Arya smiled slightly. “They seem to have taken to each other.”
“That they have.”
A mutual understanding guiding them, he and Arya walked out from under Saphira and Fírnen, leaving the dragons to themselves. Saphira did not sit as she normally did, but remained crouched, as if she were about to spring onto a deer. Fírnen did the same. The tips of their tails twitched.
Arya looked well: better, Eragon thought, than she had since their time together in Ellesméra. For lack of a more suitable word, he would have said she looked happy.
Neither of them spoke for a while as they watched the dragons. Then Arya turned toward him and said, “I apologize for not contacting you sooner. You must think badly of me for ignoring you and Saphira for so long and for keeping such a secret as Fírnen.”
“Did you receive my letter?”
“I did.” To his surprise, she reached inside the front of her tunic and removed a square of battered parchment that, after a few seconds, he recognized. “I would have answered, but Fírnen had already hatched and I did not want to lie to you, even by omission.”
“Why keep him hidden?”
“With so many of Galbatorix’s servants still on the loose, and so few dragons remaining, I did not want to risk anyone finding out about Fírnen until he was large enough to defend himself.”
“Did you really think a human could have snuck into Du Weldenvarden and killed him?”
“Stranger things have happened. With the dragons yet on the brink of extinction, it was not a risk worth taking. If I could, I would keep Fírnen in Du Weldenvarden for the next ten years, until he is so large that none would dare attack him. But he wished to leave, and I could not deny him. Besides, the time has come for me to meet with Nasuada and Orik in my new role.”
Eragon could feel Fírnen showing and telling Saphira about the first time he caught a deer in the elves’ forest. He knew that Arya was aware of the exchange as well, for he saw her lip twitch in response to an image of Fírnen hopping in pursuit of a startled doe after he tripped over a branch.
“And how long have you been queen?”
“Since a month after my return. Vanir doesn’t know, however. I ordered the information kept from him and our ambassador to the dwarves so that I could concentrate on raising Fírnen without having to worry about the affairs of state that otherwise would have fallen to me.… You might like to know: I raised him on the Crags of Tel’naeír, where Oromis lived with Glaedr. It seemed only right.”
Silence fell between them. Then Eragon gestured at Arya’s diadem and at Fírnen and said, “How did all of this happen?”
She smiled. “On our return to Ellesméra, I noticed that Fírnen was beginning to stir within his shell, but I thought nothing of it, as Saphira had often done the same. However, once we reached Du Weldenvarden and passed through its wards, he hatched. It was nearly evening, and I was carrying his egg in my lap, as I used to carry Saphira’s, and I was speaking to him, telling him of the world and reassuring him that he was safe, and then I felt the egg shake and …” She shivered and tossed her hair, a bright film of tears in her eyes. “The bond is everything I imagined it to be. When we touched … I always wanted to be a Dragon Rider, Eragon, so that I could protect my people and avenge my father’s death at the hands of Galbatorix and the Forsworn, but until I saw the first crack appear in Fírnen’s egg, I never allowed myself to believe that it might actually come to pass.”
“When you touched, did—”
“Yes.” She lifted her left hand and showed him the silvery mark on the palm, the same as his own gedwëy ignasia. “It felt like …” She paused, searching for the words.
“Like ice-cold water that tingled and snapped,” he suggested.
“Exactly like that.” Without seeming to notice, she crossed her arms, as if chilled.
“So you returned to Ellesméra,” said Eragon. Now Saphira was telling Fírnen about when she and Eragon swam in Leona Lake while traveling to Dras-Leona with Brom.
“So we returned to Ellesméra.”
“And you went to live on the Crags of Tel’naeír. But why become queen when you were already a Rider?”
“It was not my idea. Däthedr and the other elders of our race came to the house on the crags, and they asked me to take up my mother’s mantle. I refused, but they returned the next day, and the day after that, and every day for a week, and each time with new arguments for why I should accept the crown. In the end, they convinced me that it would be best for our people.”
“Why you, though? Was it because you are Islanzadí’s daughter, or was it because you had become a Rider?”
“It was not just because Islanzadí was my mother, although that was part of it. Nor was it just because I was a Rider. Our politics are far more complicated than those of the humans or the dwarves, and choosing a new monarch is never easy. It involves obtaining consent from dozens of houses and families, as well as several of the older members of our race, and every choice they make is part of a subtle game that we have been playing amongst ourselves for thousands of years.… There were many reasons why they wanted me to become queen, not all of them obvious.”
Eragon shifted, glancing between Saphira and Arya, unable to reconcile himself to Arya’s decision. “How can you be a Rider as well as a queen?” he asked. “The Riders aren’t supposed to support any one race above the others. It would be impossible for the other peoples of Alagaësia to trust us if we did. And how can you help rebuild our order and raise the next generation of dragons if you’re busy with your responsibilities in Ellesméra?”
“The world is not as it used to be,” she said. “Nor can the Riders remain apart as they once did. There are too few of us to stand alone, and it will be a long while before there are again enough of us to resume our former place. In any event, you have already sworn yourself to Nasuada and to Orik and Dûrgrimst Ingeitum, but not to us, not to the älfakyn. It is only right that we should have a Rider and dragon as well.”
“You know that Saphira and I would fight for the elves as much as for the dwarves or the humans,” he protested.
“I know, but others do not. Appearances matter, Eragon. You cannot change the fact that you have given your word to Nasuada and that you owe your loyalty to Orik’s clan.… My people have suffered greatly over the past hundred years, and though it may not be apparent to you, we are not what we once were. As the fortunes of the dragons have declined, so too have our own. Fewer children have been born to us, and our strength has waned. Also, some have said that our minds are no longer as sharp as they used to be, although it is difficult to prove one way or another.”