Crown of Gladiolus

by Maireh

If Brom had taken Selena and her child (F!Murtagh), and ran to the farthest reaches of the Empire, would they all have been better off? What would Morzan's child had become? Would she be brave and beautiful like Selena, or would she have something of Morzan's cruelness? - Alternate timeline from the Lirouratr Series, and can stand completely on its own (See note inside)

4. Chapter 4

I do not own the Inheritance Series.

I'll continue to edit this over the next few weeks.
This was tough to write, I'm sure that you'll see why. On a side note, there's some fun little insight for those who've read Lirouratr.

Please, let me know your thoughts, and as always, enjoy,

---

Chapter Four
Bearing Tidings of Wolfbane

After nearly a year of remaining in Morzan's company, she was no closer to understanding him than she was when he spirited her away to his castle. There were moments when he was kind and even forthcoming, and then there were times when he seemed unnecessarily cruel. Though often his cruelty was not directed at her, she witnessed enough of it that she knew what to look out for and make herself scarce should he ever turn her way. This shift in him would often happen quickly and without any warning whatsoever causing her to wander if he shared some his dragon's fabled madness.

But there were other times when she wondered if she was the one who was mad and that she imagined these affairs. It seemed possible in her mind that she was imagining much of what she saw or even felt. As if she were grasping in empty for the air at a reality that was not there. That it was more likely that it was a piece of her imagination running wild with hope for familiarity, and perhaps she couldn't trust herself at all.

This often happened after walking in the gardens with Morzan. In those times, she would listen to him talk about his childhood; how his father had been a fisherman who was often away, a few tales of his mother, of her grandmother and how dotted the woman on him throughout his early childhood, of the seafaring town he had lived in until he became a Rider. He never talked about his time within the Order of Riders but rather spoke of the injustices as he saw them and how they impacted him to want to create a change. The war which brought about the downfall of the Dragon Riders was not spoken about at all, and she didn't ask about it thinking that what he had to say would be vastly different than her papa's tales.

Meri wasn't certain what was safe to say to him and what was not so she often said nothing at all. She was afraid that if she said something (or even if she did not) that he might hold it against her as he did with the safety of her mother and siblings. Even so he often seemed to pick up on her thoughts without her saying anything at all, and she began to wonder if he was searching through her mind without her noticing. That the brief lessons she had from her parents on guarding her mind were not enough. Soon she stopped thinking about her family all together whenever he was around and much of the time when he was not just to be safe.

So as Morzan talked, she volunteered little and listened as she looked about the garden, beating in the fresh air. Her walks with him were now the only time she was permitted out of the castle's Keep, and she wished to take full advantage of the outing itself. The gardens were cleverly crafted so that no matter the season, there was always someplace of beauty. Morzan seemed to gravitate towards these places, sitting on benches wherever flowers were in full bloom, and in winter under a small shelter near a frozen pond.

During one of her walks that first autumn, she noticed that the dead rose garden, the one her papa had planted for her mam, was being uprooted and its dirt lay fresh and bare. Over winter it was left empty and as spring came the dirt was removed and the path torn apart, and the empty land was replaced with pale stone. Its new purpose was not volunteered and she didn't want to ask, thinking that it was disservice to the gardens as a whole. The whole process sorrowed her, and she avoided looking towards the area altogether.

Later she saw that a fountain was being placed in its center underneath a structure of metal and glass. Not long after that, a tall stone wall was built around the perimeter and she could see nothing more. Their trips to the gardens became less frequent as well, and she spent nearly all of that late spring within the castle's Keep.

As time passed, and distance lay between her and her former life it became harder it was to think of it as more a memory. She often found that she didn't want to think of that time or her family. That the pain that came with it was almost physical and too much to handle. It was a memory she yearned for but could not reach, and with each passing day it lay further and further away until it seemed unattainable.

There were times she thought that she had imagined her childhood and the freedom she had been given within the forest. That it was all a wonderous dream. So vastly different from the rigid schedule and high expectations of her life now to be but anything else. Meri felt as if she were drifting atop a raft in the stormy sea and had no way to steer. That Morzan, by keeping firm control over her life, was the tempest in her raft's sails directing her each movement. She simply had to go where he directed the current, or be punished for disobedience and left to sink helplessly beneath the lapping waves.

Morzan did not leave the castle during this time, keeping her close beside him, quick to correct any behavior he did not think proper. With this came the expansion of her education, building upon what her parents had taught her. He had been surprised at how little she knew, though she thought herself well read, and brought her to the library, piling books in front of her. Her lessons began that evening and continued after that every afternoon until supper. Most of these contradicted what she had learned throughout her life but anytime she voiced this, her words were shunned. Her questions, something her papa had encouraged, were rejected as well. She quickly learned that his silence meant that she wasn't allowed to speak during these lessons; that she was to listen and memorize and repeat what was spoken but nothing more.

When he was not actively teaching her, she would sit across from him at a table within the library, reading over passages from books about the glory of the King, history, and learning the heraldry of the Courts. At the end of the day, she would have to recite passages aloud from memory. Her mistakes were not meant with anger as she first thought they might be but rather a blink stare and being told to copy down what she did not remember repeatedly on parchment until she could recite it flawlessly.

When there were days that she struggled and could not remember anything, she was returned to her rooms long before supper with orders to continue her education alone. Sometimes she would be there for the remainder of the day until morning but there were times Morzan did not return for her until days later. Though he did not leave her for such a length of time as he had after she had left. Even so Meri hated her rooms with a passion, and soon she began to hate being alone.

Before Morzan had come into her life, the rare moments that she was by herself they had been cherished and something to look forward to. But now her being alone seemed to happen far too often and always seemed to hold an atmosphere of rejection within it. More than that she felt forced to draw closer to him and seek his company. That he was the only true form of company she had. Her time with Pechel in the mornings and evenings were too brief to form anything beyond a shallow acquaintance with the woman, and there was never an opportunity for her to seek company of another. It was rare that she saw the same person twice within the Keep and even rarer that she was able to strike up a conversation with them.

And so, she felt herself withdraw, seeking instead the company of books and her own mind. Never before had she held the camaraderie of her own thoughts as often as she whilst within Greynsi, and now thought it to be dangerous company.

…
…

It was around the time that marked a year since her arrival when Morzan began to leave the castle more often and for long periods of time. He no longer locked her away whenever he left, allowing her free reign of Greynsi once more. This time Meri made no plans to escape. She harbored no illusions that she would get very far before he found her and sealed her within his walls. Nor was she eager to return to having to remain locked away in her rooms when he wasn't there and following him around whenever he was. Morzan held far too much control over her life without her being his shadow.

Even with her freedom, there were a number of rooms that he had forbid her from entering all together, and most of these doors were locked. Trivial places like the gatehouse, the kitchens, or the Great Hall but there were other places that seemed to her as if they were a personal chastisement. What she had being punished for, however, she did not know. There was nothing that she could think of that she had done wrong, and thought that she had behaved as he desired throughout the last months. That she had done everything he asked her to do.

In spite of her best behavior, Meri was not, under any circumstances, to enter the library or the stables or the gardens. She was, however, allowed to keep books in her rooms and the parchment and paints but no quill or ink. Nothing that would allow her write down the stories in her head or her thoughts. Even so she had snatched a long piece of charcoal from the fireplace one evening and, after shaping it with her dinner knife, she wrapped it in a scrap of cloth.

In the evenings, when she was completely alone and certain no one would bother her, she wrote the stories from her childhood as her papa had told them. Her memory wasn't perfect and often she had to make parts of the tales up but it was close enough that when she read over them, she felt some sort of closeness to her family. It was hard to think of them directly, the ache inside of her had grown into a ravenous beast, and so the stories were the only thing she allowed herself. They didn't awaken that desire, at least.

And if Morzan found her stories, she reasoned, written tales were safer than written thoughts. She had learned that lesson sometime during the winter months when she made the mistake of leaving pages laying around. He read every word of them in front of her before returning them without so much of a word. At the time she didn't know what he had been reading and hadn't fought to retrieve them. It was something she vowed to not repeat and stored the pages away behind a tapestry, tucking the, in between loose thread hoping that they were hidden well enough.

Her days fell into an easy, if rather tedious, pattern now; she would wake and allow Peshel to help her get ready for the day before picking up a book and exploring the Keep for a place to read. There were many rooms but most were either locked or empty. She didn't want to sit in the solar rooms as they would be the first place Morzan would likely go to upon his return, and so she searched for somewhere new. Somewhere she would unlikely be found.

One day she found such a place. A ledge in a hallway, high up on the wall and after a few tries she found that if she balanced on a small table, she found that she could reach the edge with her hands and pull herself up. It was a narrow space but there was a small window in the corner, and she pushed herself towards it. The window overlooked the untouched wild land below and she for a long time she sat looking at the grasses, thinking of nothing. There was no birdsong but she could hear the whistle of the wind and feel it's cool fingers from a crack in the glass. Come afternoon, sunlight beamed through the window falling onto her face and warming her. Soon it became her favorite spot and she spent most of her days there reading. Eventually, she moved her writings here as well, thinking that they were safer, and began using the space to write and draw as well.

It had been a mistake to do so.

Nearly a month after Morzan had left, she heard his heavy footsteps from the hallway before. She froze, and as quietly as she could, tucked the pages away in a large book she had brought up. The steps stopped just below her ledge, and she heard a rustling of fabric.

"I hope that by some small chance, that I'm wrong and that you are not up there, Muirgheal," came Morzan's voice. Her heart skipped a beat but she dared not move. She hoped that he would move on, further down the hall so that she sneak onto the ground and down the corridor. It was a lost hope. "Get down this instant!"

