"How many cities are occupied under King Orrin in Surda?"
"Seven cities and two towns that were folded in as part of Orrin's—"
"King Orrin's," Giles corrected gently.
Hal winced, her informality with titles her biggest hurdle to date. It just felt unnatural to use them. "As part of King Orrin's deal with her majesty.
"And they are…?"
After she listed them off, Giles then had her point to the corresponding lord or lady that ruled each respective city. While she didn't have a firm idea of who all would actually attend, Giles, Merida, and Juliet had been over-preparing her under the expectation that everyone would show up.
"There are a high number of nobles that will be watching you even more carefully than they will Master Murtagh," Merida had explained a week ago.
Hal, who had been standing in front of the mirror in her room receiving her final measurements by the royal seamstress was stunned by this. "Me? More than Murtagh? That can't be right."
Juliet, who was making the bed, looked up and said, "Quite contrary, Miss. Master Murtagh's reputation and past are common knowledge. And, if I may be so bold to say, he still has an air about him that is rather standoffish."
"Ah, yes, that's what I like to call his personality." She and the handmaidens shared a teasing smile at Murtagh's expense, but Hal's chest had tightened and she had to look away. True to his word, he had kept his distance. And even though she felt that they had left things in a better place after their conversation in the hallway, Hal was still a wreck of amassed guilt. She hated this feeling. Hated it.
Merida, seeing the pain in Hal's eyes, quickly cleared her throat, a likely signal to Juliet meant to be subtle. But Hal still smiled. She was glad she had reached a point where the handmaidens even cared about her feelings. Their kindness was not lost on her, and she was grateful for it.
"But you," Juliet continued quickly, "are an unknown. The woman who appeared as though from thin air, now engaged to the son of the most notorious member in the war after Galbatorix himself. People will expect something of you."
"Like what? What if I am just Halen?"
"But you are not 'just Halen' anymore," Merida told her. "You will one day be the wife of Murtagh Morzansson. People will wonder if you are a harlot who seduced him, or a sorceress who ensnared him. They will expect you to have political knowledge and a high-class background that would make you of use to them. They are looking, Miss, for nothing more than a pawn."
"Then they will be sorely disappointed when they discover I was raised in a poor, remote village and chased wildlife and children in my spare time. I am of no use to anyone."
"They will see the way Master Murtagh looks at you," Juliet said, fluffing the pillows dramatically. "If someone thinks you can be of use, they will find a way."
Hal had fallen silent then, recalling in that moment that already the crown had used her in such a way. The idea that that was only the beginning made her lightheaded, and she promptly requested a change of topic.
After that, admittedly disturbed by the warning, Hal had thrown herself into her studies so that she would not be caught unaware. She did not want her ignorance to become a weakness others could use to manipulate Murtagh. Not to mention it was the only distraction she had from Murtagh not speaking with her. Now, Hal sat on her balcony with Giles, doing her final review of everything she had learned over the past two weeks. She'd eaten a light breakfast and lunch, the handmaidens insisting that tonight's banquet meal would be heavy enough that she wouldn't want too much food on her stomach. "Not to mention, we want to make sure you fit into your dress," Merida had added, catching Hal's longing looks as she had pushed away the breakfast cart.
"Very good, very good," said Giles, leaning back in his chair. "Miss Halen, I don't think there's anything left for me to teach you."
"Oh, I think there's always something to learn, Giles. But thank you for taking the time to educate me. I've forgotten how much I enjoy learning new things."
"I know a scholar when I see one," he agreed with a smile. "If you'd had even half of the resources Murtagh and I did, you'd probably be on the smartest people in all the country."
"That's a high compliment."
"Hardly. It simply means there are more idiots than we care to admit."
Hal threw a leftover biscuit from lunch at him and he laughed, rising to his feet. "And if I recall, you get off the silent treatment today."
Hal groaned in relief. "I never want him mad at me again. These past few days have been awful. This is the third time he's been mad at me — like, really mad at me — but this is the first time I've lied to him about something so personal."
"What on earth happened the other two times."
"Well, the first time was when I nearly got myself killed, and second was when I suggested we get married so that I could file for his pardon."
Giles stared at her unblinkingly, then shook his head. "Ah, not quite the same."
"No, not quite," she agreed.
"Well, I know the idiot's been keeping his head down trying to catch up. He's had six years of negotiations, tax laws, treaties, civil disputes, and heaven knows what else to catch up on. Holed up in his room or in meetings, I imagine he'll be thrilled to see you."
"Especially when he gets a look at Miss Halen in her dress," said Juliet, her bright face appearing out of nowhere in the doorway. "Hello Mr. Brighamson, Miss Halen."
"I imagine you're here to help Hal get ready?"
"Yes sir."
"Then that means I still have about five hours before I need to start getting ready myself," he said jokingly, and Hal made a face. Although she could only imagine how long this would take.
"Only if you want to look like a poor man upon arrival," Juliet quipped back.
Giles threw his head back and laughed. "Fair enough. Hal, I'll see you tonight, all right."
"All right," she said, suddenly very nervous. He shot her an encouraging smile before exiting the room.
"How are you feeling, Miss Halen?" Merida asked, sweeping through the room with a box in hand.
"Well enough. A little uneasy."
"No need, no need. You're sharp as a whip and brilliant to match. By the time Juliet and I are done with you, your fiancé will be chasing the men off with that dragon of his."
Hal tried not to laugh at the image that conjured. "Oh, I don't know about that —"
But Merida lifted the lid of the box and Hal froze as she got her first look at her dress. The woman pulled it out and laid it out onto the bed, and Hal's mouth fell open. "I'm wearing…that?"
Merida grinned wickedly. "That dragon rider of yours will never get mad at you again."
They began the long process of preparing Hal for the banquet. They ran her bath, and Hal took her book with her, propping it up on the stool beside the tub as she continued to study many names and faces and titles of the Nasuada's expected guests. Just to be safe. After letting her soak on her own for a bit, Juliet and Merida returned to scrub her back and wash her hair. They gossiped as they got Hal cleaned up, pointing to various nobles and sharing in the latest rumors and scandals that had them all giggling like children. She was rather fascinated and entertained by the handmaidens' bold assertions of who was snobbish, handsy, arrogant, decent, or downright deplorable. They held nothing back, and the blunt candor made her smile with the giddiness of gossip that reminded her of home.
