Anthony was the point upon which my world turned. He redefined for me what it meant to be alive. When I lost him, I temporarily lost my balance. He'd held my hand out to the very precipice but, without his guidance, the world fell away to only the fear of falling. I felt unmoored and stagnant; without direction or courage. But the world was still shifting on, drifting ever closer to disaster.


I lay buried in my blankets, blinking up at the bed canopy.

In truth, I hadn't seen much besides that view in days. I refused to rise for anything, even as an increasing horde of servants goaded, coaxed, simpered, and wheedled all around me. Finally, I did sit up, but only to order them out with many hurled objects and obscenities. If Madame Tutor had anything to say on the subject, she at least displayed enough tact to withhold it for the time being. So I had remained, with only my youngest servant hanging around to make sure I ate and drank.

I could hear little Harold in the hall outside the main chamber, arguing obstinately with some retainer. Rather, I could hear the attendant's responses, as with each pause his emission gained speed and volume. "I don't give the slightest shred of a damn what you were told! I'm telling you now that His Majesty demands -"

"I only serve the princess and she won't see anyone," There was Harold, cutting across the whiner with a voice that sounded like it belonged to a young man rather than a ten-year-old boy. "She won't change her mind for a loudmouth trying to come into her room without her permission. If the king needs her, he has to come himself."

The vassal stumbled through a foul-mouthed retort, oaths of reparations on his trembling lips. The sound of his stomping steps overrode his bitching. A door latch clicked as Harold reentered my room. He walked past the little sitting area and into the bed chamber, shutting the double doors behind him.

"He's coming, isn't he?" I asked with a resigned groan.

The boy lifted his shoulders in a helpless shrug.

"It's alright. You did your best." I swung my legs out of the bed and groaned as my head spun.

"M'lady, please…" he was there, slippers in one hand and a glass of water in the other, "Slowly."

I obeyed his calm words, taking the glass and lifting my feet to make his task easier. "I hope you're not worried about me?" I swished the water.

His look was positively disparaging. "You've been abed for three days. I would have to be stupid not to worry." He bent his head back to his task, looking again like any other child. Despite his age, he possessed a level head and polite attitude that made him the only tolerable presence left out of all of my retainers.

I tried to smile, but judging by his reaction it came out as more of a grimace, "You talk like an old lady."

"My grandma raised me." He didn't bat an eyelash at my jab, and I realized with a touch of guilt that he probably heard such comments all too often.

"She did a good job," I added firmly. He glanced up, eyes glinting with pride and gave me a confident nod. Who am I to judge? I'm starting to talk like an old person myself.

Don't do it too often, or before long you'll sound like Siyamak , Katana quickly slid in. She had mostly stayed quiet the past few days, but her silent support was the only reason things hadn't gotten much worse. Or maybe you would sound more like Eltereth .

Eltereth isn't all that old! She's younger than most of them.

True enough. Maybe ********…

Katana's mental voice trailed off, almost as if it had encountered a blockade. I'm sorry… I can't recall what we-

You were teasing me , I returned calmly. I recognized the signs of her lapse with a flood of revulsion and sorrow. Though it had only been a few years since the Banishing, it had become apparent to everyone that the situation was far worse than it first appeared. Each of the forsworn's dragons handled it a little differently but they were all in a constant state of pain as, with each passing day, they drifted farther from lucidity. They had become so inconsolable that Katana and Shruikan could no longer dwell with the others.

Teasing you… ah yes, for sounding like a hag .

That's enough out of you! I think I'll be in trouble soon, so I won't be available.

Be safe.

Even as she formed that thought, both doors slammed into their supporting wall hard enough for them to rattle the window panes. Between them, arms crossed and grinning like a savage, stood a familiar man in a dark, rusty red tunic and black trousers. "Time to get up, kiddo." Morzan perched his hands on his waist, pointedly close to Zar'roc's gleaming hilt. "Daddy needs us for a meeting," His tone was cheery enough, but I knew better than to fall for it.

"Us?" I managed to ask, trying in vain to reach for the plush comforter.

Morzan was faster. He flung the duvet to the floor with a flick of his wrist. "Us," he confirmed.