She pulled on her slipshoes and moved the edge, looking down to see him watching her. His eyes held within a dangerous light. It something that she had learned to recognize, and that it was best not to provoke him when he held it. From here events could go one of two ways, and she knew where she didn't want it go. Hoping to appease him, she slid from the ledge onto the ground in front of him, and said, "Welcome home, my lord. I've heard no word that you were back. If I had I would have met you before now."

"If I had known that you'd return to acting like a feral animal the moment you left my sight, I would not have left you unattended whilst I was away," he told her cooly. He grabbed her wrist and turned her hands over, examining the smudges of charcoal on her fingertips. When he released her, his eyes flickered to the ledge and back at her. His lip curled as he looked her over to where she had been hiding. She flinched, feeling her heart sank to her feet, and knew that she wouldn't be retrieving her belongings any time soon, if at all. "You're to make yourself presentable and meet me in the solar room. Move quickly, girl! We've guests and it'd be an act of great discourtesy to keep them waiting longer than necessary."

It took her a moment to move away from the ledge, to silently say her farewells to the writings above, and leave for her rooms. Before she turned the corner, she checked behind her to see if Morzan was still there but found that he had moved on. She ran her hand uneasily through her hair and turned away. When she got to her rooms, she found that Pechel was waiting for her.

"Come now, poppet," the woman said, urging her into the center of the room. "It's best not to tally."

"I didn't see the dragon return with him, and I've been keeping an eye out like you suggested." Meri walked over to her and took the damp cloth from her hands, wiping the charcoal from her skin. When the last of the smudges were gone, she added, "When did he get back, do you know?"

Pechel shook her head from within the wardrobe. "No one knows when our lord comes and goes," she said. "It simply happens. You'll want to be better prepared for his return when he leaves next."

Meri rubbed her face hoping get scrub away the smudges. It was usually a task she did before Pechel came to her rooms, and she could only guess at what concussions the woman came up with now. She knew that she was covered in powder from the charcoal, and that it wasn't exactly the cleanest element. "It would help if I had a way to know," she muttered.

The woman didn't seem to have heard her or was ignoring her. "Don't sully your skin. Your youth shall only last so long and you'll regret being harsh when it begins to fade," Pechel rebuked walking over with a samite dress with golden embroidery over the sleeves and neckline. It was one of Meri's least favorites because of how the thread prickled into her skin. Whenever she was able to, she hid the blasted thing but seemingly never well enough. It always had a way of returning to her wardrobe.

"It won't matter if I'm wearing that monstrosity," she bit out, tossing the cloth into an earthen bowl filled with water. Water splashed over the edge onto the small stand. "What do you think would happen if I burned it while no one was watching?"

Pechel took her by the shoulders and turned her around, carefully undoing the pearl buttons on her dress. "You know precisely how our lord would respond." Meri did know, and she wasn't willing to let it come to pass. Still the thought of burning the dress was tempting. Since it was likely to never happen, she thought of a better place to hide it. She was considering tossing it down the privy as she slipped out of her dirtied dress before Pechel could undress her. As the woman helped her into the clean garment, she said, "You've done yourself no favors getting into whatever it is that caused you such disarray. It would be best if you do not to cross our lord anymore this day. He seems to be of a rather precarious disposition since his return."

"He said that there are guests waiting for us in the solar room," Meri told her as the woman finished.

"That's most unusual," she mussed, backing away towards the door. "If that is the case, then it is best we both go. Go! Make haste!" And with that the woman fled the room without looking back.

Meri slipped out of the room with much less haste than Pechel advised, walking slowly towards the solar room. There was no urgency in her steps, and certainly no wish to meet whoever Morzan had intended her to. Far too soon, she came to the room and heard voices chattering from within. She had just figured out that they were talking over news from the southern regions when the door opened and Morzan ushered inside. The conversation continued as she was guided toward the men, and stopped as she was introduced to the two men within the room.

The first man she was introduced to was a brother to a minor noble in the east, and though he held lands of his own, he worked tirelessly with his brother's men. What struck Meri was not the scar that bisected his face but the way he held himself. Strong and bold and controlled. It reminded her of Papa whenever they had traveled into the forest for her training. How he had taught her wield control over more than just blades but her whole body. She thought that if anything, that this man had once been a great warrior.

"Tornac is a great warrior, and I've asked him to work with your swordcraft," said Morzan confirming her thoughts. He looked back at the man and eyed him approvingly. "In his youth, he earned my respect and that is something not many can say they have. I advise that you will treat him with worthy regard whilst he is here."

The other man was younger, a man barely out of boyhood, and held himself with less confidence. She was told that his name was Artair, and that he was Tornac's sister's youngest son. That he had been training beneath the man for as long as he could walk, and would one day take his place within their family's household. Artair said little and his face gave away less but she thought that he wanted to be here as much as she did. His movements were stiff and he sat on his chair as if he were about to bolt from the room within a moment's notice. Both he and his uncle had the same eyes like the color of a robin egg but his were cagey whereas his uncle's were intense.

The men talked for a brief time and, not knowing how to add to the conversation, Meri merely listened. She learned that there was an uprising near the south boarders and that Morzan would soon head that way to quiet the unrest. Whatever conflict there was, she pitied the people who would face the fury that was certain to come. Whether it be from Morzan or The Beast, it would do them no good.

When, at last, talk was done and the visitors left to find rest, Morzan turned to her and signaled that she follow him. Not wanting to cross him again that day, she obeyed. "It has occurred to me that my actions towards you upon your arrival had been unkind," he said, taking her arm in his own. He patted her arm gently. "That perhaps in my enthusiasm of my only child returning to me after so many years away perhaps I have offended you and come across as callous. I wish to make it right these wrongs." He paused here, and guided her down a passageway she had never been before.

Meri pressed her lips together in confusion and glanced at him, thinking that perhaps he had taken ill. Or had too much drink. One was more likely than the other. "Whatever do you mean?" she asked, hoping to get a better idea of what he was referring to. Hoping that the hope that she felt growing within her would not blossom to later be crushed.

"My promises to you still hold strong, do not doubt that I will hold myself to my word should it be needed. I have hopes that it will not," he told her firmly. "I know that you were not raised beneath my roof and forcing to behave as if you were is perhaps not the best course of action. This is why I asked Tornac to come and work with you. I wish for you to be content with your life here, Muirgheal, and you do not seem to be. Perhaps your time mastering the blade will help you find this. I can only assume that you did not carry Aconitum for mere appearances, and that you know how to wield it." He turned and watched her face as he said the name of the sword, inclining his head sightly at the recognition that crossed her features.

"I didn't know that you knew its name," she said softly.

Morzan stopped in front of a polished wood door hidden beneath the shadows of a heavy arch. "I'm the one who gave it to your mother," he told her, unlatching the lock and pushing it open. He guided her through into the sunlight. "And I was simply astounded to see it in the hands of another, nonetheless the hands of a young girl. A child striking great resemblance to my missing wife in her youth. Who, when asked about, my spies have admitted to seeing many times within Ceunon but never as someone who caught their interest due to the man claiming to be her father. A girl who went by another name, and whose family lived in isolation though none could say exactly where. It was enough for me to draw my own conclusions."

They stood now in an open courtyard with a fountain bubbling in its center beneath a glass covering. Along the high walls embordering it was cleverly shaped shrubs but none were very high. There was no other greenery. "And if you were wrong, what would you do then?" she asked, shading her face with her hand. Her eyes had yet to adjust to the harsh sunlight.

Morzan guided her to a stone bench and sat down. "However, I was not wrong, now, was I?" he replied, humor snaking into his voice. She sat down beside him and looked over the heavy stone burying the burnt remains of the rose garden. "You knew exactly who I was and that I was coming for you, and this is why you ran and when you could not, you fought. Your mother was smart to train you as she did with what protentional you hold. It's a shame that that magic is beyond your reach, and that you possess so few of her more unique qualities. I would have liked to see what you could do were it not the case."

Her mam had said something similar to her once but made it clear that she felt differently about the subject. She had almost been relieved that her eldest child would never wield magic even if Meri had not. At the time, she had been disappointed to hear this, to know that she would never glow like colored starlight. But she thought that Morzan was speaking about more than just magic, and that he talking about something else entirely, only she hadn't the faintest idea of what it might be.

"Regardless, you remain my child and as such have talents of your own. I shall be returning Aconitum to you in the morn. The blade will be guarded, and I do not want to hear word of you misusing it," he continued, getting to his feet. He placed his hands behind his back and looked at her piercingly. "This courtyard is for yours use whenever you please however know that the same restrictions as before remain even now. With that in mind, you'll be receiving your belongings from where you've left before the day is done or they will be burned. Don't let me find you in places you don't belong again, do we understand one another, Muirgheal?"

"I understand completely," she muttered, glancing away. She listened as he left the courtyard and shut the door behind him. Confusion stiffed within her and she didn't know what to think of the conversation she had just had. Instead of dwelling on it, she left to gather her belongings before he changed his mind.

When she got to where the ledge was, she found that the table she used to reach the edge was missing. It took her an age to figure out how to get up onto the ledge, and by the time she had her hands were covered in scratches and tore her dress. The tear was small, and would be easy enough to patch. It was a great shame, really.

After she slid to the ground, her dress may have caught beneath her feet ripping it further. If it did, it hadn't been purpose, or so she claimed when Pethel asked about it later. The woman took the dress with her later, she knew that she'd never see it again.

