The next morning was a dull one, overcast with fog rolling through the city. Murtagh flexed his fingers in his gloves, grateful for their warmth as he strolled through the gardens. The air was crisp, and he wondered if it might properly snow soon.
As he reached the massive stone overhang, Thorn sensed his approach and flew down to meet him. To what do I owe this early morning surprise? teased Thorn as he touched down.
I just wanted to come see you. Do I need to have any sort of reason?
Of course not. I am content regardless.
You are like Hal in that regard: too easy to please.
Just be grateful that there are at least two beings who can tolerate your presence.
Murtagh threw his head back and laughed. "Fair enough, I am indeed grateful." He reached out and placed a hand on Thorn's warm hide, the feel of his scales familiar and comforting. Things are about to get very busy for us. What do you say to one last flight before we are shackled with more responsibility than we can stand?
We have not flown, just you and I, in some time. I think that sounds like a wonderful idea.
After Thorn was properly saddled, they flew south, away from the city. While they were technically free, Murtagh didn't think the idea of Thorn flying overhead would be exactly how the people of Ilirea wanted to wake up. Besides, this way, they weren't accosted by anyone. Murtagh would take whatever autonomy he could while time allowed.
Are you nervous about the banquet? asked Thorn when they had reached a decent enough altitude.
Terrified, Murtagh admitted, grateful he could say it at all. I feel like I'm being paraded about. Or worse, a pig led to slaughter. It's bound to be a disaster knowing every noble in the room will hate me.
There may still be some who are willing to give you a chance. And if not for you, then for Nasuada.
But that loyalty might be contingent on if they still seek favor with her. She risked such relationships with her nobility and her people for me. For us. I don't want that to have been in vain.
Thorn didn't immediately respond. Instead, he began a gentle descent towards the ground. The land seemed empty, nothing but open plains for miles. Rather confused by the sudden landing, Murtagh slid down off Thorn's back. The dragon turned to face him, red eyes piercing. Murtagh knew that look and braced himself to be lectured.
If I may channel my inner-Hal for a moment —
Oh, please, do. This ought to be good.
Ha. But if I may, I feel inclined to remind you that Nasuada is not the only one who has risked something in all of this. You and I risked our lives, as did Hal and Giles. Even, those who served on the council, which includes Orik. I do not say this to add to your plate. But rather to shift your perspective. Rather than look at this as favors to be owed, think of it instead simply as people who are on our side. Even if it is begrudgingly, they have all openly taken a stance to declare themselves our allies. Which means they know that you are up to the task of making their declarations worth it.
What are you saying?
I'm saying that I don't want you to see every action and step you take as a means of owing others or righting wrongs. Those things are important, yes. But so is simply doing the right thing. Think of it as we did when we first went to Illium. We did not do it because we owed Eragon, nor did he force us to. He asked us for help, and we accepted it. There was nothing in it for us beyond simply aiding Eragon. And you joined Hal because you wanted to help her —
I did technically owe her for saving my life.
But that thought didn't even cross your mind when you told her we would stay with her. You didn't feel comfortable sending her off on her own and you also knew she may also be able to help us. You had no ulterior motives to speak of. And sometimes, all you can do is let others know that you genuinely care. How they respond to that is up to them.
I know you, Thorn continued. If you truly did not believe in the outcome of this fealty, you would not declare yourself to Nasuada. But you want to make a difference. Illium has taught you the joy of being in service to others. Of being seen as your own man. You do not have to diminish those feelings. Not everything has to be about someone else.
I'm afraid I would be selfish otherwise, Murtagh admitted. I'm so afraid that something I'll say or do will be misconstrued or seen as who I was before. I hate that I feel this way…but I'm tired of being feared and scorned. I hate the way people look at us — you especially. And I'm afraid that I will know nothing but disdain the rest of my life. I do not want my father's legacy. But I'm fumbling to make space for my own.
That is because you are impatient. Just look at what you've already accomplished on your own. You've earned the adoration of the Tenari, the love of Halen, and your pardon — and that was just in a year. All were choices you made on your own. You are capable of greatness, but it will not happen overnight.
No, it will not. Sadly, a reputation built over years of hard work can easily be destroyed in a single night. So a reputation destroyed again and again over countless years —
Can still be salvaged. But you must be willing to see it through, no matter how long it takes. Yes, you will have to take the good with the bad. Not even Nasuada is probably liked by every member of her nobility or her constituents, but she does what she must for the good of them all regardless. Most importantly, she does not do any of it alone.
Murtagh grinned. You've got me there.
It's natural to be nervous. But you and I know how these things go. The night will be over before you know it. And when the sun rises in the morning, it'll shine bright on a new day filled with new opportunities. All we can do is take things one day at a time. But we've made it this far when we thought it all was impossible. I'm not willing to give up just yet.
Nor am I. Thank you for speaking sense. Some feelings are harder to untangle on my own than I care to admit.
Then stop trying to do it alone, Thorn chastised, jabbing his tail into Murtagh's stomach.
I know, I know.
Murtagh fell silent, a faint smile on his face. Thorn's words had certainly given him a new perspective to think about. At the end of the day, Murtagh relied on what he could see with his own eyes, not mere speculation and guesswork. He would know nothing for sure until the night of the banquet, and all subsequent banquets after that. But Thorn was right: it would not do to diminish their efforts to what they owed to others. That would tire him out, make his commitments seem superfluous and shallow. This fealty was more than just something he was doing out of duty to the crown. He was earning back his name, earning his right to be a dragon rider, and, most importantly, setting the foundation for his future with Hal. And he could not pretend these things were less important simply because he feared what others might think.