After they had her step out the bath, they then plied her skin with gentle-smelling oils and balms, something that reminded Hal of a garden in spring. She inhaled pleasantly, and Merida promised to keep it in the bathing room for Hal to use at her leisure.
Juliet worked on Hal's hair, which she carefully brushed and detangled until the curls were smooth and shining. Merida buffed Hal's nails, clipping them down and smoothing them out until they looked like the hands of lady. Hal's hair was carefully twisted and pinned, brushed and wrapped, until it was successfully put up in an elegant bun that was made to look messy, with curly strands hanging loose around her face and a bit near her neck. But unlike Hal's usually unrefined up-dos, this softened Hal's face considerably, making her seem almost doe-like and frightfully innocent, with wide-eyes and round cheeks. She looked…delicate. Hal stared at the woman in the mirror, confused when she blinked as Hal did, moved her head as Hal did. She did not think she would ever get used to the magic her handmaidens worked on her.
The finishing touch, of course, was the dress. Hal removed her robe and stepped, first, into her silk, sleeve-less chemise. Then came the regretful part of the whole affair. "I know you'd prefer not to wear a corset, Miss Halen," Juliet consoled as they pulled the garment up to Hal's chest. "But it's for one night only. We won't put it too tight."
Hal felt that their thoughts on what "too tight" meant were clearly different from hers. But they constantly checked her breathing and they gave Hal a few moments to get used to the contraption before moving on to the dress. "Alright, Miss, step in this way," directed Merida, who pulled it up gently. Juliet eased Hal's arms into each sleeve. When the dress was on, both women set to work fastening it in the back so that it became fitted, but not uncomfortably so. They checked every ruffle and made sure no hem was tucked away or turned out.
While they worked, Hal stared at herself in the full-length mirror. The dress was outrageously beautiful, and she felt a tremor of apprehension at the thought of ruining it. It looked like something she would expect a queen to wear. It was a royal blue that reminded her of a sapphire. And it was rather lightweight material too, perhaps satin, so the dress itself wasn't too heavy. The sleeves were long and puffy, but not ridiculously so, cinched around her wrist to dramatize the flare at the end. But they hung off her shoulders, leaving them completely bare. And while Hal herself didn't mind, it felt like a bold choice on the mainland. Especially since the fit around her chest and torso, dramatized by the corset, pushed her chest out rather significantly. The beaded design on the front was silver, hand-stitched in a semi-floral design. The skirt itself flared out at the hips, truly emphasizing just what everyone had meant when they told Hal she would be wearing a "ball gown" and not a dress.
"There is a lot that goes into the makings of a perfect dress," Merida said, catching Hal's stunned gaze in the mirror. "The look, the texture, the color all determine how people will see you. We could've matched you to Master Murtagh, but for your royal debut, we thought it best to emphasize your individuality. This dress is meant to represent temptation, boldness, determination, and power, and beauty. Lest they forget that only a woman of great ferocity could capture the heart of a dragon rider and make the mistake of underestimating you."
Hal felt herself straightening up at Merida's heartfelt speech, fighting the urge to cry by how moved she felt. "Thank you. Both of you."
"Hold your head up, love," Juliet said with a smile. "And give them hell."
…
Murtagh always preferred arriving early, the servants and kitchen staff still running around like mad, putting on the final touches before people were set to arrive. It was strange to be standing in the ballroom where Galbatorix would also entertain his guest, but back then there had always been an air of darkness and danger in the events.
Nasuada had brought light back into the room, bathing it in the warm glow of the setting sun that bounced of the gold detailing on the walls. Rather than risk ruining the mosaic on the ceiling with hanging chandeliers, orbs of candlelight that looked almost like magic adorned the walls, creating a romantic effect that softened the entire space. The tiled floor was lightly patterned and scrubbed to perfection that Murtagh could practically see his reflection in them. The large, arched balcony doors had been left open so that guests may mingle outside, with a fantastic view overlooking the expansive gardens, the lights of Ilirea just beyond. It looked to be a clear night. The tables of food were set up against the wall, glasses of wine already being set out.
"Murtagh. I didn't expect to see you here so early."
He turned and bowed as Nasuada entered from one of her private chambers behind the elaborate chair she was to occupy for the night. A table had been set up in front of it, with chairs for the most important guests: Arya, Orrin, Orik, Roran, Murtagh, and Hal. He was relieved, at least, that he and Hal would be sitting together at the end.
"I figured it would be in bad taste to arrive late considering I am here to make a positive impression. Also, I always preferred arriving to parties early. I feel like it's better on my nerves."
"Aye, I feel the same way. It is not typical, I know. A queen should arrive last and be announced, and all that." She waved her hand dismissively. "But I feel like I have more control because I do not have to make as much effort to insert myself into conversation. Besides, this way, they have to come to me."
He laughed, unable to fault her reasoning. While he knew the guests tonight would be announced as they arrived, he had quietly asked her if he might not be. He had been forced to make such an entrance when Galbatorix had deemed him ready for his big "debut" and he was loathed to remember that moment. How hollow inside he had felt while hundreds of eyes looked on, the whispers unbearable. Nasuada had understood and gladly stripped it from the agenda.
She observed him appreciatively. "The royal tailor did a marvelous job on your wardrobe."
"Yes, I'm pleased with how everything turned out. It's been a while since I've worn anything quite this fine. It feels rather out of character now."
"Well, you look quite handsome. The red especially is a nice touch."
He smiled. "Yes, I thought so too."
The ensemble was carefully put together, with fitted black trousers tucked into black leather boots that had been shined and polished for showmanship. Murtagh couldn't imagine if he ever had to fight in them though. They would pinch his toes horribly. Over his simple, button-up white tunic he wore a golden cloth vest. Over that he wore a deep red coat — because of course — that hung down to his knees in the back and was carefully draped open. The gold of his vest was matched by the gold threads woven into his coat, designed like long leaves and oak leaves up close, but from a distance looked almost like elaborate flames instead. A similar design was also sewn into the cuffs of his sleeves. Zar'roc hung from a black leather belt strapped around his waist, the tear-drop pommel sticking out from underneath his coat.
His skin had been scrubbed until he was clean, his jaw freshly shaven and his hair neatly trimmed and brushed until it had a sheen of its own. He had to admit that even he was impressed with the final product and told himself to remember to thank Merida and Juliet once more for tending to him so diligently.
"Are you nervous?" Nasuada asked as the servant by the door announced the first batch of guests. She didn't even look in their direction, so Murtagh thought it best to simply follow her lead.