…

That next morning began her lessons with Tornac. It was his idea for them to go to the guards' tower and show her different weapons as well as how to hold them. Many of them she had never seen before but there were a few she knew and needed no instruction with. The feeling of holding the knives, bows, and even an axe were familiar to her and for the first time since arriving at Greynsi, she found some grounding.

"You're no raw beginner," Tornac observed. He had been watching her closely during their time the tower. "I knew you to have some training, yet, now I believe that you've had more training than I initially thought. Lord Morzan could tell me very little of your current skill, and so I must ask how long have you been working on your bladecraft?"

"Long enough that I'm confident that I'll not be poking myself with the sharp parts," Meri supplied, picking up a curved dirk. "I don't have many memories of a time when I wasn't learning something of the arts."

"I assume that your mother taught you. Will she be returning to Greynsi as well?" he asked, leaning against the table.

"With any luck, no," Meri said, feeling the balance of the blade in her palm. She eyed her reflection in the silver of it before turning it over in her hands. "Mam taught me much but she didn't teach me everything she knows. I believe that she wanted to protect me from the worst of the world until I was ready to protect myself." She returned the dirk to the stealth and put it down before glancing at him uneasily. In that moment she wished that she could bolt from the room and return to the Keep To get away from whatever conversation was being had. It was unnerving and she didn't know what she should and shouldn't say. "I know how to use a sword, one and two handed, with and without a second blade. I've never touched a proper shield but once used a knobby piece of wood in place of one. Most of what is here, I've never seen before today but doubt I'll be using them. I don't know what you're looking for by bringing me here…" Her voice trailed off as a set of guards walked past them.

Tornac waited to answer until they had left. "I wanted nothing more than to understand what you were familiar with. And now that I've seen all I need, we can continue elsewhere."

He led her back to the castle proper and to the walled courtyard where Morzan stood near the fountain with Artair, the two of them deep in conversation. They were talking about Tornac's family's estate and the strategic advantages it held. Meri didn't listen to much of it, finding the conversation rather boring and instead walked around the courtyard, overlooking the walls with a frown, returning only when she was called over.

Morzan passed her blade to her as she walked over. "Aconitum as promised," he said. "Wield it well."

Meri drew out the sword and passed her fingers over the shielding on the blade. She wondered how effective it would be if she used it to a club someone over the head. The hilt at least held some advantage there and would be efficient enough. "Thank you, my lord," she muttered, returning it to the sheath.

"I'll be taking my leave and should be gone less than a month. I expect you to keep up on your studies while despite my absence. Do not shelve them this time," said Morzan before turning to Tornac. "You have my gratitude, Tornac, for working with my daughter. Should she give you any trouble, I will see to correcting it upon my return."

"It is my pleasure, Lord," said the swordmaster. "I doubt there will be any misconduct. Muirgheal seems well behaved."

Morzan looked her over critically. "That may be so for the moment," he said, turning back to Tornac and briskly nodded his head. "I will leave you to your lessons Sir Tornac. Until we meet again."

Meri frowned, thinking that they ought to be carrying on about a dog the way they were talking about her as if she were not there. As if she were a child who did not know how to toe the line, and plaster a fake smile. This much she knew, even if Morzan seemed to pretend that she did not. She held her peace until Morzan left and Tornac had her face his nephew when, at last, she was able to act on some of her frustration.

From that day on, Meri found that Tornac's company provided a great relief to the festering tedium that pulsing within Greynsi like a dying heartbeat. While he took her lessons in swordcraft seriously, almost ritualistic, he possessed a liveliness that seemed to her be infectious, and she often found herself feeling lighter when in his presence. Her time with him was something that she would look on, much later in her life, and be grateful for.

Life continued on in this way for nearly two seasons with Morzan becoming an infrequent part of it. She quickly learned what small shifts within the castle heralded his return. They were little things like the way the servants held their shoulders would pause whatever she was doing to put away her writings and artwork where they would stay until his inevitable departure. After one of his leavings, she came into her rooms to find the caged scorpion from his tower. The note he left behind said that it was a gift, but she knew what it really was. It was a reminder.

At first, she would not go near the desk or the creature, but overtime reasoned that so long as it remained behind glass it could not harm her, and even gave it a name. Lord Pinches become her studying companion, listening squatly on its stone, as she reviewed the books she was supposed to read. She found the subjects to be dry but thought that perhaps the creature found it much more interesting than she. If the scorpion did not, it never indicated any differently. Lord Pinches would be, at the least, she concluded, the very best educated scorpion in the whole Empire.

As autumn began to show its colors, her work with Tornac had become more complex. Going well beyond reviewing the basic as the warrior had started, and into deep lessons and scenarios. Meri found some these challenging, such as having defending the fountain from them, but found them to be enjoyable.

As she spent more and more time with the swordmaster and his nephew, she found that a friendship had formed. Where Tornac was firm and gentle in his lessons, Artair was brash and bold but never impolite. He wasn't much older than she was, and before long a friendship formed created from the frequent interaction of the two. Before then, she had never had an association with her peers beyond her siblings, and found it challenging to understand when he was serious and when he was not. And she met his playful mocking with unsmiling insults which seemed to humor him, egging him one.

"You're fight well for being a little birdie in a dress," jeered Artair, "but you're still a waste of my uncle's talent. He'd be better off teaching men who would fight for the honor of their king!"

He had backed her against the fountain and now she stood atop its lip. "Sir Tornac seems to think otherwise," she bit out. "At least I'm not the flea-bitten ninny who seeks to rile my opponent when I'm being beaten."

Artair only smiled at her, before he knocked her from the fountain onto the ground, pointing his blade at her throat. "You were never going to beat me," he told her, though not unkindly, as he backed away. "You throw down your guard too soon, my lady. Keep it up until you have your victory had, not a moment before. It's the move you don't block that kills you." He held out his hands and she took it, letting him help her to her feet. "It really is a shame that you're a girl. You could have made a great warrior."

"That doesn't mean that I can't be." She looked at the graze on her palm, and seeing only a little blood she hid it within her skirts. "You say you're a warrior and I've beaten you before. I can do it again."

"A barefoot warrioress wearing a fine gown is a daunting sight indeed, make no mistake!" Tornac called from his seat. He had been silent throughout the entire lesson, speaking only to throw in an occasional critique. "That's enough talk, you two! I would like to see you go once more. Without the insults, if you would, they do neither of you any favors."

Meri nodded and hit Artair in arm with the side of Aconitum as she walked past him to the other side of the courtyard. She knew that he wasn't wrong, and sparring would be easier without the dress. And here she could not tuck the skirts into her belt as she did in the forest. Tornac had said something about it being improper, and told that he'd see about getting her a modest tunic and boots instead but nothing had ever come of it. She made due by shorting one her dresses with a knife so that was just well above her ankles, and cut a small slit so she could move easier. Tornac looked at her inquisitively but said nothing. Meri didn't see the difference, and thought that her body was still covered between the thick stockings she had found and she that was modest enough.

"I'm ready when you are," she called out, readying herself. "Unless you're afraid of a little girl in a dress!"

From his seat, Tornac sent her a warning glance but said nothing. He would make her do nothing for the cheek besides extra exercises, and she did not mind them. Her delight at being able to do more than mere sit around inside the lifeless stone fortress had yet to wear off. The time she got with the warrior was the only time when she truly felt like she was able to be herself without hindrance.

Artair raised his sword to the sky in answer, walking off to different part of the courtyard. "Have mercy on a poor soul such as myself, my lady!" he called out, nodding at his uncle.

When Tornac gave his signal, they circled each other before Meri made the first move towards him. Artair deflected it, and then lunged at each other. Their swords clashed with a loud clang. They parried and riposted, matching each other's moves each trying to find an opening in the other's defense. He was stronger and more experienced than she, and was backing her again towards the fountain. A thought struck her, and she pretended to stumble, then suddenly lunged forward with a surprise stab. Artair was caught off guard, and tried to parry, but could not and she pointedly held the tip of her blade at his chest.

"I said I'd beat you," she breathed, withdrawing Aconitum and letting it rest at her side. "And I have."

Artair took in a deep breath. "You're a lady of your word," he said, smiling waggishly. "This is one victory out of many to come, my lady, and the next will not so easily won."

Meri gave a curt nod. "We'll have to wait and see," she said determined that she'd win the next one as well. And even if she couldn't get away with the same trick twice, she'd figure something else out.

She looked behind him to Tornac, who had been unusually quiet, and saw that he was no seated on the bench but now stood beside it. Beside him stood Morzan, his hand resting the hilt of his sword, talking quietly to the swordmaster. Their voices murmured off the stone walls around them. How she hadn't heard it before then, she did not know.

Cold washed over and she took in a quick breath, as she hurried away to the where she had discarded her shoes and slipped them on. Meri took another breath, this one to calm her racing heart, and slowly made her way over to the men. Artair had joined them now, and raised an eyebrow at her when she approached. She glanced up at him and away, sheathing her sword and setting it on the bench.

The men were talking about the match, the parts of her swordsmanship that needed improving, and her strengths. She said nothing nor was she invited to. Before then, Morzan had kept his distance from the courtyard and these lessons, speaking only in private with Tornac elsewhere, and she wished that he had continued to keep the distance. Now that peace she had felt was shattered, and she stood waiting for it to return. It did not.

"You look well, my daughter," Morzan greeted pleasantly when the talk came to a close, and Tornac left with his nephew. "It seems that I was correct about your skills. You held your ground well enough despite your disadvantages." He glanced over her briefly, his mouth twisted into a scowl. "You need proper clothing if these lessons are going to continue. I'll have Pethel bring you a set that you may use temporary until something better is made. When you receive them, have those rags burned."