There we go, Thorn teased. Now you're getting the hang of it.
Cheeky dragon.
His mood was considerably lifted as they sat by the river's edge. Murtagh longed for the island warmth, the early morning sunrise that he had seen with Hal. When they made it back home — and he knew in his heart they would return — one of the first things he wanted to do was see that sunrise again with Hal. What a turning point that moment had been for him. He wished he could return to the different iterations of his past self he'd been thinking of the last few months — the scared boy, the defiant and sardonic teen, the angry sheep, and the empty vessel — and tell them that their pain would not have been in vain. But since he couldn't, he would simply have to make a stand here.
I smell horses nearby, Thorn stated, looking back behind them. I think they're getting closer.
Well, we're not doing anything wrong. And technically I've earned my pardon, so it's not as if we're no longer allowed to leave the castle.
That's true — old habits, I suppose.
Once they recognize us, I'm sure they'll depart swiftly. Let's just wait for them to pass so as not to startle them. We can head back once their gone.
It wasn't long before Murtagh himself heard the horses approach, and something about the growing sound put him on edge. By now they should have spotted Thorn easily, as there were no large hills for miles to confuse him with. If they were still coming towards them, it was with intention. Could it be someone from the castle looking for him?
They're armed, Thorn said, turning around to face them. And they do not wear the crest of the crown. He bared his teeth, crouching low and bringing his tail up as though to strike. Then he opened his mouth and released a roar loud enough to halt those approaching with swiftness. Murtagh could sense their immediate unease, but it wasn't enough to scare them away completely.
He stepped forward, choosing to keep Zar'roc sheathed. Thorn had stopped them far enough away that he would have plenty of time to reach for his weapon if needed, but he hoped it wouldn't get to that point. He hoped that perhaps they had a good explanation for why they were here.
"That's close enough!" he called out to the group. There were perhaps seven or so in all. He could see no discernable features from such a distance, but he knew Thorn could see further, taking in much more detail.
"At ease, Shur'tugal," someone called out. It had to be the man front and center of the group, for he stepped forward, his hands raised to show that, while his companions brandished swords, daggers, and arrows, he himself was unarmed. A small, almost laughable gesture. "We only wish to talk."
"And who is 'we'? Should I know who you are?"
"Perhaps not personally, but I'm sure you've heard of us: we are members of the Black Hand."
Thorn hissed in distaste, and it was reason enough for Murtagh to pull out his sword. So much for his wish for non-violence. As if he'd ever be so fortunate.
"We do not wish to hurt you —"
He sneered. "I highly doubt you could. Now turn around and walk away."
"Not until you hear what we have to say." Persistent little bastard. Murtagh considered what spells he could use to frighten them off when the man added, "It's useless to call on your magic. We will know."
Figures. They weren't amateurs after all.
Not to mention we are outnumbered, Thorn snapped, his own frustration growing. And we are too far to reach out to anyone for help.
"Very good. Now then…" The man walked closer, stopping only when he was just a few feet away. He was certainly bold. Murtagh could make out dark, almost black hair with bits of grey along the sides. His skin was deeply tanned, an odd sight this far into winter. They were either close to the desert or somewhere further south, like Surda or the islands. He tucked that detail away for later. The man stood tall and confidently, perhaps in his forties or fifties. But there was something about his demeanor that made Murtagh wary. It would be unwise to underestimate anyone in this group.
"See, this isn't so bad."
"I can go ahead and tell you right now that I have no intentions of joining you. If you're under some delusion that my forced servitude of Galbatorix means I will betray the crown now —"
"No, no, no," the man said with a quick shake of his head. "Nothing like that. You did turn yourself in after all. You've gone through enough lengths to show where your loyalties lie."
"Then why are you here?"
"Because we believe you can be…useful still. With the right incentive, of course."
Murtagh clenched his jaw tight. Something about the man's confidence in saying that made him paranoid. "How so?"
Murtagh, I can't be certain, but I think they've been watching us, said Thorn, his tone taking on a panicked edge. They did not find us out here on accident. They must've realized this was their best opportunity.
Galbatorix did not hand-pick and train them because they were amateurs. Stay sharp. I have a feeling this will get ugly.
No, you don't understand. If they've been watching you, then that means they know about Halen.
Murtagh's mind suddenly became empty, horrified to realize that Thorn's conclusion made sense. He must've made a face because the man's smile became sinister, as if he knew exactly what Murtagh had realized. "There you go. It looks like you'll listen to us after all."
He didn't have anything to say; he was too busy trying to think. It would be impossible to get word to Hal or anyone else who might be able to protect her from this distance. She could defend herself, but a surprise attack could still be fatal.
Keep them talking. Perhaps there is a way out of this if we give ourselves time to think.
Murtagh was less hopeful, but Thorn's idea was better than nothing. Trying to put as much menace in his voice as possible, he asked, "What do you want?"
The man didn't seem at all fazed, just impressed. As if he wanted to see the hostility in Murtagh's face. "As expected from the son of both a Forsworn and our namesake."