"Perhaps a little. After everything I have gained the last few months, I admit that I can no longer pretend the ridicule and hatred I have faced has been easy to bear. But so far, I have born much of it from a distance. I do not expect tonight to be as forgiving."
"That may be true. But regardless of how tonight goes, I think it's important to also remember that those whose opinions matter most to you, are already on your side. You are not alone. Not anymore."
"No. I supposed I'm not." He smiled. "Thank you."
"My Queen!" A voice boomed, echoing around the vast ballroom. Murtagh turned as an older man approached. He had pale skin and bright red hair with a mustache to match. Exuberant hair for an exuberant personality. He had a broad smile and a round stomach. As he came closer, he only came up to Murtagh's chest, and both men bowed their heads to one another before the man bowed to Nasuada.
"Lord Farst, a pleasure to see you as always. Murtagh, this is Lord Farst of Gil'ead. Lord Farst, our guest of honor, Murtagh Morzansson."
"Oh, I know who he is, your majesty," Farst said, sounding pleasant enough. To Murtagh he said, "I admit, I was little skeptical when I first heard the news. But I've been hearing rather curious stories about you since you have turned yourself in. Very curious indeed. I will be interested to see how you make out now that you have earned your pardon."
"I cannot claim much," Murtagh admitted humbly, surprised with how easily he reverted back into his calm, court demeanor. "I am only grateful that her majesty granted me a pardon at all. I know I have much work to do to earn the trust of you and the people, and that this is all only the beginning. But I do hope you and I will be able to work together."
Farst stared as if Murtagh had slapped him, then gave a deep belly laugh that made his pale cheeks flush. "Oh, my heavens, you are not at all what I expected. Did Nasuada whip you into shape that quickly?"
"She did have some hand in it yes," Murtagh agreed. He and Nasuada both shared a smile.
"Only some, eh? And what, or perhaps, who else would you say contributed to this new Murtagh Morzansson? Anyone I might know?"
Murtagh knew a question fishing for a particular answer when he heard it. After a moment of thought, the answer became obvious. Giving Farst a tight-lipped smile, Murtagh said, "I would really have to give credit to my betrothed. I would not be here if not for her patience and compassion."
"Ahh, yes, yes, yes, I've heard," Farst said quickly, stepping forward. Confirming then that this was, indeed, what the man had been hoping for, which Murtagh was only partially surprised by. He and Giles had discussed this at length. Along with Thorn coming to her aid at the gates, it was now common knowledge that the Black Hand had tried to kill her to get to Murtagh. Hal was, quite officially now, his weakness.
"There seems to be an air of mystery surrounding her, Dragon Rider. Pray tell, is she of any noble birth? What is her family name?"
"No, my lord. She was actually born in a remote village. I happened to meet her in my travels after she saved my life."
"I see. Will she be joining us tonight?" The man began craning his neck around the room, as if he would simply know Hal on sight. "I'm most eager to make her acquaintance."
Murtagh's smile was polite, trying to suppress his more protective instinct. "Yes, she will."
"Giles Brighamson!"
Murtagh perked up at the first familiar name of the evening, turning to see his friend walking down the stairs. He almost waved his hand to get the man's attention, but Giles' gaze was low, even as he stopped at the bottom. Murtagh knew his friend was as much of a fan of these state dinners as Murtagh himself. Giles stood at the base of the stairs and turned his gaze back up, waiting.
"Halen Zarasdaughter!"
Murtagh snapped to attention at her name, so much so that Farst whipped around as if he knew immediately that Halen was the woman they'd just been talking about. Out of the corner of his eyes, he spotted Baldor and Albriech, who had entered separately and quietly took their place against the wall since they could not mingle directly with the guests. Murtagh inhaled sharply at the sight of her, and he felt just as he did that night of the wedding back on Illium. But to see her dressed so elegantly in garb of the court produced a new shock to his system.
He could tell she was nervous, her gaze barely lifting from the floor. And when she did raise her chin a bit, she seemed to only focus on a single, empty spot on the floor in the middle of the room. A tip, he recalled, from Tornac that Giles must've taught her for if she didn't want to meet anyone's gaze if it made her too nervous.
She seemed to exhale in relief when she reached the bottom, Giles stepping to her with a proud smile before offering her his arm. It took several moments before Hal seemed to even feel his gaze on her, and her eyes lifted immediately to his. Her smile was slow to form. Bogged down, he knew, by her guilt. But truthfully, Murtagh was relieved that he had told her he needed only until the banquet. Because if had still harbored any bad feelings towards her, it would be impossible to do so now.
Everything about her was temptation embodied. The way the loose curls framed her face, the way her up-do made her neck appear long, emphasized by strapless design that bared her shoulders and…his face reddened. He knew the effects of a corset when he saw one, and he sent a silent prayer of gratitude to whatever god had put Hal in one tonight. The curve of her waist flowed right into the wide skirt, which moved with her like it was made of air. As she drew closer, he noticed the faint, floral smell on her skin that was pleasant without being overwhelming. He wasn't the only guest watching her either. Where she walked, eyes followed along with knowing whispers, as she drew closer to Murtagh.
She came to stand beside him, and he swallowed, confused as to why he felt nervous. Yet she seemed so regal and mesmerizing that he felt like he paled in comparison in every possible way. Surely this stunning woman was not meant for someone like him?
And yet…
His smile widened as Hal slipped her arm through his and beamed up at him, her eyes twinkling as if she knew the very thoughts racing through his mind. Absolutely none of them were polite. Giles stood to her other side, bowing to Nasuada. Hal quickly curtsied before her gaze turned back to Murtagh's.
"Hello," she said.
"Hello," he repeated, waiting for his mind to reset so that he could pull his thoughts together like a proper human being. You are breathtaking, he told her, the compliment feeling almost too personal to say aloud.
He could see the flush that darkened her cheeks. "Thank you."
There was a less-than-subtle clearing of the throat, and Murtagh fought the urge to roll his eyes as he turned back to the other members of the group that he had completely forgotten about. "Lord Farst, I'm honored to introduce you to Giles Brighamson, —" Giles bowed his head before the two shook hands — "and my fiancé, Halen Zarasdaughter. Giles, Halen, this is —"
"Lord Rupert Farst," Hal said smoothly, offering him her hand, "of Gil'ead, yes?"