Meri frowned but quietly said, "Thank you, my lord. I didn't know that you'd be joining us today. Have you only just returned?"

"I returned late in the night and will be leaving come morning," he informed her, and then seated himself on the bench. "When I leave, you'll be coming with me. There is a place I wish to take you. I believe that you are now well prepared for such an excursion, and that it will do the both of us some good." He paused here, and glanced about the courtyard. "Everything you need will be packed and ready for you and you need to bring only yourself. I'll meet you in the Solar come morning when you usually would come for your lessons with Sir Tornac. Until then I have other matters to attend to."

She nodded and stepped away, hearing the clear dismissal in his tone. Where ever they were going, he wouldn't say until a later time and she did not want to push him, not if she was going to spend an unknown time in his presence once more. The only thing she knew about this trip was that he wouldn't be taking her the capital as it was a place, he had repeatedly told her she was not ready to go to. That she would not yet be for years to come.

…
…

The Beast flew them northward towards great grasslands and landed sometime in the evening, far enough from a town that they would not be seen. Morzan said that they remain there over night before continued to Yazuac where he had horses waiting for them, and there they would travel deep into Palancar Valley to her mother's town of birth. He wanted to her learn more of her mother's history and see where the woman had been from.

That night, after they had set up camp, he told her a little more about her, details of her life that she had never heard. It seemed to her that he knew more of her parents' pasts than she did, and listened as she watched the stars. In the year that passed, they had not changed, even if she had. They at least were steadfast in their eternalness.

"Do you know the stories of the constellations?" she asked sometime after he had finished.

"I do," he answered, leaning back onto a boulder. "I learned their tales the same time Brom did. If you recall me telling you, he was once a Rider and we had the same master. He always had his head stuck in stories, seems little has changed, and that he taught you well."

Meri frowned, unsure what exactly he meant. "There's a beauty in stories," she said, "and histories, and lessons. They preserve what otherwise would be lost to time."

"For children, perhaps, they are useful. You, however, are no longer young enough to be off woolgathering," he told her solemnly. "There are better ways to use your time. You will only be alive for so long, and time passes by quickly."

She disagreed but said nothing for a long time but found that she wasn't ready to listen to only the night's music. "Will you tell me what you know about Brom?" she asked tentatively. "He rarely shared much about his past with us, and I'd like to know."

"If I remember correctly, he was the youngest child from an affluent family of illusionaries that lived somewhere on the coast. Until he was chosen by his dragon to be a Rider, he was being trained to work within his family business as was customary. Brom is but a few years younger than I and we learned much together but were never peers. He thought he was better than me, always muddling in my affairs," said Morzan, his face darkening in the shadows. "When his dragon was killed, he blamed me for it, chasing after me for years. Going so far in his revenge to break into my home to steal my wife and child from me. He may have treated you well, Muirgheal, but you're not his daughter and he cannot truly love you. His heart is twisted in vengeance and drips into his veins like poison, sullying his actions. Everything he did was done to get to me. You best remember that."

"That's not true!" she denied. "You're lying!"

"If I was lying then why haven't I heard word that he's looking for you?" Morzan calmly said switching to the Ancient Language. He frowned at her, realizing that she understood his words. Until that moment, she had denied her knowledge of the tongue but had forgotten to in that moment. "Why do you think that he was so intent on training you in the ways of the blade? To teach you to fight at such a young and critical age? Brom was rearing you to be his weapon. It would have been his greatest revenge. As a father, I'm willing to bet that he knows that nothing would break one's heart more than to have their own child fight against them so vehemently."

Meri shook her head, backing away from him. "No, no," she repeated. "You're lying! Wicked people lie! Papa would never- He would never do that! He said- he said-" Her voice broke, and she found that she couldn't quite recall what he had said.

Morzan turned away, his face pained. "I know the truth cannot be easy to accept, my child. It saddens me to see how much of a hold he has over you even now, and how it is hurting you. If there was anything I could change it would be that."

"You're lying," she repeated but weaker now as if she were doubting it the words she spoke.

"How can I lie to you in a language that binds one's tongue to truth?" he argued. The fire between them flared to life, crackling on open air. "I know of no such ways and speak no falsehoods. I've no reason to lie to you. There is little that I could gain, and you're not so special that I would force a loyalty." Morzan pushed a piece of wood deeper into the flames with his foot. "It will be up to you to choose the beliefs you shall align yourself but as your father, it my duty to guide that choice so that it chosen wisely. You are my child, my only child, and as such, I only want what is best." He paused and righted himself, leaning against his knee. His face highlights from the glow of the fire. "While it is true that I have made mistakes with you and I will admit to them but I have not harmed you. Can you name a single time I've raised my hand to you and dealt harm to you whilst your stay with me?"

Meri stared at him, her eyes watering but said nothing. She could not. Morzan may have punished her but never had he truly hurt her. Not in her living memory. Papa had said that her true father gave her the scar on her back but how could she be certain? She held no memory it. At worst that Morzan would send her away or shout when his temper became too great. When she had pushed him too far and he broke. Those times though they seemed cruel were, as he said, her own fault.

"Everything I've done was done for your own good, Muirgheal," he told her. "It's all been for you."

She tore her eyes away and walked over the horses where she stood for a very long time. Her mind was torn but not as much as her heart. For the first time in her life, she didn't know what the truth was and uncertainty began to take root.

…

They rode for just over a week over the endless plains before they saw any sign of the town at it's northern banks in the distance. At the sight of the smoke in the distance, Morzan pulled his horse rode off the side of the rode and pulled his horse to a stop. There they dismounted, and he turned to her, looking her over.

"You cannot go on looking as you do," he told her, brushing her braid over her shoulder. "Neither of us can. This is a backwater town and going in as we are now will only rouse supposition. I'm going to enchant your appearance and while I do, it will do you well to come up with an alias. You're quite skilled at creating stories, I'm sure."

Meri nodded, looking around him at the towers of smoke. "Before you do, promise me that you'll change me back before we return to Greynsi," she said and then turned to him and narrowed her eyes. "Not in Trade but the Ancient Language. I want the promise to count for something."

Morzan smirked briefly and did as she asked before continuing on to shift her appearance. When he was done, he gave her an examining look and nodded. "I've changed nothing major just enough that if one would see you, they would not think it you," he told her, pulling the cloth tie from her braid and tugging on it. "So, tell me, who will you be these next few days?"

Meri glanced down at her hair, studying how it shone golden in the sunlight, and began to unravel the braid. She thought of Tessie. "My name is Fiora," she said softly, having decided to humor him. "I'm the daughter of Mervyn and his wife Dara. My mother died during the spring flooding in the south. We're traveling north to where my father's brother lives to start over."

Morzan nodded and shifted through his bags, pulling out a roughly spun dress and handed it to her. It was similar to the style that she had seen the women wear in Greynsi. After telling her to change, he turned away and enchanted his own appearance so that it was comparable to hers, and after changing clothes, he tied back his hair. "You had little trouble creating a reason for our traveling through the region. Your ridiculous storytellings have some benefit, it seems," he told her, mounting the horse. "There isn't much beyond Carvahall. It's a dead-end town with little prospects, and the people are much the same. The fact that I found a woman such as your mother here, should have been impossible. I suspect her family came from elsewhere and that the truth of how they ended up in such a place than is forever unknown. I have theories, of course, but nothing verifiable."

"What are your theories?" asked Meri carefully. Now that he had begun to answer more of her inquiries, she began to question him more, and learn as much as she could about his mind worked. In the end it would bring her one step closer to her goal. But beyond that, she was curious. She knew precious little about her mam's family. Only that Mam had an older brother who was alive and everyone else had died years ago.

"Perhaps another time," he said beginning to ride ahead. "There are other subjects I wish to speak with you about but not while we're on open road." And with that whatever conversation they were having had come a close.

Morzan volunteered nothing more, and Meri knew better than to pressure him for answers. That it wouldn't end well if she did. For a moment she wondered what he would do out here in the wild where he had no place to send her but decided that she didn't want to find out. It was likely that he'd make her get down and run to keep up with him or she'd miss supper that evening. And her body hurt enough as it was from the riding so she kept her mouth shut, and looked over the landscape.

It occurred to her then how very close she was to Ceunon. That if she rode hard, she would be there within a week and at the cabin three days after that. And with The Beast so far away from its master, Morzan would have a harder time pursuing and catching her. If this was a step she took, it'd have to be taken without much preparation should Morzan start to suspect that she was up to something. It was too convenient of an opportunity, she thought, and should she fail to escape, again, she'd pay for it a hundred times over and so likely would those she loved. Meri took this thought and set it aside for later. For when she could decide if the risk was worth the reward. But if she didn't act soon after a whole year, then when? She didn't desire to remain in Morzan's grasp for forever.

…

They arrived at Carvahall sometime that afternoon, and paid for a small room with wood framed beds. Despite the town's isolation, it was not uncommon for there to be visitors whether they be traders or hunter who were daring enough to brave the mountains or, at times though it was more uncommon, simple travelers.

Morzan permitted her to be able to walk about the town freely, so long as she swore to remain within town proper and talk to no one. Meri agreed to this, if only because she did not wish to remain locked away in the small room for the rest of the day, not when he was going to leave for the remainder of the day and she'd be alone with nothing to do regardless.

After she gave her word, in the Ancient Language per his terms, she walked about the town, observing the villagers of her mother's birth place. She wished that she could speak to them and learn more but knew that she could not, that her promise held true weight and no words would come even if she tried. Even so, she learned some about the village by listening and watching, and thought them to be simple but kindly folk, not too different from the those within Ceunon. True homesickness washed over her as the day carried on.

