaction. "Fine."
The woman rose to her feet and walked towards Hal, placing her palm on Hal's forehead. It was different from how Murtagh would hold her when he had taught her. His hands would cradle her cheeks, trying to appear as unassuming as possible since he knew how daunting Hal found the whole thing.
She closed her eyes, focusing her mind on the memories she had decided to let Trianna see. It was risky. However, after weeks of practicing with Murtagh, she was confident in her abilities to do so. She could feel the woman slip into her mind. It wasn't nearly as subtle as Murtagh, who could move so easily through her consciousness if he wanted, that it would have been frightening if Hal did not trust him so implicitly. But Trianna did not protest or seem suspicious as she passed through Hal's pre-selected thoughts. Hal carefully hid the exact location of the villages on Illium but allowed Trianna to see Murtagh's relationship with their people, and how he had become welcomed and accepted. She even allowed Trianna to see some of the quieter moments that Hal shared with Murtagh, stolen kisses and longing looks to serve as proof of their relationship. But Hal felt horrid sharing such private details.
It was long and daunting. Hal grew wary, not just because of the energy it took to maintain her control without alerting Trianna to it. There would be moments where Denu would appear, healthy and happy and alive. Hal's grief began to seep through her memories, darkening them. She had to force herself to ignore her emotions, lest Trianna become suspicious.
By the time it was all over, Hal was crying, and even Trianna looked a little winded. Hal had no idea how the woman planned on getting through those who would step forward wanting to protest Murtagh's pardon.
Trianna collapsed back in her seat, seemingly shaken. In fact, she looked almost ill. "Are you all right?" Hal asked.
She glanced at Hal with something like confusion, then seemed to clear her head. "I'm fine," she said sharply. "Just…go."
Hal hesitated, surprised by the sudden dismissal. "But…the hearing…"
"You will be allowed to speak. Just go!"
Hal jumped from her feet, stunned by the woman's raised voice. She quickly exited the room, glancing back only once to find Trianna fighting the urge to cry, her hand clutching her head as if in pain. Hal found Giles sitting, waiting for her on the bench. He jumped up when she came out, and Hal shut the door behind her.
"How did it go?" he asked nervously.
"Not here," Hal whispered, aware of the guards closely listening. "Let's leave before we are speared."
"Good idea."
They walked quickly out of the castle, but it seemed like word had already spread of their identities. It almost felt like every time they ran into someone, they received lingering looks of disgust, curled lips and scrunched noses. Only when they were a safe distance from the castle did Hal dare speak.
"If that's what Murtagh had to face every day of his life, I may have to take back my threat to murder him. I could never face such a mob, and certainly not for something like a pardon. I'd rather live out my days in isolation."
Giles nodded his head in agreement. "I don't know what maddening thought made you two go through with this asinine plan, but you better brace yourself, Hal. You are about to become the most hated woman in the city."
…
Despite his insistence to the contrary, Murtagh had to admit that he much preferred the spoiled toils of being confined to a proper room instead of a cell. Much like her father had done before her, Nasuada had put him up in a very simple bedroom, the only furniture being the narrow bed and a small dresser. He could pace the entirety of the room in fewer than twenty steps. The walls were bare, and the only source of light was what filtered in through the window. The moment the sun went down, there was little else for Murtagh to do but go to sleep, his mind moving at speeds much faster than they hours themselves that ticked past.
Overall, he didn't mind it all too much. The bed underneath him was softer than the stone of the cell. Nasuada must've come down hard because the soldiers left him alone. Although they found small ways to rebel, mainly by continuing to withhold meals or tampering with them enough to make them inedible. Murtagh didn't like biting his tongue, but he refused to be baited. Besides — despite all his frustrations, he knew that he could not blame them. Regardless of what Nasuada said, the fact of the matter was that he had very much been an enemy of the Varden. He would be more suspicious if they were placid.
One evening, he heard a knock on his door, which was already unusual. And he sat up in surprise when a soldier stepped forward to announce her majesty. Murtagh stood respectfully and bowed. Nasuada shot him a quick smile as the soldier retreated to give them privacy to talk.
"This feels oddly familiar," Nasuada commented lightly.