"...Fine. Harold, just a riding dress and some boots, please." My clever attendant finally unfroze and jumped up, gathering my requests.

Morzan turned away as I hurried into the garment but, apparently, he'd been instructed to escort me. His playfulness dropped and he took on a more serious tone, "He's mad enough to spit fire, just so you know. Be careful in there."

"Thanks?" I tightened a sword belt over the deep green kirtle and walked back into his view. I lifted an eyebrow at him as if to ask 'why?'

"You're welcome." He shrugged his massive shoulders. "What's family for?"

I managed my first smile in days.

-:- -:- -:-

Morzan and I were the last pair to enter the chamber. The central table was a heavy dark wood inlaid with curling patterns. Seated around its longer sides were no less than two dozen faces, some familiar and some not, who appeared just as rigid. I desperately wanted to stare at the floor and retreat into a corner, but the King motioned towards a chair near to him. I sat quietly, scanning and measuring the room. Many of the thirteen were present, Morzan, Formorra, and Siyamak sat closest to the front, with Amroth, Idril, and Kialandi hovering around the far side of the room. There was only one possibility for the other attendees then: the masked lords. These men and women were responsible for speaking on behalf of noble families who were not physically present in the capital (particularly those who ruled other large cities).

Shouldn't there be more of them? Katana asked. I recounted the assembly. I knew some of their names, even recognized a family crest or two, but several members were undeniably missing. And, even more telling, every last absent face was from the south.

I snapped out of my musings as a large, round man jumped to his feet, slamming an open palm on the table with thunderous rage. "We've waited long enough!" His shouting caused his precariously placed curly mustache to shake about.

"No one is arguing that point, Belatona," slid in a woman farther down the table. She sat on the same side as me, so without being rude all I could make out was her hands, curled claw-like over the head of her staff. She seemed utterly nonplussed by the man's outburst. "But, as they have committed no aggressive actions and have a substantial means of resistance, it appears wiser to allow them to make the first move. It is hardly appropriate to show a knee-jerk reaction to unsubstantiated whispers." Many lesser nobles nodded. All of them looked nervous, and a little relieved to have a sponsor.

All of them except for Belatona. His face bubbled in rage as he leaned over the table and growled in the lady's face, "Then are you suggesting that we wait for the dogs to bite the feeding hand? I say we withdraw that hand, and let the bitches starve!"

The lady seemed more than ready to issue a retort, but she never got the chance.

"Enough." One quiet word returned the rowdy lord to his seat. Every single eye turned to the head of the table, the room breathed more quietly to catch every syllable. The king stood slowly, fingers placed neatly over the map spread before him. "I agree that these rumors grow more damning by the day. I am inclined to believe their growing disquiet is an entity all its own, seperate from our little upstarts to the east. As to their motivation, there can be no question… but the fact remains that we have precious little information on their leadership, tactics, and resources. Any and all reports coming from south of Lake Tudosten are to be considered fallible unless verified by reliable agents. I shall summon the delinquent lords to court, though I doubt any one of them has the spine to obey that call. Their refusal shall be taken as a hostile action. That shall give us all the pretext we need to cut them off. As to openly engaging them, we need to know more about their plans before we may formulate our own. A measly uprising is nothing to us, but a more substantial resistance must be handled…. delicately ." His tender caress of that final word left no illusions of gentleness, especially as his eyes met Morzan's across the room. "I want all attendees to reach out to your networks and report back anything at all, no matter how irrelevant it may seem. Dismissed."

As one, the attending lords and ladies rose and filed out of the room in two orderly lines. "Morzan, Lilleth, remain." I was half out of my seat when I froze, confused but unwilling to ask for clarification.

The room emptied fully and Morzan stretched, plopped himself on top of the table across the map from the king and folded his legs. "Sounds like you need a spy."

His addressee sank back into his seat. "An army of them would be preferable. Still, even one- if they were worth a damn- would be helpful." His quip didn't exactly erase the tension, but it seemed to cheer Morzan up.

"And… are any of them?" the larger man asked, leaning back on his palms, "Worth a damn, I mean."