When time came for Morzan's return, she waited outside the dingy inn until he came sometime later than he promised, and they went straight to the room. He left momentarily to order them supper and upon his return, he told her that they would go for a ride together in the morning.

"Quiet girl you have there," said the innkeeper. "Me wife's seen her wondering town all day, and swore she's said not a word to anyone."

"Fiora means not to offend by her silence. There are some who find the silence unnerving but it can't be helped, she's not made a sound a single day in her life," Morzan told him.

Meri shot him a narrow look, annoyed that her silence had become a sentence whist her stay here. She hoped to be able to speak to others than just him over this trip, to learn about the lay of the land and the quick route to Ceunon. If she spoke now, it would rise alarms and Morzan would quickly hear of it.

…

The next morning, they early and saddled the horses, and rode out far beyond the reaches of Carvahall, to an overgrown valley riddled with crumbling charred buildings. This had been her grandfather's land, Morzan informed her, and Meri looked around at the mass of wildflowers and weeds, remembering that her mam said it was once a large farm with a barn, a cobbler's shed, and a small home. She said that she had grown up in there in that meadow surrounded by the great stone mountains but now there was nothing of that home left.

Meri wondered what it had been like for her mam to leave this place. To walk away from the only home she had known and to have done so willingly. Had she looked around the valley as if trying to imprint it into her memory, knowing that she'd never return, or left without any stirring of sadness, eager to the new life she was about to walk into? If she had known that it would have burnt to the ground and abandoned, would she still have left with Morzan?

She had asked her mam once what her childhood home had been like but her mother hadn't said much, and now Meri thought she understood a little of that. When she tried to write what the cabin in the forest had been like, she only had a simple description. For how could one tell of a place that had rooted its place within one's heart with such joy and loss and comfort? How did someone put memories into words accurate enough that they could be felt through the empty air? Sometimes there were not enough words nor enough poems nor tales that accurately create the picture of the places of someone's heart.

"There's nothing left," she said aloud, turning to Morzan. "I don't understand why you brought me to field filled with nothing but ash."

"I thought you might want to see what little heritage you have from your mother. These lands were passed down through generations for well over a hundred years. It is a legacy of drudgery and calamity following disaster. After wildfires ravaged the area, your uncle abandoned them and I put in my bid, buying them for well over what they're worth. Your uncle had since moved with his son further north, just beyond the borders of the region," he told her, settling himself against a crumbled stone wall. "It's my hope to build something here but I have not decided what would be fitting. I'm open to suggestions should you have any."

Meri frowned. For Morzan to have a hold this far north, in a place where there was little advantage beyond being so close to her mam's family was troubling. She thought that, for the moment, so long as the lands remained bare, there would be nothing to hold him here.

"I have no suggestions," she said softly, looking at the mountains in wonder. She had never seen anything like them, not that she could remember. "There's little here beyond that town, like you said. Wouldn't it better to sell the land to a local who could use it?"

To this he said nothing, after a short time, they rode away further from the town. It took her some time to realize that he was guiding her to a small homestead. As they drew closer, he dismounted his horse and told her to do the same, and walked to the crest of the hill, hidden between the trees. From where she stood, she could plainly see the people in the field, and took in a sudden breath.

She knew without a doubt who they were. Had it been years instead of a single season cycle she would still know the unbending back of her mam. Her mam who now had a young babe on her hip and was overlooking the harvesting with a critical eye. It was a look that told her that every piece of produce was being calculated for what would be needed over the winter months, how long it would last in storage, and what could be sold for profit along with the however much cheese and butter had been made.

For a moment, however brief that moment was, she felt as if she had stepped through time and had returned to the cabin within the forest but when she went to step forward, something firmly held her in place. She hadn't even noticed when Morzan stepped behind her or when he had placed his hands on her shoulders. Holding her in his iron hard grip.

"We will go no further without running the risk of disrupting the wards. I won't act against while we are here unless you tell me to," he whispered into her ear. He was speaking in the Ancient Language, binding his actions to his words. "We're only here to watch and talk. I have a proposition for you."

Meri couldn't take her eyes off of the people in the field, and quickly found both Elida and Conan. Both had grown since she last saw them. Even from the distance, she could see that. "Proposition?" she breathed slowly. "What do you mean?"

"You know what proposition means, don't act a fool. You also know that there will be an exchange, and nothing is without a price. The choice is yours, my child, consider it and choose wisely." His grip on her shoulders tightened as she leaned forward, watching a boy around her age walk out of the barn. Her first thought was that it was Eragon but could easily see that it was not. That his hair was too dark and he was far too board. She waiting until he continued, "I can lift the enchantment on you and we go down there retrieve your mother. She will return with us now and be cared for well. I won't even enact justice, as we both know I could, and no harm shall befall her whilst she is within my care. We could even take the little bastard on her hip, and I'll provide for it as I have you. Think of it, we could be the family we always should have been. There are people here to care for the other children, and I'd be willing to wager that it won't take Brom too long to come for them and whisk them away. To hide them from spying eyes and far from my reach."

"Or?" she dared to ask. She almost didn't want to know.

"Or, we can negotiate where your loyalties lay." He paused here, his hands loosening but even so, she stepped back into his chest. Away from the field and children. Away from her mam. Away from the temptation of running to them. "You promise to swear yourself to me, and I will withdraw my spies and let these people live their live in peace. I won't go searching again. We shall leave and they'll never be the wiser but if you do this, you cannot go to them, Muirgheal. You're no longer their Meri. Their little flower. So, make your choice because I'm only going to give this chance to you once."

The goat bayed from beside Elida, drawing her attention to it. Meri watched as her sister absentmindedly patted the creature between its ears, and went back to her work. She wondered what their life had been like after she was taken. They too had been forced from their forest into the world beyond and she hadn't been part of it. Nor could she be part of it. Not anymore.

She looked over everyone one last time before forcibly tearing her eyes away from them, stepping away from Morzan and the field and all that it held. Never before had she hated someone but she thought then that maybe she hated Morzan. While he may have never raised his hand to her but he was equally as cruel as if he had. It would have been easier if he beat her, she thought, at least then she would know for certainty if she hated him or not. If he had meant to be cruel or not.

Meri pushed past him and went to her horse, looking over the woodland behind them tearfully. "I'm ready to return to Greynsi," she said bleakly. It had been over a year since she last spoke in the Ancient Language but the knowledge of the words hadn't faded from her tongue. "You want me to swear my loyalty to you. That's why you brought me here, isn't it?" His silence was enough of an answer, and she was glad that he wasn't within reach. Had he been, she'd strike him. She wouldn't hold back this time either, instead, she settled on breathing out angerly. "If that's what you want then you can have it but only once we return and you uphold your end of the deal."

Morzan took one last look over the field before emotionlessly stepping beside her. "I want things to be as they should have been," he said, "yet they will never be. Who you should have been has been demolished, Brom ruined you with his meddling."

"He didn't ruin me," she hissed.

"We shall see," he replied tersely. "Once we return to Greynsi, we'll talk further about our exchange and draw out the finer points of what it means."

"Can we go now?" she said, getting onto her horse. From somewhere within the field, there was shout and then laughter. "You've done what to brought me here to do. There's no reason to linger."

Morzan mounted his horse and, beckoning her follow, turned away in reply. As he did, Meri turned back to the farm one last time and watched as Elida, who was now dipping wet, and Conan chased an older boy with buckets. Her mam and the man, someone she thought might be her uncle, were nowhere in sight. She watched until her siblings chucked the water in their buckets at the boy, and there was shriek of laughter as they all ran in opposite directions. Elida took towards the hill where she was hidden, and before she got too close, Meri commanded her horse away. She didn't think that her heart could handle being near any of them. That it would shatter within her chest and splinter her veins, drowning her in her own blood.

…
…

Their return to Greynsi was uneventful. It took them less than a week to return to The Beast and in that time very little happened. In the wake of events in Carvahall, Meri kept her distance from Morzan as much as she possibly could, riding as far behind him as possible. He allowed her to have her distance and kept to his own counsel, not forcing conversation. It was something that she was grateful for because she wasn't ready to speak civilly with him yet. She didn't know she would ever be ready for that, not when she wanted to break his nose again. It was a shame that she wouldn't get away with it, she'd take more pleasure in it now than she had when they first met.

When The Beast landed in the courtyard of Greynsi, Morzan told her stay with him as he took care of dragon but she stood as far away from the creature as possible watching it carefully. Watching how he tenderly ran his hands over The Beast's shining scales as he unstrapped the saddle and set it aside for the servants to put away.

"There's no reason to be afraid of him. Unless he's commanded to, he'll not hurt you," Morzan told her as The Beast strode away into the gardens. Meri watched the swaying tail create a trail in the flowers but said nothing. "That's enough of your sulking, Muirgheal. Come we have work to get done."

His tone offered no room for argument, and she trailed behind him sullenly to his tower. The room had changed not at all since she had last been there, only Sir Pinches cage was missing from the ornate table at the back.

Morzan beckoned her to sit in the chair across the desk as he seated him, and drew out a long page of parchment and began to write. She didn't dare move, the memories of her last visit to this room, fresh on her mind. It occurred to her that this visit now was not so different.

When he finished, sometime later, he slid it over to her from across the desk. "Our written terms, per our agreement," he said. "Everything we've agreed on is on that paper, do take the time to read it over."

She stirred and looked at the paper with contempt. "Do you do the same thing with your men when they give their allegiance?"

