Murtagh isn’t amused by Chuck E. He’s not even sure why he was invited. It’s hard to believe Eragon wants him there. It was probably just mother’s insistence.

“You do realize this could go terribly wrong?” Morzan asked while binding Isilmë’s wrists behind his back.

“Or it could go terribly right. He’ll want to dominate me.”

“He’s just as likely to kill you.” Morzan replied, unclipping the elven prince’s pale hair to elegantly braid a section and leave most free to fall down his back.

Violet eyes shifted from his reflection in the mirror he stood before to the duke perfecting his hair. “No, not when given the chance to desecrate me first to spite Vrael. It won’t be enough that he is dead. We could roleplay through it. Help me really get the part down right of helpless... captured… frightened…”

“You’re really unhinged for coming up with this whole perverse, life-endangering scheme.” And they both grinned. “You’re going to have to stop smiling to make this believable at all.”