That backhanded "compliment," intentional or not, made Murtagh's skin crawl with disgust and rage.
"However," the man continued, his expression and tone darkening, "I should let you know that we are well aware that we could tell you everything and you could merely kill us anyway. Or leave and tell your new liege about what transpired here. Neither option sits well with us."
"I imagine you're going to tell me what it is you prefer I do."
The man smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "All we want is information."
"I hate to be the one to tell you, but I've been away for six years. I've got nothing for —" And then, as he was speaking, the man's intentions became clear. It wasn't about what he knew now, but what he could find out later. "You want me to spy."
"No one gets hurt —"
"Until you decide what to do with whatever details I were to give you. I haven't even been officially sworn in yet and you're already asking me to betray my country."
"The country that hurled rocks and fruit at you? The country that attacked Miss Halen with little concern for her safety —?"
Hearing him say her name as casually, and as comfortably, as he did, sent Murtagh in a tailspin. Without thinking, he rushed the man and yanked on his collar in one hand, lifting him into the air enough that the man was balancing on his toes. Zar'roc dangled at Murtagh's side, his fingers twitching, the metal screaming at him for blood.
Murtagh!
Thorn's voice quickly broke through the fog in his mind. Angry that his emotions had taken over that quickly, he shot the man a warning look and released him. But he knew he had made a mistake, one that could prove deadly. If they were watching Hal, he had all but confirmed that she was the chink in his otherwise impenetrable armor.
The man straightened his tunic and continued as if nothing had happened. "This country has turned its back on you. You owe them nothing. And we can assure you that nothing would ever be traced back to you."
"You expect me to believe that you would never use this to blackmail me into going further than initially agreed upon?" he muttered with a roll of his eyes. "Once I agree I am condemned."
"We are not trying to trap you. We are trying to set you free, along with the rest of the magic users in this country."
"My answer is no."
His eyes flashed dangerously, but he quickly composed himself. "If there is something you'd want in return, we would be happy to hear your conditions."
"My one and only condition is that you and your band of merry magicians turn around and leave me alone. I have no intention of helping you, willingly or otherwise."
"Are you sure about that?"
Brace yourself, Thorn. But if you can, don't kill him. I can take him back to the city as evidence that the Black Hand is still active.
Be quick then. Don't forget they will know when you call on your magic.
The reminder made him grimace, but it could be fatal to forget otherwise. "You've wasted your efforts revealing yourself. I may not yet have this country's trust, but I do plan on earning it. My answer remains the same: I will not do as you ask."
"A pity, and a shame. But perhaps this might change your mind."
A few seconds passed before Murtagh felt a tugging sensation, as if fingers had gripped his tunic to try and get his attention. He knew this feeling well — Hal's wards were going off. Thorn's theory had been correct after all. But how had the man managed to alert those in his party? He had given no signal or sign that Murtagh had seen. It couldn't be a bluff, and he needed to figure out how to get free so that he could get to Hal. He needed to stall for more time. Maybe trick them into thinking he would consider it without making any promises. But if they were actually hurting her…
"Wait —" he began.
But he never got a chance to finish. Just then, one of the magicians back with the rest of the group cried out in surprise, dropping to the ground like stone. The man turned, and Murtagh reacted instantly by shouting, "Slytha!" Just as quickly as his eyes rolled into the back of his head, Murtagh threw up a shield just in case one of the other magicians tried to retaliate or attack. He knew they were quick to take their own life or the life of their companions if it meant keeping their secrets.
It's Arya! Thorn explained, able to better witness the fighting from his perspective.
Murtagh rushed forward and dropped to his knees. He opened the man's mouth and stuck his fingers in, digging near the back molars until he found what he was looking for. He carefully extracted the tiny vile of poison stuck to the man's teeth, relieved it wasn't adhered using magic. He tossed it into the river.
Once that was done, Murtagh jumped to his feet. Don't let anyone come near him. I'll go help Arya.
Be careful!
Brandishing Zar'roc, Murtagh ran towards a fight that looked like it was already nearing a swift end. Arya — holding off two magicians at once — hadn't come alone. There were two…no, three others with her. Two men, and a dark-haired woman he vaguely recalled healing his broken nose.
Assuming the goal was to only use extreme measures if needed, Murtagh rotated his sword and brought the handle down on the back of the head of one of the magicians. Arya quickly dispersed of the other and shot him a grateful nod. "Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine. But I can't stay —"
"Letta!"
She was looking over his shoulder and he turned to see one of the other members of the Black Hand frozen in place. Their eyes were wide with fright just before Murtagh knocked them out cold. There was no more movement, but he realized only five lay unconscious or dead, including their supposed leader.
"Two escaped on horseback," Arya explained, noticing his wandering gaze. "But two other members of Du Vrangr Gata are in pursuit. I just hope they are strong enough to prevail."
"You did not go with them?"
She tilted her head, as though surprised he would even suggest such a thing. "You are our priority. We were told to make sure you came back alive."
"And even though it may not seem like it at the moment, I'm grateful that you arrived when you did. But I have to hurry back to the castle and make sure Hal's okay. One of the members is down by the river. Can you take him back for me?"
Arya's expression changed at the urgency in his tone. "Yes. Just be careful, we don't know if there are more of them nearby and you and I are both exposed."
Murtagh nodded, understanding her need for caution considering they had managed to catch him unaware. In the skies once again, Murtagh swore violently and said, Dammit. I should've seen this happening.