"Even if I did, I would not treat you the same as I do them. You shall never be one of my soldiers. I do not think that you take well to such a life," said Morzan lightly. Carefully, she picked it up off the desk and looked over his neat handwriting as he folded his hands atop his desk and leaned forward in a serious manner. "My terms are simple, as you can see, I merely want your loyalty. This means you will have freedoms within the castle denied to you before now but you will work with me as I see fit. You will give up planning to leave Greynsi, and if you do depart it will be because I command for it or you were forced. I doubt the former will happen but should it, you'll fight to remain and, if taken, to return to me. In exchange, I'll withdraw my spies from Palancar Valley, and leave your mother and her bastard children alone. For as long they remain no threat, I shall not seek them out. Should either of us break our word, the terms are molt. It's reasonable enough, is it not?"

"Why would you care to make an exchange at all? I thought you'd just take what you please and be done with it."

"And run the risk of your heart changing and the oaths breaking? No, I've learned that lesson." He stood and walked to the bookshelf looking over several scrolls and books. As he pulled a particularly thick one out, he continued, "Your mother was my greatest prize and asset. She showed me what could be done if I was willing but she left. And when she did, it fractured my domination, my household, and a part of myself. It took me years to realize that I had been too harsh with her thus pushing her further and further away. This is not a mistake I'll make again," he said and stood, walking to the bookshelf behind her. She turned to watch him as he ran his fingers over the scrolls and tomes. "I don't except you to live up to her, no single person could, and as I've said before, you possess not her talents. Nonetheless, you should know what I'm sacrificing releasing her completely from my sights."

Morzan returned with a set of scrolls and placed them on the desk in front of her, watching as she studied the wax seals. "You say her talents," Meri began softly, "and I think that you're speaking of more than just her ability to wield magic."

"That's because I am," he told her, seating himself in his chair. "I could house a hundred magicians and they could never compare. Magic without a proper mind to wield it properly renders it a blunt tool. Useful but not as effective." He gestured to the scrolls. "Within those scrolls you'll find much of your mother's research. I'd like you to read through them and tell me what you think those talents might be. She was not always the doting woman you know her as but something more. Something much greater. Believe me when I say that I am forfeiting more on our little arrangement than you."

"I don't see how," said Meri, her voice shaking. She looked away, her previous anger at him resurfacing. This time she could not hold it back. "I didn't see how any of this fair! Taking me there to see my family and telling me to make a choice when there was no real choice at all! All I ever wanted was to live my life as I had before but you've taken everyone I love and thrown it in face again and again! Its cruel!"

Morzan's face twitched. "You will be quiet-"

"Or what, you'll banish me to my rooms for a lifetime, again?" she interrupted, now on her feet. "Forbid me from half the castle and tell those living within that they're not to talk to me? Keep me beside you at every waking moment as if I were a dog until I decide to behave? Because if so, do it! You've done it all before, do it again! I don't care!"

His face went blank, his hands clenching and unclutching. Slowly, he took a decanter from atop his desk and poured it into a goblet, taking a long and steady sip. "You are acting like a child," he said, his voice flat. He roughly placed the empty goblet on the desk. "I hoped that we were past this behavior but should have expected otherwise. You've done well enough until now, at the very least, so I will forgive this outburst." He poured himself another goblet full, and the sour smell of hard liquor filled the air. "I'm not unaware that you were raised by the man who swore me his enemy, and even in his abandonment of you, that you still see him as your father. In your eyes, giving your loyalty to me, to your actual father, is a sacrifice that seems too great."

"That's because it is," she bit out. "You can make me swear my loyalty to you until I'm blue in the face but you'll never earn it. It will never truly be yours!"

He stood so suddenly that his chair fell over as he backed away from her, his hands clasped behind his back. His face twitched once more before falling back into an emotionless mask, "You're upset with me for taking you there and showing you the truth, are you not? That's what this is truly about; my showing you that your alleged family doesn't need you there. You saw just as I had, they have moved on with their lives without you," he said echoing her thoughts from when she saw them in her uncle's field. Meri felt her eyes burn and turned away, fighting back tears. "Muirgheal, my daughter, it's time for you to get over yourself and do the same."

She grabbed the scrolls and hurriedly descended the stairs of the tower before he anything more. Before she was dismissed. It was an act she knew she would pay for later but at the time she needed to get away from him before the tears fell. Before she did something she'd truly regret, and make true on her want to harm him.

When she got to her rooms, she allowed herself to cry in full only calming when no more tears would come, and sat in a daze, not allowing herself to think. She was afraid of what thoughts might come, if she did. After a time, she picked up the parchment and scrolls that had been tossed on beside Lord Pinch. She spread them out on the rug, and looked them over. That night she did not sleep but read over what was written. At first to distract herself but found that she could set them aside. The more she read, the more she felt ill rather it was concern or disgust, she did not know.

Meri wouldn't have believed that the words written there were from the same hand that soothed her greatest troubles but the handwriting did not lie. A knot formed in her belly and no matter how she tried to soothe it out, it remained there for many weeks to come.

…
…

Tornac's lessons continued on as they always had, far too early in morning to be considered permissible. The only difference now was that she no longer restricted to any part of the castle and could roam the grounds freely. This gave the old swordmaster the opportunity to take her beyond the inner walls and work in different terrain but, truthfully this was excuse for them to go for walks. Their walks were, as Tornac put it, were what his old bones needed instead of sparring with overzealous youth.

During this time Meri learned about Tornac's own time as an eager youth, and began to understand more and more why Morzan and asked him to work with her. He had accomplished much as a young man, and had learned from the greatest generals the Empire had to offer, at one time, even working alongside Morzan. He gained little recognition for his deeds, however, declining many of the honors bestowed upon him by the urging of his grandfather. Now, it was something he did not regret and got to live a relatively peaceful life, and only came out of retirement at Mozan's urgence.

"I thought that it might be good experience for my nephew," he reasoned. "Here he gets to leave the cushioning of his mother's arms and learn what it means to be an honorable man. It also gives him the opportunity to teach one younger than himself, and relearn many of the lessons he believes he's mastered."

"He thinks me feeble and easily distracted," said Meri bitterly. She looked out over the garden at the trio of golden trees in the distance. Soon those leaves would fall and the limbs of the trees would lay bare waving in the beginnings of the winter's breath. "Does the land here become icy?"

Tornac glanced at her and laughed. "My nephew is correct, my lady, you are easily distracted."

"No, I'm not!" she argued. "I ask only because I want to know if we'll be sparring on ice. I've only done it once with my-" she was about to say that she had sparred on ice with her siblings but stopped herself. It had been during the winter before Eragon left to train with the elves, and while they hadn't gotten far sparring, they had played on the ice for most of that day, seeing who could hit the other person with their stick first. "It doesn't matter anymore. We never got very far."

Meri looked away from him and watched a bird fly overhead as their conversation changed to another subject for a time. All too soon they returned to the keep and went separate ways. Often, she would join Morzan in his tower, to read over letters or documents with him many of which were from his scouts in the far reaches of the Empire, and thought that many of them seemed to be waste of paper. When she voiced this, Morzan said every piece of news held something of importance and instructed her to keep a journal in the tower of what that might be. He taught her what was important from these letters and what was not, as well as what should happen were he not there when something of urgency came up.

During this time, she learned that his agents within the Palancar Valley had withdrawn completely, and when she asked if this was true, he told her in the Ancient Language that it was. And that he now had no way of knowing if her mother was still within Carvahall or if she had moved on elsewhere. Even so, with his side of their agreement held up, he didn't have her swear fealty. Morzan told her that this would come at a later time, after she had finished reading through the scrolls he had given her. His words had unnerved her but as much of the thought of having to read them.

She had avoided her mother's writing since the night she had received them. There was nothing that troubled her more than reading of death and blood and pain. Of the ways people's skin could be torn from their bodies, or how long someone could live without even the basic needs for life. About the different types of poisons and how they ravaged through the body, blackening veins and drawing out the beating heart.

Every time she so much as looked at the scrolls resting on her desk, she wanted to run from the room. The words written there terrified her, more so because of detail they held as if whoever had written them had enjoyed the process of the research. She understood, at least, much of what Morzan wanted her to and it didn't comfort her any. Whoever her mother might have been, Meri was certain that she wouldn't have liked her. Would have hated her even for the malice that had surely lived within her heart, and she wasn't certain how she felt now. All she knew was the woman who wrote these words and her mam were not completely one and the same, and that time had changed her mam until she was unrecognizable. She wondered what had caused such a shift, and if she'd ever be able to ask her.

Eventually, two days after hearing that the valley was free from Morzan's eyes, she forced herself to put up one of the scrolls and continue reading. She thought that she better continue before Morzan changed his mind. That it was likely that it wouldn't take long before he did. Even so, it was slow process as she often had to set the scroll aside and walk away. Far away, into the gardens to sit between the blossoms and look at the stars. She no longer told herself the starlight stories but would occasionally pick out the constellations before returning to her room and dreaded scrolls.

One evening, little over a month after their return from Carvahall, she came up to find Morzan reading through the paper piled atop his desk. It wasn't unusual to see but what was, was the way his fingers were clutched over it, wrinkling it. She went to stand behind him, as she normally did after her training, but he got to his feet and, folding up the paper, he studied her. His eyes were piercing, as if he were looking for something or warning her of something. She wasn't certain which but felt herself go completely still.

"Were you with Tornac just now?" he asked, folding the paper up and slipping it into his sleeve.

"I was," Meri confirmed stiffly. "Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing I did not already know," he said, slowly turning away to the door. "I'm going to ask you to remain here and start without me. You know enough to handle a single day, I'm sure. I'll be back around suppertime to get you. Muirgheal, do know that the door will be locked behind me."