"Aye, right you are," he said, clearly impressed, as he swiftly took her hand and kissed it. Then he held on to it, clasping it in his as he added, "And might I just say that you are even lovelier than I could have imagined, my lady. Far lovelier. The rumors did you no justice at all." Farst stared with wide-eyes, as though just as confused as Murtagh as to what this woman could possibly being doing with someone like him. He gently lowered her hand to her side. "And Zarasdaughter is a good name. Do you intend to keep it after you've wedded?"
Hal tilted her head in confusion, but Murtagh understood immediately the intent behind the question. "Why would I keep my name? It's custom and expected for the woman to take her husband's name, is it not?"
There was a moment of silence where Murtagh's face grew red and hot with shame. Nasuada shot Farst a sharp look, clearly hoping, as did Murtagh, that the man would not be so blatantly bold. But that hope was wasted, because the man said with little regard, "I imagine the name Morzan, and therefore Morzansson, would make things even harder for you than they might be now."
"Perhaps," she said, in an almost thoughtful way as if she were giving his advice actual consideration. But Murtagh could hear the control in her voice, subtle as it was. "Sadly though, the name Zarasdaughter was taken from me by Galbatorix and his forces. I lost the privilege of being someone's daughter. I have spent more than ten years neither hearing or using it, because I am more than my name. And Murtagh is more than his. So, I think Halen Morzansson will suit me just as well."
"Ah, I'm not so sure. I bet Murtagh can tell you, but people will not take so kindly to it, you know. No fault of his own, or yours, of course—"
"The way I see it, Lord Farst," Hal interrupted, her voice tight while her smile remained sharp and polite, "is if I must be the one to change the connotation of the surname Morzansson, then I will do so by using it proudly. I know who I've chosen to marry and I will not hide behind my maiden name as if I harbor any shame against Murtagh. If that were the case, I would not make a very good wife."
The group became quiet and Murtagh's heart was racing as he stared at her. His chest was tight with emotion, her polite, passive-aggressive defense of him hitting as hard as it ever did.
"You speak your mind quite confidently," Farst said slowly, not quite offended, yet unsure of how he should feel. He studied Hal as if seeing parts of the woman for who she was, not who rumors led her to be.
"I was fortunate enough to be raised in a village that encouraged it," she said simply. Then she grinned and added, "Even if they didn't always like what I had to say."
"I admit that her candor can feel intimidating at first," Murtagh said lightly, finding his voice and feeling like he should try and say something. "But if it wasn't for her blunt tongue, I probably would not be here now."
Hal snorted. They both knew that was an understatement.
Farst raised an amused brow. "I see." He looked back at Hal. "I have a feeling there will be fun to be had with you here, Miss Halen."
"Murtagh did once say things could never be boring with me around."
"I'm finding myself in agreement with Murtagh then." Farst was momentarily distracted by a few more bodies entering the room, then quickly looked back at Hal, only Hal, and said, "Pardon me for just one moment, Miss Halen."
"Of course, Lord Farst." However, the second Farst was out of earshot, Hal's expression dropped as she turned so that only Nasuada, Murtagh, and Giles could see her face. "I need wine if I'm going to have to get through dozens more of those asinine conversations," she snapped, shooting a dirty look at Farst over her shoulder. "I can't believe the nerve of him, telling me to use my maiden name like I'm some sort of idiot. Pompous little —"
"Oh, Miss Halen!"
Hal flinched, and everyone looked up, quickly throwing smiles onto their faces as Lord Farst came bumbling back with two glasses of wine in hand. He handed one to Hal, who looked confused and nervous and was doing her best to smile. Lord Farst took her free arm in his and said, "Would you fancy a walk about the room? There's a few people I would like to introduce you to."
"I-I-I would be delighted," Hal said reactively, her voice tight. And as he began to lead her away, Hal looked over her shoulder at Murtagh, clearly panicked and realizing she had no idea what she had gotten herself into. For a moment, he actually did begin to worry, despite his amusement. The politics of court were a careful balance. Hal had handled Farst impeccably well. But he also knew the guests would overwhelm her, and she was here to support him. To make sure he felt comfortable. It would not be right to leave her on her own.
He took a step forward but Nasuada held out her hand to stop him. "Wait," she said, her eyes carefully trained on Hal, who Lord Farst was beginning to introduce to the other attendees that had arrived.
"What? Why? I can't leave her to fend for herself."
Nasuada shook her head. "Just observe for now. I have a feeling the nobles will not be as tight lipped around Hal as they might be around you. And I am curious as to what they will have to say."
"Your majesty, you know Hal did not grow up in this life as we did."
"You're absolutely right," Nasuada said, turning to look at him, a mischievous spark in her eyes. "She grew up learning to fight actual predators."
"That's not what I meant."
"I know what you meant, Murtagh. And I am saying that we stand down for now. If Hal handles herself the way she has handled everything else, then I have a very good feeling about how tonight will go. Perhaps Mr. Giles can stay near, just in case?"
Giles, who looked a little whiplashed himself from how quickly things were moving, nodded. "Yes, I can do that. I can definitely do that. I can do that…" He stalked off, almost seeming as frazzled as Hal.
Nasuada gave the scene a final, appraising look, before turning to greet another noble who had approached. Murtagh shot Hal a worrying glance, grateful she couldn't see with her back to him. He did not want to crowd her or treat her like she could not handle herself. But he didn't want her to feel abandoned by him either. He would keep a close eye on her, as would Giles. Otherwise…
"Murtagh," Nasuada called out to him, "I have someone I'd like for you to meet."
He took a deep breath, plastering on his own fake smile. He'd almost forgotten that he had his own fawning to do tonight.
…
Hal felt a false sense of confidence as she strolled arm-in-arm with Farst, trying not to guzzle her wine. She knew she was too loose of tongue when she started drinking, and this was not the audience or the setting to begin spouting her thoughts and feelings haphazardly. But dammit, she could really use it right about now.
She had no doubt that Farst was still toying with her, trying to figure out if he had any use for her. Hal was, of course, doing the same thing to him. She was combing through her lessons with her handmaidens, connecting names with faces as guests began to congregate inside. Farst would whisper his own opinions and judgements to Hal as lords and ladies, earls and countesses, and other high-society "puppets" strolled in with mixed emotions. Hal watched them carefully, passing judgements of her own in silence.
"Lord Farst! Pleasure to see you."
Hal turned as Farst straightened up as a man approached, just a few inches taller than Hal. His silver hair was carefully combed back, his beard and mustache precisely trimmed. Despite the delight in his voice, there was none in his eyes, and even Farst looked rather peeved as the man approached, his posture becoming stiff and unwelcoming. But if either man noticed this about the other, they didn't comment.