"If they were, would we be in this situation? No, all of our decent agents are busy chasing Brom's dustrails through the wilderness. It seems your rival's efforts were adroitly placed to misuse our resources. And he appears to have succeeded."

"For now," growled Morzan. I swallowed and instinctively leaned back from the look on his face, torn apart with hate. I knew that the rebel and he had been close before the fall, but apparently all those bonds had only made his determination to finish their little rivalry more intense.

The king nodded his acknowledgment. "I would send one of the thirteen, but-"

"They stick out." Morzan finished easily. "Formorra's the best sneak, but she's a little too infamous and noticeable. Not to mention busy right now, dealing with whatever nonsense is happening in Teirm-"

"Business." Galbatorix shrugged and grinned back at his friend.

"With business," Morzan corrected. "Most of the others are useless for this kind of thing. The twins would have been perfect, but-"

"But that isn't an option." No one had to elaborate further. After Gildor's death, Gelmir had been all but unreachable. He still spent most days in bed, and when he did rise it was only to stare drunkenly at the nearest reflective surface.

"I could go." Even I wasn't expecting the voice that broke the brooding silence: my own!

"That's exactly what I was thinking," Morzan grinned wolfishly down at me.

"No." Something in the man's dark eyes had hardened suddenly into brutal warning. I felt very foolish for speaking at all.

"Why not?" Morzan challenged, "She doesn't do anything useful here, we trained her so we know she can handle herself, and she'd be pretty much useless as a soldier if it does come to war. Why not a spy?"

"She is the heir apparent, and still not out of her training."

"Don't die till she comes back," Morzan offered helpfully, "and neither were half of us when we joined you."

That seemed to sway Galbatorix, if only a little. "But can you do this?" Finally he turned to me, the first time he'd looked directly at me since that dreadful day.

I desperately wanted to shrink down and disappear, to collapse back into my bed. But something about his face seemed to be almost… challenging me? Yes, there was an element of challenge here. I sat up straight and stared him down. "Yes, I can." To the side, Morzan clapped triumphantly. I thought, for just a second, the corner of the king's mouth twitched.

"Very well. You will leave before sunrise. We will put about the rumor that you are once again bedridden from…" he searched around for the right word, "...shock. Your task is to journey south and collect as many rumors as you can on the journey. When you reach the outskirts of Melian, you will contact me directly via scrying mirror and we will assess. Katana will remain here."

I understood his order, even as I hated it. Are you still listening?

Of course. Her mental voice was soothing, if sad. I will be here when you return. It won't seem so long.

Katana's bolstering words hardened my resolve. I nodded and stood. "Then I need to pack."

He flicked a finger in dismissal. As my hand hit the door, his voice cut back through my thoughts, "Do not fail me." His tone was frigid. I understood that he was issuing my last chance to prove I could be useful. My last chance to earn his "mercy". I swallowed hard and all but ran back to my room.

-:- -:- -:-

I left in the dark tumult of a gathering storm. The tunnels ferried me out past the city limits. Once I set foot on the trail, I reeled from the unexpected anxiety. I was alone for the first time in so many years. I suddenly felt like jumping or sprinting off into the swaying fields or screaming until my throat was raw. I wanted to cry, or maybe just to lay down and stare endlessly at the swirling clouds fraught through with silvery lightning.

I wanted Anthony to be there, holding my hand.

I set a brutal pace to the southwest and away, away, away from the darkness.


I have absolutely no idea why I thought volunteering was a good idea. More than anything, I just wanted to be away from that place. I think Galbatorix had similar wants, but these ultimately proved a poor investment.

The days melted together on the road. I slept only briefly each night, determined to be on my feet and aware should any travelers pass me by, as many did. Once, a noble procession passed by me and I dutifully stood to the side with my head bowed. It felt dangerous and exciting to be so close and yet know with conviction that they could not possibly recognize me, dirt-streaked and sporting a dirty blonde rat's nest instead of ebony braids. I almost felt… free.