"There's no reason to lock me in." She felt herself go cold at the thought. "I'll stay here if that's what you want-"

"Be silent!" he yelled, and she stumbled away. It had been quite some time since he had last raised his voice at her, and something about it frightened her now. When he spoke next his voice was calm again, even if he did not seem to be. "I'll be back later."

Meri watched as he left, the door closing behind him with a loud click! She took in a shattered breath before taking her seat at the desk. When she looked over the parchment, she saw that most of it had already been read through and hastily placed back on the desk. Whatever had happened to cause Morzan to go into such a state, she did not know, none of the reports indicated anything alarming.

Still, she took her notes and wrote down her thoughts, finding that she finished much sooner than she was used to. Without Morzan there to critique or draw her into long debated discussions, everything got done fairly quickly. She picked out a book from the shelves to read at random hoping to keep herself busy as she waited.

It was late into the night when Morzan returned. He wore a fresh set of clothing and a sour face. Meri was half sleep on the chair when he walked in and wordlessly escorted her to her rooms. She didn't pull him into a conversation either, too tired and hungry to talk much.

When they got to her quarters, he stopped her before she walked in. "I'll be sealing your door tonight so that no one will be able to open it save for me. I don't have the energy to argue with you right now. Know that I have my reasons," he told her, as she opened her mouth. "Tomorrow there will be no sparring. When you wake, I want to continue your studies. I'll come for you before noon and we'll be returning to my tower together to review your work today."

Meri pressed her lips together, and deciding that it wasn't worth the fight, she ducked under his arm and into her rooms. The door shut behind her as the lock bolted home. With heavy eyes, she looked around her room and saw that there was a plate of food on her desk. She walked over and ate what was there before crawling into her bed, too tired to think properly.

When morning came, she wondered over the day before but with nothing better to do, did as she was told and read through the scrolls until Morzan came for her and took her to his tower as promised. Not long after they reviewed her previous day's work, he left returning only after the sun had faded from the sky to return her to her rooms. He would not say why this shift had occurred and remained ill-tempted enough that she did not ask more than once.

Things continued this way, with Morzan becoming more and more absent with each passing day until the morning of the fifth day. That day they did not go his tower but instead, he guided her to a different part of the castle towards where she knew the largest tower stood. It was a part she had explored briefly, in her first days here, and always finding the doors locked quickly forgot about it.

Morzan led her past the now unbolted door and down the steep stairway. As they walked, he explained what this part of the castle was dedicated to, and as he did, she began to understand why it had been barred to her before then. He told her about why they were going there now and who lay inside, and at last she understood some of his behavior the days before.

"Our agreement is not yet complete however I expect you to act as if it is, as I have," Morzan told her coldly when they had reached the bottom of the stairway, "I have a task for you today and should you choose today not to do as I ask, I'll consider our contract void and I will be do with that as I please. Do we understand each other?"

She nodded, feeling unable to speak, and followed behind him. Inside a man kneeled chained to the ground. As Morzan walked to him, standing in front of the prisoner, Meri stood by the closed door and looked around the dungeon. She looked from the strangely shaped mental instruments near the wall and the dark stains splattered across the stone to the man who had been spying for Morzan's enemies. In that moment, she didn't dare so much as think, for fear that her thoughts would be too loud and echo off the stone walls.

"I wonder, do they realize how incredibly fortunate they are-" Morzan leaned down to the man. They were so close now that their noses almost touched. "-to have someone, so loyal to them and their cause that you would risk more than just your short, insignificant life. I cannot not help but to commend you, it's a rare skill to be able give a near flawless performance. It almost fooled me. Almost but not quite."

Tornac kept staring ahead. He didn't flinch or make any indication that he heard him. His eye, the one without the scar, was beginning to swell shut. Dark bruises dappled the exposed skin along his arms, neck, and face. His hair, silvered with age, hung limply in tangles around his face.

"I've gathered all that I need from you. You've given me quite a charitable amount of information. I cannot help but to convey my gratitude," he continued in a gentle tone, "however grateful as I am, there is still the matter of your treachery, and though I could keep you here and make you suffer enough to have you atone for your betrayal, I'm feeling merciful. Consider it an act of appreciation for our work together in your youth." Morzan paused here and stood slowly. His gaze turned to her, beckoning her with his fingers. With his other hand, he drew out Zar'roc. "Muirgheal, my child, come here."

Meri stepped to him on her own accord and when she neared, he held out Zar'roc to her hilt first. Realization dawned on her, and she looked from the blade to Morzan with wide eyes. She took a step back but he forced the hilt of the blade into the palms of her hands, and with his hands over hers made certain that her grip was secure. He gave her a pointed look, and seemingly satisfied, he took a step back, his hands falling away, and she stumbled under the sudden weight of Zar'roc. It was heavier than she thought it would be. Yet, its weight seemed fitting to her; that such a weapon used for dark deeds would be not undemanding.

Morzan, clasped his hands behind his back, and gave her a nod. His eyes piercing her, and she knew the underlying command, as well as the threat if she disobeyed, without being told. Meri slowly turned to Tornac and many emotions stirred within her at once. The greatest was regret. She thought of their mornings together on the sparing fields; of the gentle way he honed her skills in swordcraft and tampered her anger with an occasional joke or a lighthearted smile; of how he had a way to make her feel restored after not sleeping the night before and how he seemed to dampen her fears without her ever voicing them.

If they had true time together, she thought that they would have been close. That a bond of friendship would have formed, and perhaps they would have spent evenings together drinking wine and eating good food, and talking about books and poems and swordcraft. She might have turned to him with her troubles seeking his advice, and learned who this man truly was, as well as the stories he had to tell. But that was never to be, perhaps in another life that wasn't lorded by Morzan but certainly not this one.

I am sorry, she wanted say. I'm so very sorry. I don't want to do this.

His eyes met her. Within his gaze she saw his peace and steadiness. Tornac gave her soft smile and before turning away and inclining his head towards the ground. Well, then, my lady, he seemed to say. You best get it over with and not keep on dreading it. It will happen by your hand or his, and yours will not be so cruel. I'm ready whenever you are.

Meri shifted her feet, raising the blade and swung as the old swordmaster had taught her to (should she ever come across prisoners of war). Zar'roc swung true and she heard more than saw, his body fall onto the ground as his head rolled away. Her heart was beat quickly in her chest, and her hands were trembling.

She didn't look at his body but at the sword. Tornac's blood gleamed lighter than the red blade in her hand, glistening in an odd way as if it were paint from her palette. It took everything she had, not to drop Zar'roc onto the ground and fall down with it.

….
….

It wasn't long after Tornac's death that Morzan made good on his promise to have her swear over her loyalty. The weight of her allegiance wrapped around her like many coats made of lead, and at first, she felt as if she were crumbling beneath its weight. Morzan's gaze as he watched her was the heaviest of all.

With her promise, came his own and she sat back into her chair when it was complete, knowing that he couldn't touch her parents or siblings. Any of her siblings, so long as they did not rise against him. Papa had tasked her with protecting her family once, long ago, as he had protected him in his way during his long absences, and even if it looked differently than anyone intended and if she wasn't certain what to believe anymore, it a task she would complete however temporary that protection would last. She knew that it wouldn't protect them forever not with Eragon and his dragon being trained to overthrow the King but it would be enough. A safeguard that would only sway Morzan's hand for a time.

Meri hoped that it was enough. That sacrificing such a great part of who she was would be enough. For bloodying her hands at Morzan's words, would be enough. She tried not to think about Tornac but with each passing night he reappeared in her dreams again and again. And each time she picked up her paints, the images of his blood and his head rolling away played within her mind. One day, unable to feel her heart beating in her chest, she put her paints away and did not touch them again. Her stories, too, were put away. Meri felt no willingness to write, or to think, and she even if she had, there was no longer a good time to do so.

With Tornac gone, and his nephew missing, Morzan took over her morning lessons. He was not kind as Tornac had been but harshly cut down her defiance until her arms shook so badly that she could not hold Aconitum upright. The first time this happened, she tried to call him to a halt, saying that she could take no more but he wasn't done and kept pressing her until at last, when she was about to collapse, he called their training to a halt.

Her work with him in the tower continued but now she found it hard to think clearly, and often made small errors. The look he gave her each time somehow made her believe that he was disappointed, and she scrambled trying to think how to fix her mistakes or wishing that she could take back what she said. She could not, she knew, but wished all the same.

As midwinter approached, and their sparring lessons became more and more infrequent due to the to the ice and snow, she began spending more time in the tower working alone, able to once again think clearly. It was that day hadn't stood out to her any, and she was reviewing the reports from the east, when she saw what she had been dreading. She wished that it hadn't come so soon, after only weeks of the protection being secured.

Meri tried to think of ways around the oath, so that she could destroy the report but could not, and when Morzan came in, she wordlessly handed it to him. He read over it before tossing it aside, saying that such rumors came every few years but never were they true, and she fought against sagging in relief. No other news of dragons came, and soon it passed out of her mind until she forgot it completely.
…

As winter began to wane, there were no whispering songs of the forest dancing through the night air, and no sudden of blossoming of flowers. When the time came for it happen, Meri stood in the gardens and looked over the still slumbering flora. With no songs in the Language of the Forest to herald springtime the world woke slowly, and for the second time in her memory she saw what many others did. Saw the world as those who never stepped inside the elven forest. The slow awakening of life after the cold clutches of winter that began with a small budding tree and later a world of life. she kept an ear out for the songs regardless, searching for their effects every time she wondered out of the castle keep even with the knowledge that it would never come.