"Lord Bailey, how wonderful that you could come."
"Hardly. I don't delight in having to sit through this preposterous ceremony. I don't know what Nasuada was thinking, but I'm certainly questioning her ability to make intelligent decisions after this nightmare. Once a traitor, always a traitor."
"The same can be said of an ass," Hal grumbled into her wine glass. "Although I have no doubt that it will not stop you from kissing hers the moment you need something." Giles choked on his wine behind her and she fought the urge to crack a smile.
Both men stared at her in disbelief, Farst's face turning red from trying to choke back his laughter, and Bailey from trying to control his temper. Something Hal had quickly failed to do. Her demeanor with Lord Farst had felt controlled with Nasuada and Murtagh beside her, and she felt the desperate need to put on even more of a show with them watching. But Lord Farst, while she didn't appreciate his sentiments, had seemed open to Murtagh, if not a little dimwitted at the same time. Something about Bailey came off as entirely antagonistic, and Hal was in no mood to be civil if these so-called nobles could not be.
"Who the bloody hell do you think you are, speaking to me in that repugnant manner?"
"Bailey, this is Halen Zarasdaughter," Farst said before Hal could speak. He said it quickly, as if she were a prized mare and he was showing her off to the others. "She's the one everyone's talking about; the one engaged to Morzansson." Hal knew he was fishing for further scandal; and, judging by how Bailey's face went from red to purple, Hal figured Farst had succeeded.
"Have some self-respect before you go around announcing that like it's something to be proud of. And stay far away from me!"
He stalked off in a huff, looking quite insulted. Hal decided in that moment to throw caution to the wind and threw back the rest of her wine before announcing she was going to fetch herself another glass. Farst looked positively delighted.
…
"So how did you and Morzansson meet?"
Hal stared at what was only her third, empty wineglass, wishing there was a spell in the ancient language to refill it with her mind. After several failed attempts to introduce Hal to the guests, Farst had found his footing with the gossiping wives of the court: ladies, countesses, and the like currently formed a circle around Hal, their eyes looking her over slowly, their noses upturned as if they could not fathom how a duck had found its way amongst the swans.
"We met on Illium, where I live. I saved his life, to put it simply. And the longer he stayed, the closer we became." Hal spoke simply enough, not wanting to give them too much personal details. She had to remind herself to raise her head when she spoke, to make eye contact so they did not get the impression that they were making her nervous. But she was still smarting from the harsh glares and rejections she had endured up to this point. She was used to rubbing people the wrong way on occasion, but even she was beginning to feel rather ill at being in a room full of people who made their disdain quite obvious. It was no easier to bear just because she had tried to brace herself for it.
"Is that all it takes to accept the love of the most hated man in the country?" It was Countess Dalton who had spoken, and she giggled her question as if Hal's initial answer had been a testament to her affections.
"Well, you asked how we met, not how we fell in love." She would think someone so well educated would know the difference, but she didn't say that out loud. She was actually trying to hold back her tongue. However, the woman's cheeks still turned pink at Hal's subtle condescension, and the other women tittered in amusement. "I couldn't possibly condense it all into a single talking point."
"Although, Eliza does bring up a valid and interesting piece of information," said Lady Tolbert. Hal remembered that her husband had been placed in Belatona after Galbatorix's demise. She was a tall and lean woman, with pale skin, dark hair, and light eyes that, even though she was much older than some of the other women in the group, gave her a chilling air of beauty and cunning that Hal did not care for. This woman was clearly trouble. And worst of all, she knew it. "Tell us: Morzansson must be quite the charmer if all it took were a few sweet words for you to fall into bed with him."
"Now, now Synthia," Farst said quickly, practically giddy. Damn instigator.
"What?" the woman asked innocently. "Everyone here is thinking it."
"Thinking what, exactly?" Hal's voice was tight, but she wanted the woman to have the audacity to actually say the words rather than hint at them in such a disgustingly sweet manner.
"Oh. You do not know?" Lady Tolbert shared a knowing look with the woman beside her, who happened to be Lord Bailey's wife. Then she gave Hal a pitying look. "Why, my poor child, everyone knows you are nothing more than the traitor's whore. His plaything, so to speak. Morzan was incapable of feeling anything, why should his son be any different?"
Hal bristled, momentarily thrown by those words she hated so much. Traitor's whore.
Lady Tolbert smiled deliciously at Hal's bitter silence and used it as an opportunity to continue her attack. "I mean, what did you expect? That you and Morzansson would waltz in here with a pathetic love story and his attempt at redemption and…what? We would all fall to his feet as you so clearly have done?"
"Your opinions mean little to me or Murtagh," Hal said tightly. "He wanted to do the right thing and turn himself in. I supported his decision — as did your queen — whole-heartedly and I will continue to stand by his side."
"So, do you not care about the blood on his hands. He led armies that killed hundreds of Varden soldiers. His crimes are as legendary as his father's, which is saying something considering how long his father was terrorizing the country by comparison. And yet you are still able to live with yourself as the wife of a murderer and traitor?"
Hal eyed the woman carefully, seeing the dangerous gleam in her eyes. She was baiting Hal. She was looking for Hal to lose her temper, to cry or scream. To say the absolute wrong thing and make things worse for herself and for Murtagh. She wanted a reaction. She wanted to cause a scene. And Hal was tempted to give her one simply to make herself feel better.
"Murtagh's sins are not erased or lessened because he has chosen a path of redemption," Hal said slowly. "All the good he has done and will do, will not erase the choices he made, whether he wanted to make them or not. I did not fall in love with his actions, but his character. It is not my place to say whether or not he has received his just dues for what he's done. But so long as he continues to walk the path he is on, one that is honest and kind and loving, then I will continue to stand by him, as I have done. And I will do so with my head held high. Now, if you will excuse me."
Bowing her head politely, a fake smile plastered on, Hal turned from the group and walked away, aware that her throat was getting painfully swollen with emotion.
"Are you all right?" Giles asked, easing her empty wine glass out of her hand. "You handled yourself brilliantly. I know it doesn't feel like it right now, but you stumped them. It's hard to do, but by not giving them a reaction, you walked away the victor."
"Did I?" she asked, her chest feeling painfully tight. "Because I'm feeling really —"
That's when she felt an arm slip through hers without warning, and a voice loudly proclaim, "Ah, cousin, I've been looking for you."