How? With your ability of foresight?
Don't be smart, Thorn. You know what I meant.
No, I don't think I do. How on earth should you have presumed that a covert group that focuses on espionage and assassination would attempt to contact you and blackmail you into becoming a traitor?
Maybe not all of those details exact. But tensions were high already between me and those I once fought against. I should have anticipated that those who served Galbatorix would also react to my return. And now I've put Hal in danger —
She is a strong fighter. She will prevail.
I know she is, but that's not my only concern. If she's up against magicians…
Thorn was quiet, realization dawning on him. Hal would know better than to try and fight magic with a sword. But Murtagh had also given her explicit instructions not to reveal her magic. Not only would it risk exposing her to Nasuada, but if it were true that Thea could sense Hal's magic, they would be calling the Shade right to them.
Dammit all!
It was at least another ten minutes or so before they arrived back in Illirea, Thorn landing right in the center of the castle courtyard to the surprise of everyone walking through it. Murtagh dropped down, ignoring the shouts of surprise and fright at his and Thorn's rather abrupt entrance.
Her shields are up, said Thorn. I can't ask or tell where she is.
The situation was growing steadily out of hand. But if her shields were up, she was alive. Taking off at full speed, Murtagh ran through the halls screaming Hal's name. Everyone jumped out of his way, clearly thinking he had fallen mad. He started first with her room, but when he burst through the doors, he could see that it was untouched. The handmaidens had likely already straightened up, meaning the attack hadn't happened here.
He didn't have time to search the full grounds. Think, Murtagh. Think —
"Murtagh!" He looked over his shoulder to see Roran jogging towards him. But the man stopped and waved Murtagh towards him. "Hal said you might be looking for her. We've gathered in her majesty's office."
Rushing towards the man, Murtagh asked, "Hal's all right then? Is she hurt? Her wards went off."
"She was attacked, but I don't quite have all the details. She's a bit shaken and one of the healers is looking over her now; she was conscious and talking when I left. At most, she might be a bit bruised."
"What the hell is going on? I was approached by the Black Hand — they said they had spies in the castle."
Roran's mouth pressed into a thin line. "I wish I knew more, but I haven't been told anything. Hopefully they'll explain once everyone is together. Did Arya return with you?"
"No, she let me come ahead. But she should be on her way. We managed to subdue a few members of the Black Hand for questioning."
Roran nodded but said nothing further. Murtagh could tell by the route they took that whatever study Roran was taking him to was not the same one as before. Sure enough, when they arrived, Murtagh could see that this one was a little bigger and much more formal. There was a table in the center of the room, big enough for about ten people, the head reserved for Nasuada, who sat in it now. Flanking her left and right sides were two men Murtagh had yet to meet.
"Rider?"
One word brought his attention sharply to his left. Hal sat on a bench against the wall, a blanket over her shoulder. His eyes took her own slowly, scanning for injuries and finding none that he could see outright. His gaze stopped on her hands, shaking in her lap and covered in a thin layer of blood.
"It's not mine," she said, her voice soft, following his gaze. But the room was so quiet that her whisper carried. He moved towards her, kneeling down at her feet. Uncaring, he took her hands up in his. She smiled down at him, just reaching her eyes enough to assure him. "I'm okay. I promise. Just a bit banged up and a bit more in shock."
He nodded, knowing this. Still, he needed to lower his head to catch his breath.
"I'm all right too, iet dunei," Hal said mockingly, and he looked up, shocked to hear the teasing in her voice. She gave him an expectant look and he shook his head at her, chuckling.
"I'm all right too, iet dunei. So is Thorn. I promise."
Her lip quivered, and he could see her eyes briefly fill with tears. She sniffed, quickly blinking them away before clearing her throat. "I know that. I just need to hear you say it." As an afterthought, she then added, "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you. I could feel Thorn reaching out, but considering the circumstances, I thought it best to keep my shields up. Nasuada has her guards preparing to secure the castle, so until we know for sure that there are no other assailants lurking about…"
"You absolutely did the right thing. Never lower your defenses, not even for myself or Thorn, until you know without a doubt that it's safe." She took a deep, steadying breath and nodded. "Roran said a healer was looking you over. What did they say?"
"Just some bruises. I'm fine."
"We should at least let you get washed up."
"I'll bathe and change after the debriefing. I don't have all the details, but I want to know what's going on. Nasuada already gave me permission to stay."
It took Murtagh a moment to realize that that was his obligation as well. For the first time, he was realizing that he would have to put caring for Hal second. Although, getting information about how a group of traitors managed to get into the castle and stalk her was just as important. Still, it was a stark difference to what he had grown accustomed to, and something about it didn't feel wholly right.
"Can you walk to the table?" he asked.
"Aye. I've just been catching my breath."
Keeping the blanket wrapped around her shoulders, Hal stood slowly, grimacing with too much discomfort for Murtagh to believe she was merely bruised. But he could see the stubborn set of her jaw and decided not to push her. He knew she was acutely aware of who all was currently in the room and didn't want to undermine her choices.
They took their seats near the end of the table, leaving the spots in the middle open. The room remained quiet for a while until the doors burst open once more. This time it was Orrin who strolled in. Orik was behind him, as were Arya and the dark-haired woman from before. Hal was tense, glancing briefly at Orrin who also looked her way. He gave her a subdued nod that made Murtagh's brows go up. What exactly had happened?