"Strangely so," Murtagh admitted, feeling unsettled at the thought. "I'd offer you a seat, but…"
"It was hardly be appropriate," she said with understanding. Murtagh stared in confusion before understanding struck him. He nodded silently, hoping the heat in his face didn't give him away. He had only meant that there was not a chair available. Nasuada was clearly thinking that the only place to sit was the bed, which he currently occupied. And he tried not to let an amused smile show at the thought of Hal, and how she would have sat on his bed regardless. She would not have even waited for an offer and she had hardly ever cared much for propriety. She had always indicated so naturally how comfortable she was around him. And he missed her so suddenly and fiercely that he nearly forgot to pay attention to Nasuada until she spoke.
"I don't mean to stay long anyway," she continued. "I just wanted to quickly update you on where we stand with your pardoning process."
His ears perked up with interest, and he sat up straighter. "Yes?"
"First and foremost, the four others I have selected to serve on your council have all confirmed their participation and should arrive in the next day or two. Just so you can prepare yourself, I have invited Orik, King of the Dwarves; Arya, Queen of the Elves; Orrin, King of Surda; and Roran Garrowson, Earl of Palancar Valley."
Murtagh felt the blood drain from his face and, for a moment, he couldn't respond. Not that anyone else would have made sense in terms of who Nasuada would have reached out to. These were her closet allies and leaders in the Varden. But that also meant they were Murtagh's greatest enemies. Dammit all, Orik wouldn't even be king if Murtagh hadn't…
He felt ill.
If Nasuada noticed his discomfort, she did not say. Instead, she carried on, likely pressed for time. Besides, it was not her duty to comfort him. He had done this to himself after all.
"If everyone arrives on time, your pardon will begin promptly in a week, maybe even sooner. In the meantime, due to the nature of your…transgressions, we are also in the process of wrapping up a search for character witnesses to speak for or against you during the upcoming hearings."
"Witnesses?" Murtagh repeated, confused. "I don't understand — is that standard?"
"It hasn't been for the previous pardons we have held, but we were also dealing with offenses that weighed differently. Unfortunately, your allegiance —"
"That is a strong word to use," Murtagh growled, his eyes darkening. While he knew to be wary, he was surprised that Nasuada would use such a term at all.
She nodded once. "You're right, I apologize." And, at least for the moment, she did seem sincere. But Murtagh was immediately on high alert once more. "Your ties with Galbatorix are more commonly known. There are already more eyes on these proceedings than any other I've had to date. I warned you that we would have to do things precisely to avoid unmitigated backlash. By offering people the opportunity to testify as witnesses, we are letting the citizens know that we are taking their concerns or support into consideration."
"But you and I both know that there will be nothing but a flood of nay-sayers who would rather see me hang. I wouldn't be surprised if some decided to lie about my crimes; people certainly never seemed to care what they said about me even when I was innocent of all but being Morzan's son. How is this possibly meant to help me?"
"We are taking steps to ensure that not just anyone comes forth. Everyone will have to have their mind search to confirm that what they say is true. We will limit the number of people who can speak. But it's the right thing to do, Murtagh. I cannot ignore my constituents just to appease one man."
"I'm not asking you to, but anyone could see that this will tip the scale unfavorably against me. It would be impossible for me to earn my pardon this way."
"How do you know people will not come forward in support of you?"
"The only person mad enough to do that is —" and he froze, and then he groaned loudly, his face falling into his hands. So much for keeping Hal uninvolved.
"Murtagh?"
He shook his head. "I'm begging you. Please, call off the witness testimonies."
"I can't —"
"How do you expect anyone to come forward in support of me when the whole city is watching? And if someone were to come forward, you are putting a target on their back. You must call this off."
"I can't do that."
He had to refrain from laughing with derision. "Dare I ask why not?"
"The testimonies were all heard this morning. I'm on my way now to meet with my spellcasters who interviewed everyone who came forward. I'm sorry, Murtagh. My hands are tied. But I think it's important that you begin to decide what it is you want to say to the council on your behalf, and not what the witnesses have to say. I can only do so much."
Murtagh's throat was tight as he muttered, "Yes, your majesty." He didn't look at Nasuada even though he could tell she was hesitating. Waiting. But when she realized that he was too angry to speak, she turned and walked away. When the door was closed and locked behind her once more, Murtagh put his chin in his hands, his chest tight. Hal would've stepped forward. He knew, without a doubt, that she had. He had many reasons for turning himself in. Protecting Hal and her identity had been the first. The irony of that unraveling to where he was now unable to shield her from the backlash of guilt by association was not lost on him.