Hal blanched in confusion as Roran grinned down at her. "Do you mind if I steal her from you for a moment?" he asked Giles, who quickly shook his head. Roran moved her away from the ballroom doors and towards the balcony doors. A few attendees nearby had turned to stare in curiosity at his sudden exclamation, and he smiled at them, bowing his head and calling out to a few by name.
"What do you think you're doing?" Hal asked, genuinely confused but keep her smile visible, instinctively following Roran's lead to act natural.
"I know these people are a right pain in the ass," he said to her surprise; her expression momentarily faltered before she corrected it. "But while I don't have the same titles as them, I still have a highly regarded reputation for fighting in the war while most in this room sat on their asses in comfort and security. I'm making it clear that you and Murtagh have my support, as I doubt they will be inclined to resort to name calling with me around."
Hal's face grew hot, but she gave him a grateful smile. "How much did you overhear?"
"Enough to know brilliantly you handled yourself. Lord Farst likes to stir up drama and I'm sure you could use a reprieve before he leads you to another pack of wolves." He looked down at her and grinned. "Although his mistake was assuming you were a helpless lamb."
She flushed, pleased with his praise, even if it's not how she felt. "Well thank you for that."
"You're overwhelmed and you're being baited by bored, rich snobs with nothing better to do. It's not your fault, and it's the least I could do. Here, let's just step out for some air for a bit."
Roran stopped one of the servants and passed Hal another glass of wine, which she gratefully accepted, before he took another for himself. He raised his glass in acknowledgement to those who called out to him, but he did not leave her side as he led her to the outdoor balcony. Hal was greeted by the cool air of the night and was actually grateful for the slight chill. She actually felt heated in that crowd of people.
When he finally let her arm go, Hal turned towards him with a bashful smile. "I thought I was prepared for tonight. But apparently I cannot equate village politics to castle politics."
"No, not quite. I hate to say it, but you'll get used to it after a while." He stared at the contents of his glass as he swirled it lazily. "The more you can take in and observe, the better off you'll be. Especially if you can figure out everyone's ticks, habits, and quirks without revealing any of your own."
"I see," Hal said thoughtfully.
Roran raised a brow, but didn't ask for elaboration, nor did Hal give it. But she did take his advice to heart. She was good at observing people. That's what she had always done. Watch quietly, patiently, and study what others tended to ignore.
"Ilirea must seem pretty far-fetched compared to home," Roran added, trying to keep the conversation going. She scoffed at the understatement and he chuckled. "I know the feeling."
"Murtagh has sacrificed much to be here. And this pardon has meant more to all of us than words can say. I do not want to appear ungrateful by complaining; but, I admit that it has not been a seamless transition, and not just because of the negative encounters with people here. It's the little things, like the winter weather or not seeing faces I know after seeing them every day for years. It should be the least of my worries at the moment, but sometimes I feel like even that comfort would make a world of difference right about now."
She realized she was rambling and clamped her mouth shut, but Roran was nodding his head in agreement. "I understand the struggle of being far from home. Far from what you know. You're at a disadvantage — you know it, everyone around you knows it. They can use that against you if they so wish. You're vulnerable."
"Not just vulnerable. I feel helpless here. I hate it. I don't know what to do. I'm completely out of my depths." She dropped down on one of the stone benches, too burdened by her feelings that she couldn't even bother to find the strength to stand.
Roran hesitated a moment before sitting down beside her, his expression grim. "There's no point in either of us pretending that what you are up against is simple and easy. And saying something like 'stay strong' or 'keep fighting' only sounds belittling, as I can already tell that you are aware of both of these things and how much easier they are to say than to execute."
"Then what do you suggest, cousin?"
He grinned, and Hal found herself smiling back. "I did not join this war as a soldier," he said, his eyes gazing up at the sky above. "I joined as a man desperate to save the woman he loved." He glanced down then at a gold band on his finger. "Everything I have done, I have done to protect my family. My wife and my children are the reason I get up in the morning. I take pride in the life I have been able to build for them. They are my purpose and my reason for being."
He looked over at her then. "So now you must ask yourself, Halen, what is your purpose? What is your reason for being? For being here? And when you find your answer, you must ask yourself if all of this is worth it? I'm not saying having the answer to that question will make the burdens easier to bear. But if you can arm yourself with the appropriate weapons, you'll find that some battles are easier won than others."
"What if the problem is not my motivations, but me?" She looked over at Roran, her gaze almost pleading for an answer that she knew he could not give. "What if I am simply not strong enough?"
"I don't believe that," he said. "Not after I watched you go toe-to-toe with Orrin, or hearing that you fought off two armed assassins. And not after what Murtagh said you have endured all this time. No one who was weak would have made it as far as you have. But you are in a moment of rapid and frightening upheaval. Only someone who was foolish or arrogant would be impervious to the changes situations like the ones you have found yourself in can bring. Sometimes, you simply have to let go of the control you are desperately holding on to and let those changes happen and trust yourself enough to know that you will turn out all right in the end."
She forced herself to smile, although she was humbled by his words and curious of his advice. "Thank you, Roran," she said. "Truly."
"I'm always happy to be of service," he said with a gracious bow of his head. "Shall we had back in?"
Hal made a face reflexively, dismayed at the very thought. "Do we have to? I typically have plenty of energy for a good party, but I'm already exhausted and we haven't been at it for more than an hour or so."
"Under different circumstances, I would be inclined to agree. But it hasn't escaped my notice that you and Murtagh have not been seen together once. Considering we're supposed to convincing people that Nasuada has not shown biased favoritism…"
"Ah, damn," Hal muttered. "I forgot about that."
"Give yourself a few more moments to catch your breath. I'll head back inside to give you some space."
"Thank you, Roran."
"Think nothing of it. Cousin." And with that, he disappeared back inside. Hal lifted her head up, staring at the stars to help focus on her breathing. But unexpectedly, she felt a familiar presence touch her mind before Thorn said, It's Murtagh. He needs your help.
…
Murtagh had nearly sighed with relief when the line of nobles waiting to be granted a few seconds with Nasuada finally cleared. Because her time was limited, a servant kept near to formally announce each noble and their spouse. They bowed and curtsied, some kissing Nasuada's hand. They made pleasant remarks on the evening, how happy they were to see everyone again, and other polite, short commentary. All the while their eyes flickered to Murtagh, who stood beside the queen with as approachable an expression as possible. Of course, everyone was cordial with Nasuada right there, her face and smile giving nothing away. And the moment they were out of earshot, they would turn to the person beside them and whisper furiously, throwing glances back at Murtagh.