"Is Baldor okay?" Roran asked, looking at Orrin.
"He's fine. Sleeping in the infirmary now. I had the healer contact his brother like you asked."
Roran breathed. "Thank you for taking care of him."
"I think that's everyone, your majesty," said the auburn-haired man beside her.
She nodded, glancing around at everyone at the table. "As I'm sure you have all surmised by now, we have found credible proof that the Black Hand is still highly operational. Not only that, but they have managed to infiltrate the castle with — yes, Halen?"
Heads swiveled over to Hal, who was lowering her hand. "I apologize, your majesty, for being…unaware. But who or what is the Black Hand?"
"Yes, of course. No apology necessary. The Black Hand is a group of magicians and assassins, once handpicked and trained by Galbatorix himself. They are highly dangerous individuals who have been a pain to us since before the war ended. They had been quiet for some time, but there have been subtle signs for the past year or so that they were active."
Nasuada nodded to Orrin who cleared his throat. "I had no credible proof, but there were rumors beginning to circulate in Aberon of embittered magicians — who were dissatisfied with the law of registering magic users that we implemented after the war ended — being recruited by the Black Hand. At first, we had no hard evidence and no real reason to investigate. But when the rumors persisted, I had some of my most trusted magicians look into it."
"What happened?" asked Murtagh.
Orrin's face darkened. "As soon as they turn up, I'll let you know."
Hal shivered beside him.
"This was about a year ago," Nasuada repeated. "Since then, we've been on the lookout, but they've managed to avoid detection. To be expected — we were only ever aware of them when they attempted to kill me or another leader. They disappear just as quickly as they reappear, and the few we've managed to capture are resistant to…persuasion."
Now Hal just looked ill. She glanced over at him and said, "Teirm."
He frowned, confused. But as he recalled their less-than-pleasant experience, his eyes widened when he realized what she was referring to. "We also heard there have been a series of small uprisings believed to be the work of more angry magic users. Are they connected to the Black Hand somehow? When I was accosted earlier, they even mentioned something about setting magic users 'free.'"
"Ah, yes. We can't say for certain, but it is possible. The Black Hand could just be taking advantage of the chaos these small-scale riots have caused. They are hardly ever so flashy. Or perhaps they have simply co-opted the messaging to get magic users on their side. It's hard to say for sure where their ultimate motivation is. But Jörmundur — oh, I haven't introduced you yet. Murtagh, Halen, I would like for you to meet the two heads of my military. Jörmundur is my second-in-command, overseeing the entire military fleet, excluding officers and soldiers in Teirm and Surda, who are independent."
The old man nodded his head in their direction but said nothing.
"And this is Aharon, the captain of the Queen's Army, meaning he oversees all of the officers and soldiers here in Ilirea."
The man was equally business-like, acknowledging them only the curtest of nods. But Murtagh noticed that he did not once look their way.
"As I was saying before: for the past few months, Jörmundur has been away quelling these riots and helping set-up inquiries in each city as to who might be involved and why. But they have, so far, managed to allude us, which is why we know so little. Trianna," Nasuada then gestured to the dark-haired woman Murtagh had recognized earlier, "has been assisting as the head of Du Vrangr Gata — which is our counter group of magicians, but without the assassination — in these investigations. But the issue is that many of our members act more as healers, not users trained for combat. And we cannot risk sending too many out. Especially considering what happened to Orrin's."
"It is a very fine line to walk," Jörmundur added, his sigh troubled.
"Okay," Murtagh said, able to follow everything so far. "So, what happened today?"
"You were approached by the Black Hand, correct?" asked Jörmundur.
"Aye. At least they were claiming to be the Black Hand. They weren't explicit in their threats, but they insinuated that Hal would be harmed and expected me to turn spy. They didn't give me much of a choice." Perhaps it was the fact that he had followed the threat against Hal's life with the fact that it wasn't enough to make him turn traitor. Or maybe he was just paranoid of his past experiences, especially considering he had turned for Thorn's sake. Either way, the silence that followed felt judgmental and loud because he quickly added, "But, I told them no."
His cheeks were hot, and he hated that he felt like he needed to explain himself. However, Hal swooped in and added, "It was a near-impossible choice, rider. Your options were either deny them and risk my safety as a result; or, give them what they wanted and guarantee that I would leave you should I ever find out." She glanced over at him out of the corner of his eyes. "You know you made the right call, Murtagh. And so does everyone else here."
Self-conscious, he dared to glance up at Nasuada, who was trying to hide her smile. Then he looked over at Arya who nodded assuredly. Still a bit embarrassed, but eager to move-on, Murtagh continued as if nothing had happened. "Like I said, they tried to trick me with an ultimatum. But I still don't understand why now."
"They must've seen this as an opportunity and decided to take it," said Orik, speaking up. "You and Hal were apart, I'm sure they would have expected you to be desperate."
"I agree. Not to mention it would've been impossible to know when they could next get you alone," added Arya. "They've had no discernable opportunity to talk to you because you've been in the castle since you arrived. You and Thorn going off today was pure chance, but they responded quickly, which is enough to show that they've been watching closely for such a moment."
"And the bastard or bastards who attacked Hal?" Murtagh asked.
"Spies disguised as soldiers," Hal explained. "Or actual soldiers. We don't know for certain yet."