This feeling of liberation was unique amongst my fellow travelers. They were all hastily completing treacherous journeys out of desperate necessity. Some were clearly fleeing south to join the gathering unrest. Many felt that the king's actions both in taking and retaining the throne had crossed a line, and it was better to risk death defying such a leader than to risk death serving one. The rest were fleeing from the south, either out of a sense of loyalism (an unpopular but staunchly held belief for many) or a desire to escape the area before the war trampled them underfoot. I had never met so many different people! I listened sympathetically to all comers and accepted their sympathies in return. By and large, the road was easier than it ought to have been. I flatter myself to think that I was skilled and careful but, in truth, it was dumb luck; many careful and brilliant young ladies aren't so fortunate in their travels.

Hardships and dangers aside, I started to enjoy my taste of liberation. I'd never been on my own in my seventeen years of life for more than a few hours. I finally had the opportunity to feel like my own person instead of an extension of Galbatorix. Part of me wonders if this is why he allowed me to undertake the task in the first place… if so, I can't help but feel that he regretted it. Even a mad genius can't predict every little variable, and there was one chip in play that had the potential to throw our lives into chaos a million times over.

The single wagon was less than elegant, but the fact that it was drawn by a pair of well-kept ponies indicated some measure of wealth. The occupants looked miserable and frightened. I nodded politely and stepped to the side but, to my surprise, the driver pulled over. "Well met, stranger!" said a chipper, round man somewhere in his fourth decade. His clothes were plain but high quality, his hair long and wind tossed.

"Well met!" I called back.

"Are you headed south as well?"

I quickly weighed the situation. He was one of only two men, and the ladies with them didn't seem fit for much more than needlepoint. Even if they meant ill, I didn't really think they posed a threat. "In fact I am. Gil'ead has grown a bit too rough for my tastes."

"Still, to be on the road alone? Its inviting disaster!" He seemed genuinely concerned.

"No choice. My family didn't pull through this winter. I took up with an inn… but the more soldiers pour in, the worse it gets. I liked my chances out here better than in there."

"Well said. Have you a name?"

"Marigold Donasdaughter, but I just go by Marie."

"Well, Marie, would you care to share the road with us? It has to be safer than traveling alone, and you can give your feet a rest." He patted the spot next to him.

I pretended to consider. Really, it was the best option since I couldn't well get gossip out of empty air. "I'm headed to Aberon. How long till our paths diverge?"

"It seems that they won't! We're headed there as well… and quickly!" The way he tried to smile, the forced cheer creeping into his tone and the tension in his weak jaw gave me all the explanation I needed. I climbed up into the seat and tucked my pack down between my feet.

"There you are! Welcome to the happy little band. I'm Rorik, this is my enchanting wife Roselin, she's holding our baby boy Ferris and the pair of ladies in the back are our employees Jess and Veronica."

I graciously nodded and waved to everyone, until the very last. I had to turn completely around to see the younger of the two servants, but when I did I almost fell backward out of my seat. In the far left corner of the cart, legs tucked to her chest in a sullen little ball was….. me ? But no, not quite me. She had a more defined, mature figure, a smaller nose, smoother jaw…. But otherwise, the resemblance was truly eerie. Not just eerie I realized as my mind raced back through time and space, connecting the name to a tiny moon-shaped scar on her left cheek, to the slightly uneven lips that could so easily turn into a prize-winning pout….

"Verra?" I blurted before I could stop myself. The girl snapped her eyes up, eyes as dark and deep as a moonless midnight.

"Lilly?"

The man to my side stared at me. His wife seemed equally flummoxed as to why my name had just changed. The only one who seemed to be following along was the older woman, the one he'd named Jess. She sat up from her slouch and stared at me and Veronica in turns.

"How are you here?" She breathed out. Her face was a mess of emotions that I could understand perfectly, but couldn't begin to articulate.

"That's… a really long story."

"I'm sorry, Ms… Lilly, was it?"

I snapped back out of my memories. I looked up into this stranger's kind and confused face, trying to find a balance between "royal intelligence operative" and "country kid". "Yes sir… that was my name when I was younger. My home was destroyed and I was separated from… well from everyone."