But they had made it through almost everyone, and there was a slight break where Nasuada turned to him and said, "That wasn't a complete disaster. I'm impressed."
"They still don't seem happy to see me."
"No, but they can't all be Farst. He's a rare exception in all things pertaining to political matters. I swear, if he hadn't inherited his title, I would think he got into it solely for the drama and the gossip."
Based on the way the man had been shepherding Hal from group to group earlier, Murtagh could see that reasoning panning out as well. It was as if the man was hoping for some sort of extreme reaction. He knew those types of nobles well.
"But you handled yourself well," she added. "Why don't you take a break, have some wine. I haven't seen Halen in a while but perhaps we should make sure she's seen at your side more than me."
He wanted to remind her that she had been the one to suggest Hal be sent off on her own, but he also knew it was futile. Instead, all he said was, "Thank you, your majesty. I'll be around if you need me."
There was a good crowd in attendance, including all of Nasuada's allies who'd remained in the city to show their support. Murtagh glanced around for Hal but didn't spot her immediately. He was reminded of his first party with the Tenari, and how awkward he felt without her by his side. Even at a time where he hadn't known her all that well, her more easy-going demeanor had been a near-perfect buffer to his more quiet and introverted personality.
Murtagh headed towards a nearby servant who was standing with a serving tray of wine glasses, taking one for himself and stepping out of the public eye to stand near the wall.
"You look like you're having fun," a voice commented. Murtagh looked back, noticing Baldor and Albriech nearby. Both men nodded to him, a clear invitation.
Somewhat relieved to not have to look like a complete fool standing on his own, he made his way over with a grim smile. "I'm not the best at parties. Hal is better at making conversation. Have you seen her?"
"Aye, she and Roran just stepped out. Shall I get her for you?"
Roran? Murtagh hesitated. He hadn't talked to the man at all since learning they were related. Admittedly, he was embarrassed by his curt reaction. He didn't harbor any ill-will towards him, but he wasn't sure if his distance the last few days indicated otherwise. He would have to apologize soon.
"No, let them talk. I can wait."
There was a moment of silence, Murtagh glancing around as if observing the room as he struggled to find a topic of conversation. "Oh, I meant to ask," an actual question coming to him, "the other week…when Hal had her bow and arrows?"
"She said she was feeling restless, wanted to let off some steam and asked if we knew of a place where she could practice." Baldor chuckled. "Well, she said practice, but that clearly wasn't her first time. She was out there for hours. Probably fired hundreds of arrows. I consider myself a skilled archer but she certainly had me beat. It was very impressive."
He wasn't sure why, but that made him smile. Appreciative that even in a matter of days, someone else could see Hal's greatness. "Yes, she is."
The conversation lulled again — if he could even call it that — and Murtagh sipped on his wine, struggling to remember how he had done this before. He definitely recalled attending parties. Why did he not remember being this bad at them? Not to mention Albriech hadn't said a word since Murtagh had arrived, which didn't help if there was only Baldor trying to help maintain the discussion.
I hope you realize, Thorn said, how painful this is for me to witness.
Shut up, Thorn.
You are not a beast, Murtagh. Use your words and talk to them.
I'm not exactly good at this. And who's to say they want me to talk to them as someone like Hal would? They could just be polite.
You are to swear fealty to Nasuada at any moment. This will not be the last time you have to make small talk with people who once saw you as their enemy. But that Murtagh is no more. Let them see the man that the Tenari see. Or that Hal sees. Or at least try not to stand so stiffly, you are making my shoulders ache.
Cheeky.
Thorn chuckled, and Murtagh glanced over at the brothers, wishing he could gauge how interested they were in further dialogue. It was a miracle he had managed to grow close with Hal at all, unable to fathom that their candid and clipped responses had given way to light and airy conversations that felt as natural as breathing. But Hal also instigated many of their talks, or they came about due to life-threatening situations.
Murtagh hoped that people did not have to almost-die around him to make conversation easier.
He then felt a surprise touch on his mind, as if she had heard him thinking about her. Ask them about Carvahall, Hal offered. People often like talking of home. It brings them comfort.
Thorn spoke to you, Murtagh commented with a grimace.
He's very concerned about your shoulders.
He rolled his eyes but was hardly annoyed. You both will be my undoing.
Keep it up and I'll make you endure the rest of this party alone.
He knew she was joking, but even such a thought filled him dread. All right, all right. Just come stand beside me. I feel better when you're near. He heard her chuckle and withdraw, but knew she was on her way. Feeling a slight burst of confidence, he turned back to the brothers and followed her advice.
"What is Carvahall like?" Murtagh asked, his voice quiet. "As the birthplace of my mother, I would like to hear about it. If you do not mind telling me."
He had not realized how desperately he wanted to know until he had asked. Albriech's expression softened as he jumped in to speak first. "Of course, we do not mind, although it is not nearly as spectacular as any of the cities. But, for me, my favorite thing about it is the people. They have more heart and stout than anyone I've met, even now. And while I never knew her personally, I'm sure that includes your mother."
Murtagh felt his throat tighten as he nodded. It occurred to him that he might never truly know his mother's attributes, either from her diary or from someone who had personally known her. Perhaps she was doomed to remain an enigma to him forever.
Baldor jumped in next and both of their expressions and forms were much more at ease the more they talked. Murtagh began to form a picture in his mind of this tiny, remote village. He could certainly see Eragon growing up there, and it would explain much of his more innocuous views that Murtagh had always perceived as naïve. But to hear Albriech and Baldor talk of it, there was also a sense of community and belonging. Something Murtagh had spent his entire childhood pining after and then had dismissed in his later years when he realized it was something he could not have growing up under the king's watchful eye.
If things had been different, could Murtagh have been friends with the two brothers? Would he have spent approaching winters clamoring with great expectation for the traders to arrive, and springs camped out in the Spine with Eragon and Roran?
What would Murtagh have been willing to trade for an upbringing of peace? Would he have received the same scorn being Morzan's son if he had been brought up under different circumstances? The questions flooded his mind, and of course he had no answer. But, he was realizing, he no longer had nothing, like he once assumed he did. He had Thorn, and he had Hal, who had said yes to marrying him. And he had an entire village of people waiting for him. He did not know if this was how his life would have turned out if he had not had the start that he did. And he was not willing to trade their love for any sort of hypothetical.