Murtagh must've made a face because Nasuada sighed and said, "That's why I've called Aharon here. The previous circumstances of misconduct by my men, while reprehensible, seemed to merely fall into sudden disgruntled behavior in response to your arrival. However, this new information now puts us in two very difficult positions: either the Black Hand managed to infiltrate my command early and have been lying in wait for any opportunity they could use to their advantage; or, they did it within the last few weeks, capitalizing on the tension ultimately caused by your presence. And I'm not saying this is your fault," she added quickly, as though fearing an outburst. "Rather, I think they are using you as a scapegoat to put certain plans into action. If you were to be caught in an unsavory position, their hope would be that your past condemned you, regardless of guilt. However, we won't know for certain until we conduct an investigation."
"In a twisted sort of way, your arrival did us a favor," said Orrin with a tired sigh. "They might not have ever risked revealing themselves otherwise."
Something about his words didn't sit right with Murtagh, and he turned them over in his head until he realized the one question he'd almost forgotten about. "How did Arya know I was in trouble? She arrived at the perfect time to keep me and Thorn from taking on seven well-trained magicians." He leaned forward, his tone gaining an edge. "Did you know that Hal and I were being followed? Or that we were in some sort of danger?"
The room was silent, no one jumping at the chance to answer him. To his surprise, it was Hal who spoke first. "Trianna, you knew something, didn't you?" The woman looked up, eyes narrowing. "You were leaving Nasuada's privy chambers just before I met with her the other day. I imagine you had something important to tell her seeing as how I was told that Nasuada rarely conducts business out of there. And then later, you were talking privately with Orrin too."
"So? In my position as head of Du Vrangr Gata, I'm allowed to talk to leadership. And you have no authority here to demand any answers from me."
"Trianna —" began Orrin.
"I'm well aware that I'm here as a citizen," Hal snapped, speaking at the same time, "but as far as I'm concerned, I was just assaulted by soldiers who are under the queen's command. Spy or not, you are in no position to climb up on any sort of high horse and tell me I don't have a right to know why. You will not treat my life like it is expendable. But I'll have you know that I handled them both on my own, and as you can see, I am very — much — alive. So, by all means, test me if you wish."
Murtagh felt his own eyes widen. It was obvious by the way the temperature dropped in the room that no one had at all been prepared for such a retort. Especially not Trianna herself, whose cheeks flushed an indignant red.
"Trianna." Nasuada's tone was cool and collected, but there was an edge in the unspoken command that left no room for argument.
Seeming like she'd rather pull her own fingernails out, Trianna looked everywhere but at Hal and said, "From the moment Morzansson turned himself in, we've been keeping all ears to the ground. We assumed that, at some point, there would be an attempt on his life. Even the queen's for pursuing the pardon. We've been increasing security as a result. But when you and Mr. Brighamson stepped forward as witnesses…the conversation changed. Drastically.
"No one was expecting Morzansson to have anyone on his side. I'm sure you could tell by the way we structured the call for witnesses that we hadn't considered it either. You were around his age, beautiful…everyone came to the same assumption about your connection to him. But that assumption might as well have become fact when Thorn came to your aid during the riot at the gates. It was all anyone could talk about: the seemingly allusive and private Morzansson had someone that he cared about. It's why her majesty had you remain here."
"But what does that have to do with how you knew we were both in danger today?" Murtagh repeated. "Or am I to believe that it was merely a coincidence?"
Here, Nasuada jumped in. "It was partially a coincidence, I admit. Hal, you were right. Trianna did come and see me, mainly to express her concern about security surrounding Murtagh's banquet coming up because we assumed that's when he'd be the most exposed to threats. We speculated that the Black Hand might be the most likely to make a move because of their ties to Galbatorix and all the recent activity we suspected they were behind. We thought we had time to notify him and you before then. However, when Murtagh and Thorn were spotted leaving…" Nasuada straightened in her seat. "We made a split-second decision that, if anything was going to happen, it might be then."
"Why?" Murtagh asked defensively, still not quite convinced. "Because you were banking on me turning."
"No, Murtagh —"
"Then why not tell me before now that you were this concerned for my and Hal's safety?" he challenged. No one met his gaze, the room silent with his accusation.
"Because you wanted to draw them out, didn't you?" said Roran, his voice low with understanding. But his gaze was almost disappointed, surprised even. "If you had told Murtagh that leaving Hal's side was the most opportune chance for the Black Hand to expose themselves, you knew he'd never agree. You may not have known they'd strike this soon and so boldly, but you were expecting something. When you heard that Murtagh and Thorn were off, you scrambled to send Arya after him and Orrin after Hal. Now you have three, maybe four, of their members currently in holding and waiting to be interrogated. You got exactly what you wanted."
Nasuada seemed to swell with indignation. "Our motives were not that sinister as you make them out to be. I had every intention of informing Murtagh of the Black Hand's activity."
"But would you have told me that they might try to use Hal against me?" he asked. Nasuada just looked at him, her eyes silently pleading for him to understand. And he could. He could absolutely understand the position she was in and the opportunity presented. He couldn't say he knew of an alternative plan or strategy they could've used instead. But instead of feeling angry, he just felt calm. Because now that they had laid their priorities bare, his head felt clear. "You know what, this conversation can be continued at a later date," he said. "It's already been a long morning and I need to tend to Hal right now. If you'll excuse us…"
He rose to his feet, gently guiding Hal to hers as well. She still winced, swallowing the cry of pain that was written across her face. When they reached the door, he had one final thought and turned to face the group. "And please, know this: if I am ever asked again to choose between my loyalty to the crown or my loyalty to Halen, I will choose her. Every. Single. Time."