"I looked for you!" Verra jumped to her feet, nearly losing her balance as the vehicle swayed. Jess held her steady from the floor. "I spent the whole next day digging through rubble looking for you, but I couldn't find anything! I thought you must've died with Mother. How did you get away? Where did you go?" Her lovely, expressive eyes filled with tears, "Why did you leave me?"

I blinked back at her, not even sure where to begin. "It's… complicated." She looked ready to either embrace me or strangle me, so I rushed through my next few sentences as fast as I could. "The next morning, Riders came. They looked for you, but they didn't find any signs… They took me away and found me a home. When I grew up, I started working in the inn, but then I had to go. I thought," unexpected tears choked me despite all my efforts, "I thought I'd never see you again."

Some odd look crossed her features, it was a brooding grimness, maybe even bitterness? But it passed and she nodded slowly. "That's good… I'm glad you've been safe."

I cringed internally. Safe by what measure… but there was no way I could reveal all right then and there, not if I wanted a chance of reuniting with my only surviving family. "I'm glad too." I switched places with our hostess to settle next to Verra, mimicking her pose.

Jess looking us both over. "You don't look so alike, I think. Maybe a little around the mouth?"

I shrugged. "It's always better to travel in disguise. Once we stop to rest and I can wash all this off, you'll see."

I felt Vera's look tunneling through my flimsy shield and I knew she bought none of it. Her weirdly intense stare, a particularly familiar one at that, gave me no illusions that I could escape confessing everything. So quietly that only an elf's hearing could catch it I hissed, "Soon," before adding a little louder, "So, how did you end up here? I never would've picked you for a handmaid."

She nodded once and settled back. "Me neither. I wandered a bit and I ran into some… rough customers. They dragged me along for a while until I managed to give them the slip in the night. I hooked up with a trading caravan on the road to Teirm. They let me ride along to the city, but by then I was sick and not strong enough to travel. Some of the local street kids brought me to Granny- I never actually learned her name- and she gave me a place to sleep until I was strong again. I was going to just wait for the traders to come back, but winter came first. I got involved with some petty thieves- don't give me that look, I was starving!- well, anyway, they made me sneak into this house, but Jess caught me. Instead of calling the guards she heard me out, got me a job, and trained me. I've been with them about six years now."

I listened to her story with avid attention, digesting her every word, and empathizing with many of them. "Oh, Verra… You must have been terrified."

"Yes." Her voice was level but heavy with emotion as she met my look. Jess patted her shoulder in a maternal gesture. I felt an unintentional pang of jealousy hit me. Her path had in no way been easy, but she seemed to have at least found people along the way she could rely on, who cared for her as part of their own family. I dismissed the thought, angry with myself for being that petty. More than anything, I was overjoyed to see her healthy and with any measure of happiness. She could have just as easily ended up dead on the side of a road at any point in her tale.

Then again, so could I.

For the rest of the day, she told me how the family had come to leave Teirm. They were traders-turned-traitors. They had slowly been metering out supplies to the growing unrest, more out of financial interest than political, but it had been enough for the crown to issue orders for their arrest. They only escaped because one of Rorik's old comrades tipped him off in advance. They fled with whatever they could carry in the dead of night. As far as they knew, their old home was probably ashes now. They hoped the new-founded rebel group would welcome one of their patrons (and, of course, the little bit of wealth they'd managed to smuggle with them). By the time Verra concluded her story, the sun had dipped low in the sky.

"We ought to camp for the night. If the ponies misstep in the dark, we'll be walking the rest of the way to Aberon," Rorik yawned. Everyone agreed drowsily and began to set up camp.

Once everyone had bedded down for the night, Verra walked over to my roll and plunked next to me. "Time," she said coolly.

I opened my mouth to ask her to walk farther off with me, but before I could speak I felt a soft presence at the outskirts of my mind. She branched out less like a searching beam or a dominating field, more like a timidly crawling vine. I brushed a thought against the touch and she physically jumped. Her eyes widened in amazement, her little vine suddenly snapping forward more earnestly. I allowed her to touch my thoughts in a metered way; some things were better said purposefully.