"Thank you for sharing that with me," Murtagh said as they finished, truly grateful. "I can only imagine how much trust the people of Carvahall must instill in each other if my mother felt safe enough to return to it. I always thought Eragon got his strength from her. But perhaps, I see, that it was the community who raised him. Thank you, both, for taking care of my brother when I could not. And I'll make sure to let Roran know the same when I see him next."
Murtagh bowed his head and they looked on, completely stunned. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye and turned, relieved to see that it was Hal, observing quietly from a distance. He quietly excused himself and hurried over to her, her proud smile blinding. "See," she said, "that wasn't bad at all."
"Harder than it looked though. But thank you for the assist. Once again, proving that I am utterly helpless without you."
They shared a laugh, but as it fell silent, he could feel her anguish like it was his own. "Murtagh —"
"I'm going to stop you right there," he interrupted. "You've already apologized, I've already forgiven you, and I told you I needed space up until the banquet, which you've granted." He took up her hands in his, lifting her knuckles to his lips. "I'm all right, I promise."
"I still just feel awful for what I did. I feel like I should make it up to you somehow."
"Hal," he said, her name almost breathless as he laughed at the same time, endeared by her insistence. "You don't need to prove your loyalty to me. You have done that almost from the moment I've met you. These last few weeks have made that even more abundantly clear. I was upset that you lied. Now I'm not. And that's okay. I'm ready to move forward."
She seemed reluctantly, but she slowly nodded. "All right then. If you're sure."
"I'm sure," he repeated, pleased. Then he stepped closer, lowering his head to whisper, "Besides, even if I was still angry at you, it would be impossible now with the way you look tonight."
Hal grew unexpectedly shy, dropping her gaze as she bit down on her lower lip to hide her smile. "Merida and Juliet said you would like it."
"Indeed, I do. Very much. In fact, I admit your attire tonight inspires all the ways in which I wish to take it off you."
Hal's eyes widened as she immediately looked around to make sure no one had been close enough to overhear. "Have you no shame, Morzansson?" she hissed, trying not to laugh.
He leaned down and pressed his lips to her ear. "I can't stop thinking about when I will get to have you, iet dunei. You continue to tempt me in the cruelest possible way."
And then he quickly and subtly nipped on her earlobe before pulling back, his eyes shining at his own boldness. But he couldn't whisk her out of the room, so it would have to do. And the spark in her eyes at his teasing was almost better. As quickly as it had appeared, however, it soon vanished as she caught something over his shoulder. She turned her face away, looking embarrassed and annoyed.
"Everyone's staring at us," she muttered.
He hesitated before slowly turning to look over his shoulder. Sure enough, a few of the nearby nobles were watching, eyes narrowed as if they could glean information based on mannerisms alone. "How could they not?" he said, turning back to Hal with a playful smirk. "The traitor and the most beautiful woman in the room —"
"Rider, be serious!"
"I am," he laughed, unsure as to why he did not feel nearly as bothered. Hal's presence truly was magical if she were all it took to calm his nerves so significantly. "Besides, we are supposed to convince them we're in love."
"I know." She bit nervously on her lip. "I suppose it just feels rather performative. I don't know if I'm being too showy or not showy enough. It feels impossible to act natural because everyone is aware of why I'm even here."
He winced. "I imagine they told you this directly?"
"Very colorfully, I might add. Some I could tell were interested merely for gossiping purposes, and a few even asked a few genuine questions about working with her majesty. But the rest were brutal and honest in their opinions of us." She looked up at him through her lashes, her gaze empathetic. "I don't know how you endured such talk all your life. It's awful."
He reached up to brush his knuckle across her cheek. "Sadly, you simply learn to ignore it. But I was never truly alone. Having you here now has made all the difference. I feel stronger when you're close. Braver."
"I'm glad to hear you say that because some days I feel anything but. It's been better, and I know it could be worse, I do…"
"But it's not home," Murtagh finished knowingly, his eyes gentle with understanding. Hal nodded, looking ashamed. "Why do you look so upset, iet dunei?"
"Well, when I was outside with Roran, I may have mentioned how much I've disliked being here. I was afraid to admit it to you because I didn't want you to blame yourself when you've done absolutely nothing wrong. But the way we've been treated, even tonight…"
He understood what she meant. When you spend a lifetime, like he had, growing accustomed to the sideways glances and the mumbled threats and insults, you learn to shut it out. Perhaps not fully, but enough to live semblance of a life. However, when you grow up as one should, surrounded by people who love and respect you, suddenly being exposed to the cruelty of man would be shocking to anyone. Just like the Tenari and their kindness was a shock to Murtagh and Thorn.
"I hate that you've had to endure what you have," he told her, choosing his words carefully and very much aware of his desire to apologize. But he didn't want to make her feel worse about her feelings. "And I certainly don't want us to remain here longer than necessary. Nasuada is taking the threat against Thea seriously. Hopefully we can finish this business quickly and be on our way."
"Will it be that easy with your fealty?"
He opened his mouth then realized he didn't actually know. "We'll make it work when the time comes. Things might be hectic in the beginning, but there are already riders in training under Eragon's tutelage. In time, they'll be able to help carry the load so it does not rest solely on Thorn and I's shoulders."
"That would certainly be nice. But it is too stressful to think that far ahead. I'd rather make it through tonight at least and then perhaps we can worry about your duties."
"Yes, my darling." Hal grinned as he leaned forward to kiss her forehead, wishing deeply that they were alone in a room right now.
Suddenly, Albriech appeared at Hal's elbow with an apologetic look. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but Roran is trying to get your attention."
Murtagh and Hal looked over in surprise and saw that Roran was, indeed, waving them over, his expression grave. At the private entrance, Arya, Orik, and Orrin were seen leaving the room. Upon a quick glance around the room, Murtagh saw that Nasuada was already gone.
"Is everything all right?" Hal asked, Albriech and Baldor keeping tight behind her. Murtagh was grateful because his immediate concern was that there was a threat. If they had moved Nasuada —
Roran didn't answer at first, simply gesturing for them all to follow. Only when they were in the secret tunnel, alone and away from prying ears, did he speak, his voice grave. "A soldier arrived not long ago with an urgent request from Teirm. A swarm of Ra'zac have appeared, and apparently the Shade you warned us about was spotted as well. The city is under attack and requesting immediate assistance."