…
Murtagh ran his fingers gently over Hal's side, pressing gently. Her yelp of pain riddled him with guilt, and he shot her an apologetic look. "They don't appear broken, but their heavily bruised. Maybe even cracked." He sat back. "I know you wanted information, but we really should have healed you first."
"I could handle it. Besides, I knew you would fret over me otherwise and you needed to focus on the matter at hand."
He pouted playfully, and it had the desired effect of causing her to smile. But it was short-lived for them both. When he had finished examining her for injuries, he used magic to heal even the minor scrapes and bruises. Hal was carefully washing the blood off her hands into the basin of warm water Murtagh had filled for her. The rag in her hand was stained a faint pink from multiple rinses. Murtagh watched as she carefully dug the fibers under her nails and around her cuticles, her face becoming expressionless the longer she stared at her hands.
"Here, let me."
He took the rag from her, taking one hand in his and continuing what she had started. "It wasn't like in Teirm," she began, her voice quivering with emotion. He didn't stop or look up, but she knew well enough that he was listening and continued. "In Teirm, it felt like it often does when I had sparring sessions with you or Invidia. Where my mind could preemptively think of what I should do and how I should move. This was different. This was pure survival and adrenaline. My body moved on its own. The last time I felt that way was when the Ra'zac attacked the Tenari. I don't even really remember what happened, my mind was so blank. It was all I could do to just keep fighting."
Murtagh sighed, glancing up at her. "It must've been really scary."
She nodded slowly, her face twisting in a manner that absolutely broke his heart. "It was," she said, her voice breaking before she burst into tears. Murtagh set the rag and water bowl down before moving to sit beside her on the trunk. He pulled her into him where she buried her face in his chest. Her fingers clutched desperately at his tunic as she sobbed hard and loud.
It was a while before she quieted down, struggling to catch her breath and calm down. He raised her gaze to his, breathing slow and deep so that she could match his rhythm. When she had finally seemed more controlled, she shook her head. "And the worst part? I couldn't even kill them. At one point, I had the chance to. But I hesitated and because of that, they almost got the upper hand. If that soldier hadn't arrived when he did —"
"Orrin?"
Hal shook her head. "No, he came not long after though. I think Roran might have said his name but I can't remember it. But I think he heard the commotion and came to intervene. I don't know why, but I couldn't do it myself. I saw that soldier from thirteen years ago and I just…panicked that if I killed these men there would be repercussions just like that night. I feel like such a cowa —"
"No. No. You are no coward, Hal. Being able to take a life doesn't make you strong. But more importantly, you aren't a killer." Murtagh took her hands off his chest and held them up. "These hands, your hands, are one of the earliest memories I have of you. I still recall thinking how strong and capable they seemed as they worked to heal me and save my life. These are not the hands of a killer."
"But —"
He shook his head. "You fought and you won. That by itself is the most important thing. Do not force yourself to feel like there's a right or wrong way to do what you need to do to survive. Hal I'm just so relieved you're alive. I was so scared; all I could think about was how to get back to you as quickly as possible. The only thing that gave me hope was that I knew how strong you were."
She gave him a grateful smile. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead before wrapping her in an even tighter hug. She held on to him with the same conviction, and they sat like that until they both had properly calmed down. Murtagh kissed her temple and said, "I'll run you a bath. Your muscles are still really tense, it may help you relax a bit more."
She nodded, looking like she'd rather sleep. He hoped sitting in steaming, hot water for a bit would help her do just that. "It doesn't even feel like it's still morning," she sighed.
No, it certainly did not. It felt much later. At Hal's insistence, he sat with her while she soaked, the steam and faint scent of lavender making them both drowsy. After nearly falling asleep in the water, he forced her out so that she could rest someplace where she wasn't at risk for drowning. Back in her nightgown and hunkered deep under the covers, Hal looked much more at ease.
She glanced over at him and gave him a small smile, pulling him down beside her. "Come, lay with me."
Not needing to be told twice, Murtagh gladly did as she commanded. As he laid out beside her, Hal conformed to his body with her own. As he slid his arm under her shoulders, she put her head on his chest. He pulled her body into his side and she threw one leg over his, each body part finding its place. This small routine came with its own comforts and sense of security that put Murtagh at ease. He breathed her in, Hal's hand running up and down his chest while his fingers stroked her arm and back.
It wasn't long before Hal was asleep, leaving Murtagh awake with his thoughts. At least, he thought she was sleeping, until she snuggled deeper into him and muttered, "If you are going to be a pillow, then you need to relieve some of that tension, rider. You are too stiff and your thinking is too loud."
"I'm trying to brood, stop ruining it by making me laugh."
Hal turned to look at him with intrigue written across her face. "Oh, you're trying to be broody, are you? Well then by all means, please don't stop on my account. I somewhat miss Broody Murtagh."
"'Broody Murtagh?'" he repeated, his brows going up as she nodded, moving ever closer. He snickered, trying to ignore his rampant heartrate. "Who or what is a 'Broody Murtagh?'"