…
Despite having read through the first couple of passages of Selena's diary, quite literally, weeks ago, Hal had seen nothing of significance to indicate the diary was still worth reading. There were passages reflecting on her early years with Morzan that Hal had read voraciously, but they bore no new or helpful information. But there was something painfully vulnerable in them. Selena's pining, adoration, and commitment to Morzan were so raw and real. And Hal thought of her own fears, of how far she might go or fall for Murtagh. But Hal had no worries as to whether or not Murtagh would ever manipulate her feelings for him for something dark or obscene. In that, Hal was miles more fortunate than Selena ever was.
She wasn't quite sure what it was about this particular rainy day that made her pull it out for the first time since leaving the estate. Admittedly, with Murtagh by her side, she had not dared risk it before. All this mess with his pardon had also distracted her. But Giles had snuck out to the town square to gauge citizen sentiments and hear the latest gossip, and Hal had nothing else to do while she occupied another's house for the time being. So, she had pulled out the diary as a means of distracting herself, but no longer expecting to find anything of value. It was truly just a diary, she had realized.
Hal flipped through a few sections at random until she stumbled upon the word 'baby' and paused with renewed interest. She had been wondering if Selena would mention Murtagh again. The sections about him were far and few, as if Selena herself could not even bear to think about them, let alone write them down. Curious, Hal allowed herself a peek at the writing on the page below, letting her eyes scan quickly over the words.
…I remember when the wet nurse told me that Murtagh walked for the first time. Walked! And I was so excited that I almost forgot that I was not there to see it. Morzan told me he needed me. Told me that, if I was diligent and finished what he asked of me, he would let me see my baby. Our son. Although, by this time, I was beginning to realize that Morzan had no interest in the child. But I ached for him. Every time my breasts leaked, I cried. I felt like nothing more than an empty vessel, denied the right to see my son. To hold him in my arms after carrying him for nine months. But I told myself things would get better if I remained loyal and focused.
Instead, things only got worse.
Hal vehemently closed the book again, her own chest aching. Selena's pain was visceral. Her love for Murtagh, even in such short sentences, was apparent. Hal felt Selena's loneliness, felt a mother's longing to see her child. Her firstborn.
So, what had changed?
Hal was not prepared to learn the answer to that question. But she was still curious. Opening the book again, she found another passage, and was relieved that there was no mention of children as it went on. Many sections, in fact, just detailed Selena's time with Morzan. The early years, the formative years, and the latter years, where everything had already been laid to waste. The woman's writing was as evocative and heartbreaking as ever. Selena's vulnerability and heartache was enough to keep Hal's mind off of her own troubles.
When Giles returned, she deftly closed the book and slipped it back in her bag before just as he entered the main living room. He saw her seated in the windowsill and said, "You're getting mighty cozy here, aren't you?"
"That's because you keep feeding me," she retorted, eyeing the wrapped dish in his hands.
"You strays are all the same." But his tone was somewhat teasing as he set the dish down on the dining room table. "Don't get too excited. Just a casserole from the nearby pub. But I've been going their long enough that the cook isn't so easily swayed by public opinion. Food's still edible as far as I'm concerned."
Hal was in no place to be picky since Giles seemed to rarely ever cook his own meals, preferring to utilize his local contact instead. And food was food. Hal turned away from the window, planting her feet on the cool hardwoods as she gripped the side of the sill. "Speaking of, any news?"
"Well, they aren't flashing our faces in the square, if that's what you wanted to hear. But…you do still stand out. Word is spreading faster than I would like."
Hal forced her nerves down, trying not to appear as frightened by this news as she felt. "Do you think anyone suspects we're here?"
"They shouldn't. Haven't told anyone where I live. We should be safe here still. The real risk will come when we make for the hearing. If we can get to the front gates with no issues, then we should be in the clear since the guards will be there from that point on."
Hal was not nearly as encouraged as Giles, but she was too grateful for his optimism and company to say otherwise. "I don't know what I would have done without you," she told him, feeling oddly sentimental. As thought this might be the last moment she'd see him.
"Don't start," he began, as if knowing exactly what she was thinking. "The fight is not over yet. We've just hit a few unexpected obstacles, that's all."
"I didn't say anything," she said innocently. "I was just showing my gratitude."
"Thank me when this is over and we win." He disappeared into the kitchen, returning with two plates, silverware, and a bottle of wine. "Come sit and eat. We have tomorrow to rest so we might as well get comfortable."