You're like me! Do you know anything about this, or-

It's just a way of talking with your mind. A lot of people can do it, some more easily than others. It seems that we both inherited the talent.

Can anyone learn to speak like this?

I… don't know. I assume so, based on...

Based on what?

Based on what Father has said.

She stared at me, mouth agape and unbreathing.

You… you know…

Please… let me start at the beginning.

And so I told her every detail of the past decade. Pairing with Katana, joining the rebellion, losing Xanist and Anthony, and finally stating in direct terms the name we'd wished all our young lives to know. King Galbatorix, Shur'tugal and Wyrdfell, is our father.

She didn't believe me at first, not until I showed her a series of memoriess that could erase every doubt. For a long time she didn't say anything at all until, finally, she blurted out, We're princesses! The excitement in her thought was childlike, overcome with glee.

I flinched. It isn't that simple-

Isn't it? We can live in the palace and go to balls and meet lords and do whatever we want!

Not quite-

Our father is the king!

Our father is the Usurper, and the one who ordered all of your executions!

That finally seemed to sober her up. Wait… but if all of that is true, then how are you here? Why would you be so close to the border if- I felt the pieces click together in her head. You're going to turn us in!

Of course not! I assured her. Exasperation ate at my patience, but she gave me those puppy-dog eyes and I couldn't hold the feeling. I didn't expect to find you. And, besides, I'm a little curious to see what sort of person can rally this many people to a hopeless cause.

It doesn't have to be hopeless! Verra's thoughts jumped out and clanged through our mental space, What if they had a secret weapon?

Do they have a hoard of dragon eggs?

No, dumbass, us! I can use a little magic, at least I think it's magic anyway, and you're a rider!

The worst rider in the world, I added emphatically.

Besides, you know about the capital, she trampled over my point, You know the king and his servants, you know about their strategies; you could really make a difference!

I don't know... I shoved down the vivid image of the prisoner's line and that rich, uncanny voice echoing "treason" over a jeering crowd. There's no going back from something like that.

Who cares? You said he's a bastard anyway; what do you have to lose?

My first thought was of Katana, trapped in Uru'baen to suffer the king's wrath alone if we were caught. My next was how that dreadful scene could play out from a new perspective: the block stained black and horrible with the countless lives poured out over its surface and with mine about to join them. And then the thought of, somehow, triumphing over my mentor just to face eternity with only myself for company. We'll see.

She quirked her head at me and hesitated for a long moment. You don't have much longer to make a decision. If you haven't left or decided to join us by the time we reach Aberon, then I'll have to tell them the truth.

I blinked at her in shocked outrage. Only her eyes, haunted by so many close calls with tragedy, backed me down. She was speaking as anyone who'd learned to fight tooth and nail to protect themselves would. That I understood. Whichever it will be, I'll let you know first.

She nodded, rose to her feet, and plodded back to her sleeping roll.

I stayed awake the whole night, weighing my two equally impossible choices.


Life with Galbatorix prepared me to be many things at once. I had to be everything he needed and more: rider, royal, and servant. But, in all those years, there was one role I never even attempted to play: myself. To suddenly be confronted by my literal twin… It was jarring in so many different ways.

First and most obviously, I never expected to see Veronica again. My life before the forsworn seemed unreal, more fantasy than any of the fantastical things that followed, and being reunited with a piece of it felt… unnatural. Wonderful, incredible, and heartwarming yes… but also fragile and alien. Second, Verra and I… were not especially close? No, that isn't the best way to think of it; we hadn't even turned seven when we separated. Suffice it to say, Verra always made friends easily while I preferred to be alone. Third, it threw into harsh relief the worst parts of my life. My path gave me abilities and station, but I still lacked…. Purpose? I existed in a very tightly defined role, and the one time I attempted to stray from it I paid a brutal price. That role left no room for ambition, for my voice, for… for personality! Verra suffered in her own way, of that there can be no doubt. Even so, she had retained the freedom to become a complete person while I was no more than a doll for Galbatorix to puppeteer at will. Is it any wonder, then, that I resented life as his toy?

What luck that my dear sister provided me a chance to cut my strings.