"He was difficult, make no mistake," Hal began, settling on top of him. "But he was entertaining too. You would be all 'I'm not a good person' —"
"I didn't sound like that."
"You absolutely did. You would insist you were no good, and then you would turn around and do things like take my face in your hands and tell me to save myself from the Ra'zac," — he groaned, laughing as she continued — "or, oh this was my favorite, when you let drunk me feel you up at that party because you didn't want me to feel bad."
"You didn't feel me up, Hal."
"Darling, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but I absolutely did. And it was magnificent."
He stared at her, stunned. "No —"
"Ohh, and the way you pulled me away from the party, all concerned and worried about me —"
"Because I was actually concerned and worried about you!"
Hal was laughing now, reveling in his flushed cheeks. Pushing his hair back from his face, she said, "There's no need to be embarrassed. Clearly all your charm paid off after all."
She cupped his cheek, beginning to pull herself towards him for a kiss when he hesitated and asked, "Were you really just using me for my body?"
She shook her head, her nose brushing against his teasingly. "I'll never tell." She kissed him quickly before setting her hand flat on his chest, stacking her chin on top as she gazed up at him, smiling fondly. "I still remember the way you looked at me from across the fire. Heavens, your eyes even then tore right through me. I knew in that moment that if I wasn't careful I'd wind up falling for you."
"Even then? As ornery and distant as I was?"
"You had all the makings of the man I would fall in love with: you were compassionate, witty, brave…those traits didn't suddenly appear. They simply evolved in ways that became easier for you to recognize."
"That night was something special, wasn't it?" Hal tilted her head and his smile broadened. "Oh, I know you are not so innocent as to assume that you weren't aware of the affect you had on me."
Her mouth fell open as though aghast, but he had a distinct feeling her surprise was sincere. "Me?"
"Yes, Hal, you. I could hardly take my eyes off you the entire night. And no, not only because I was worried about you."
Her endearing smile was proof that she had truly had no idea. "Really?"
"Yes, really." She just stared at him, smiling so ridiculously that he finally succumbed. "What?"
"It's just nice. To have such good memories to look back on. Like, that party was hard on me, emotionally. And I remember how relieved I felt when you pulled me away so that I could just…stop pretending like I was okay. But our relationship changed that night. The fact that that's what we're recalling now, a year later and engaged…" She trailed off, looking faintly embarrassed as she shrugged. "I guess there are so many memories that I avoided for so long, and for obvious reasons. But this doesn't hurt. I can look back at that party with time and perspective and acknowledge that I was hurting and still feel grateful for how it brought you and me closer together."
"In that case, we owe the Nïdhwal a special call-out in our wedding vows."
His tone was so flat that Hal stared at him for several moments processing what he had said. Then they both burst into laughter, the sound obnoxious and loud as if they had just been drinking. "Good heavens, can you imagine the look on everyone's face if we managed to fit that in?"
"Tena would be so disappointed." Hal laughed even harder. "Wait, I just realized, what would our wedding look like? Would it be similar to the one I attended?"
"Oh, no, good sir. You would be marrying a village leader. That's a week-long ceremony as far as the Tenari are concerned."
"A week?!"
"Absolutely." And she dove right into a detailed account of what he could expect, events ranging from hunting parties, dinner parties, purification parties (to cleanse their new home of bad omens to make way for a strong marriage), and more. But as he listened to Hal describe these details in full, he noticed a glaring omission that began to bother him.
"What about Sani traditions?" he asked.
"What do you mean?"
He licked his lips, choosing his words carefully. "I know the one time you spoke of it, you said you didn't remember much. But what you do remember, do you not want that as part of our ceremony? We could do a new moon instead of a full moon, nothing drastic." When she didn't immediately respond, he added, "I know it's not the same as having your family there. But if you want some piece of that part of you represented, all you have to do is tell me. And I'll make sure no one challenges you otherwise."
"Really?"
"Of course, really."
"All right then. I guess I'll think about it." He nodded and Hal gave him a curious look. "What about you? Do you have any traditions of your own that you'd want to include?"
"Oh, absolutely not. The less of my family that's "present" at our wedding, the better."
"It doesn't have to be something of your parents. But I know you, and you will try to make this wedding all about me. I don't want that, rider. It's our wedding. I want both of us to be present in it somewhere. Promise me you'll think about it."
He chuckled. "Yes, yes, I promise.
She studied him, her smile widening. "Rider?"
"Hmm?"
"We're getting married." He could hear the giddy awe in her voice as she shook her head. "I do not think I will ever fully comprehend how you have so profoundly changed the course of my life." Her expression softened as she looked at him. "I can't wait to marry you, Murtagh."
"I couldn't have said it better myself."
Smiling, Hal laid her head down, wrapping her arms around his hips. "Well now, that's much better."
"What?"
She sighed, content. "You're much less tense. I might actually get some sleep now."
Murtagh made a face, holding back his laughter. "Well played, iet dunei. Well played."
He waited for her witty reply, braced for their usual banter. But Hal's exhaustion was genuine, because he glanced down after a few moments and realized she was truly asleep. However, his mind did not immediately drift to all the negative thoughts he'd been dwelling on before. Instead, thanks to Hal, all he could see was a very bright, very lovely, future. And he would much rather spend what free time he did have at the moment focused on that.