One day, during that spring, Morzan had been particularly hard during his lesson, pushing her well past her limits. He knocked her to the ground over and again until she was convinced that her backside was battered and as blue as the night sky. Even so he did not halt, and pushed her harder until at last she lay in on the ground in defeat.

He stood over her. "I assumed that you were raised to be stronger, better than you are but you're weak! Rise up, little flower," he sneered, and she startled at hearing her papa's endearment for, "or is that what you wish to remain to be. A flower that while lovely to look at; is easily crushed. Steams broken under the smallest of pressures, roots pulled from the ground with a simple flick of the wrist, petals broken shattered in the wind. Delicate and weak."

"I'm not weak," she bit out, struggling to get her feet. She grabbed her blade and readied her stance. Her legs shook. "And you have no right to call me that! I'm not your 'little flower!'"

He pulled her to the ground by her hair, and pressed his boot onto her chest forcing her into the dirt. "You are what I say you are," he growled. He was standing over her now. Zar'roc pointed at her head. "You no longer have a choice, Muirgheal, and the next time I find that you've been keeping secrets from me, I will not be so forgiving."

He stepped away from her, dropping a stack of folded pieces of parchment on her chest. When he left the walled courtyard, she turned over with a groan and read over the note. It told of multiple sights of a blue dragon, its rider, and a man fitting her papa's description near the boarders of Du Weldenvarden but nothing about them acting against the Empire. The next came was her own handwriting, a simple poem she had written when she first arrived to Greynsi and didn't know better. There was more of her writings from that time, as well, things she thought were destroyed but she didn't read over those. She knew enough of what she had written in her nativity. It was easy to see how he made the connections and what he concluded.

Meri struggled to get to her feet, and she did, she stumbled to her rooms. When she got there, she found that Pethel was organizing the clothes within the wardrobe. The woman took a quick glance at her and stilled, and Meri wonder just what she saw. There was an intake of breath as she put down a dress and told her to sit on the bed. Pethel walked over to the washbasin and dipped in her washing cloth.

"What happened?" said the woman handing her the now damp cloth.

Meri looked at arm where was burned and arched. There was a large scrape there, blood still beading at the center. Her whole body ached and burned as if she were covered in wounds that would never heal. She didn't know if they would heal. Every injury felt as if they deeper than only her skin, as if they penetrated into her very bones.

"Our lord is a good lord," whispered Pethel when she said nothing. "He has cared for my family well. We who work here are not ill-treated and no mouths go hungry, not even the slaves-"

"That means nothing," Meri interrupted angerly, dabbing at the blood with the cloth. "A dog still loves the master who beats it, if only because it knows no better."

"Yes, and I know better. I've worked in places where treatment was unspeakably harsh. Where our overseers sought for a reason to have their underlings be punished or wages slashed. Greynsi is no such place," she intoned, her eyes sharpening. Pethel took the cloth from her hands, and wiped at her face. Her cheek stung when the fabric touched it and she pulled away with a gasp. "Our lord has his reasons for what happened today. You need not worry that he if thought you would not soon heal, that he'd surely heal you himself. He is not needlessly cruel."

"It's not about your lord's reasons, he meant to shame me. That's why he tossed me around like a ragged doll and refused to heal me," she said firmly, backing to the middle of her bed away from Pethel. "A punishment for keeping secrets when he thought that I should not. He said as much. That this was my own fault."

There was a beat of silence. "What secrets did you keep, poppet?"

Meri silently slid from the bed and debated telling her. Pethel had always been gentle with her before, even giving her advice on how to handle Morzan's moods when he was his worse and to caution being comfortable when he was his best. She was loyal to the master of the house but she also was aware of his fault having known him for many years. "I did not tell him that my brother is a Dragon Rider," she said softly looking at the ground. "That he is free from any claim of the King's and because of our agreement, he cannot go after him and his dragon. Morzan can't even so much as search for him unless he and his dragon act against the crown."

"My gods, Lord Morzan has a son," Pethel breathed growing pale. "Is that why Lady Selena hid from him for so long?"

"Morzan cannot claim on my brother. He's not his father."

"You best not do not repeat that to anyone else," the woman cautioned, and turned her back to Meri, sorting through the wardrobe. "Our lord has a right to be cross with you for deceiving him no matter the purpose. I'm not unaware of his treatment towards you nor this agreement between the two of you. The walls here whisper of all that happens. Our lord was most unkind to hold the wellbeing of your loved ones to his advantage but know that he means well even when he does not portray himself well." Pethel came over with a dress and began to help her dress. When Meri was fully clothed and clean, the woman lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. "I have a daughter your age and she a kind soul but is as soft as butter, and would have broken where you stand strong. You've adapted yourself well, poppet, but if you do not continue to fight against him you will be torn down as you were today. Our lord is a good lord but he not always kind especially to those closest to him. Now, why don't you come to the kitchens with me and we'll get you something for the pain?"

Meri nodded at the ground, and Pethel guided her to kitchens. Had the woman not, she would have gotten lost like had upon first arriving at Greynsi. Forsaken to wonder the endless passageways until someone decided to take enough pity to direct her elsewhere. The door to the kitchens was hidden in shadows, further from the Great Hall than she thought was reasonable but, perhaps, that was due to bubble of noise that came from within.

"Here, poppet," said the woman, gesturing to a chair besides a low table within. "Sit. I'll be back momentarily."

Meri dazedly sat down, nearing falling as her knee gave way. Every part of her from the beating she had taken. She thought that if every sparring lesson was like that, she wouldn't last week. That she would die on the courtyard and be left for the birds to pick over.

Pechel was whispering to a girl around Meri's age, likely the daughter she had spoken of moments before. The girl looked very much like her mother, and had long hair peeking from beneath a cloth head wrap. It wasn't too different from a style Mam had taught her use while making cheese or butter from the milk they got every morning. Elida would likely have taken over the task of dairy work now, and she wondered if her sister had any patience for it or if they now went without.

She pitched herself, driving away the thought. Meri didn't want to think of her family, it was something that she gotten good at not thinking about but now that she had, it was as if she could not stop. Everything about them, everything that she would remember came unbidden to forefront of her mind. Her eyes began to burn as she thought of the farm on the outskirts of Carvahall, and her mam and siblings.

She wondered if it had it been a mistake to give Morzan what he wanted, and thought that it would have been better if she had run to them, screaming her warning; yelling at them to run, to fight Morzan. Yet at the same time, she wondered if they would have gotten away or if Morzan would have been forced to raise his blade. If he did, she did not think that it would be a fight any of them could win.

Someone touched her shoulder and she nearly jumped out of her skin. She turned to the servant and saw that the girl was studying her with curious eyes. The girl gave her a weak smile and handed her an earthen cup. "It helps with the nerves," she said softly.

Meri looked at the steam curling into the air, and grasped the cup with both hands. Her fingers were still shaking. "What's your name?"

"Orla," said the servant, ducking her head.

"Thank you, Orla."

Meri took a small sip. It tasted pleasant and sweet, and warmed her quickly. Shivers racked through her body and her teeth began to chatter. She hadn't known just how cold she had been. Orla nodded and took the decanter away from the small table before turning back to her work.

Sipping on the drink, she watched as the girl sorted through the herbs and placed their leaves into a miniature stone mortar and pestle. As the servant began to pound them, she closed her eyes at the familiar sound of leaves cracking between the stones.

It took her back to another time. So vastly different from her current life that felt like a whole other world. The Meri from that place had often helped her mother in the kitchen turn seeds and dried herbs into powder. As a child her favorite was smashing lavender for tea. Her mam had shared with her that it had been her grandmother favorite tea. And though she had never met the woman, she drank it with her mam in memory of her each autumn to celebrate the woman's life.

Yet now, as she sat in the kitchens within Greynsi, she no longer felt like that girl. It was as if Meri was a completely different person altogether, or perhaps nothing more than a memory of a person. A memory of a girl who had waited within the forest for the elves to come, year after year, just to see their starlight horses. That girl had been animated and eager and loved. She had been confident and, oh so, full of life; always jumping up at the merest hint of adventure, sneaking off for just to see a different sights in search of simple wonders, that girl had been alive. That was until she arrived here.

This place murdered that Meri in the darkness, silence, and hurt. The man who fathered her had destroyed that life, that girl. Like the fragile flower he claimed her to be, he had crushed her blooming leaves beneath his feet, and now she was no more than a wisp of memory. And she didn't know how to fix her, or if it was even possible. Perhaps it was not, and everything had been was truly gone forever, like the wilting summer leaves in the autumn wind.

However, these were not the thoughts Meri pondered on in that moment, no, these were the thoughts would come later that night when she was alone in her rooms. For now, she was wrapped up in much more pleasant memories; memories of the games she had once played with her siblings beneath the warm, emerald trees that stretched out towards the sky. Of chasing werlights over a meadow of clover, and playing in a wooden byre in the middle of winter.

She didn't notice when the cold left her body, perhaps it was when she was thinking of lavender or little Tessie clinging to her for a hug or perhaps it was the memory of her mother's laughter. It was a mystery but what mattered was that for the first since she could remember, she was content.

Meri relaxed into her seat, her eyes still closed, and listened to the noise around her; the crackling laugh of the fire, the voices of the kitchen staff as they laughed and joked, the rhythmic pounding of stone against stone, the singsongs of birds from outside an open door, and the smell of fresh bread in the stone oven. In that moment she had forgotten where she was and what brought her there and knew only the moment that she was alive. That moment no matter how short lived was a balm to her soul.