After a time, she said,I have been a fool.

We are all fools sometimes.

That makes it no easier when it is your turn to play dunce.

I suppose not.

I have always known what to do. When Garrow died, I knew it was the right thing to pursue the Ra’zac. When Brom died, I knew that we should go to Gil’ead and thence to the Varden. And when Ajihad died, I knew that you should pledge yourself to Nasuada. The path has always been clear to me. Except now. In this issue alone, I am lost.

What is it, Saphira?

Instead of answering, she turned the subject and said,Do you know why this is called the Stone of Broken Eggs?

No.

Because during the war between dragons and elves, the elves tracked us to this location and killed us while we slept. They tore apart our nests, then shattered our eggs with their magic. That day, it rained blood in the forest below. No dragon has lived here since.

Eragon remained silent. That was not why he was here. He would wait until she could bring herself to address the situation at hand.

Say something!demanded Saphira.

Will you let me heal your leg?

Leave well enough alone.

Then I shall remain as mute as a statue and sit here until I turn to dust, for I have the patience of a dragon from you.

When they came, her words were halting, bitter, and self-mocking:It shames me to admit it. When we first came here and I saw Glaedr, I felt such joy that another member of my race survived besides Shruikan. I had never even seen another dragon before, except in Brom’s memories. And I thought . . . I thought that Glaedr would be as pleased by my existence as I was by his.

But he was.

You don’t understand. I thought that he would be the mate I never expected to have and that together we could rebuild our race.She snorted, and a burst of flame escaped her nostrils.I was mistaken. He does not want me.

Eragon chose his response with care to avoid offending her and to provide a modicum of comfort.That’s because he knows you are destined for someone else: one of the two remaining eggs. Nor would it be proper for him to mate with you when he is your mentor.

Or perhaps he does not find me comely enough.

Saphira, no dragon is ugly, and you are the fairest of dragons.

I am a fool,she said. But she raised her left wing and kept it in the air as permission for him to tend to her injury.

Eragon limped to Saphira’s side, where he examined the crimson wound, glad that Oromis had given him so many scrolls on anatomy to read. The blow—by claw or tooth, he was not sure—had torn the quadriceps muscle beneath Saphira’s hide, but not so much as to bare the bone. Merely closing the surface of the wound, as Eragon had done so many times, would not be enough. The muscle had to be knitted back together.

The spell Eragon used was long and complex, and even he did not understand all its parts, for he had memorized it from an ancient text that offered little explanation beyond the statement that, given no bones were broken and the internal organs were whole, “this charm will heal any ailment of violent origins, excepting that of grim death.” Once he uttered it, Eragon watched with fascination as Saphira’s muscle writhed beneath his hand—veins, nerves, and fibers weaving together—and became whole once more. The wound was big enough that, in his weakened state, he dared not heal it with just the energy from his body, so he drew upon Saphira’s strength as well.

It itches,said Saphira when he finished.

Eragon sighed and leaned his back against the rough basalt, looking at the sunset through his eyelashes.I fear that you will have to carry me off this rock. I’m too tired to move.

With a dry rustle, she twisted in place and laid her head on the bones beside him.I have treated you poorly ever since we came to Ellesméra. I ignored your advice when I should have listened. You warned me about Glaedr, but I was too proud to see the truth in your words. . . . I have failed to be a good companion for you, betrayed what it means to be a dragon, and tarnished the honor of the Riders.

No, never that,he said vehemently.Saphira, you haven’t failed your duty. You may have made a mistake, but it was an honest one, and one that anyone might have committed in your position.

That does not excuse my behavior toward you.

He tried to meet her eye, but she avoided his gaze until he touched her upon the neck and said,Saphira, family members forgive one another, even if they don’t always understand why someone acts in a certain way. . . . You are as much my family as Roran—more. Nothing you can do will ever change that. Nothing. When she did not respond, he reached behind her jaw and tickled the patch of leathery skin below one of her ears.Do you hear me, eh? Nothing!

She coughed low in her throat with reluctant amusement, then arched her neck and lifted her head to escape his dancing fingers.How can I face Glaedr again? He was in a terrible rage. . . . The entire stone shook with the force of his anger.

At least you held your own when he attacked you.

It was the other way around.

Caught by surprise, Eragon raised his eyebrows.Well, in any case, the only thing to do is to apologize.

Apologize!

Aye. Go tell him that you are sorry, that this won’t happen again, and that you want to continue your training with him. I’m sure he will be sympathetic if you give him the chance.

Very well,she said in a low voice.

You’ll feel better once you do.He grinned.I know from experience.

She grunted and padded to the edge of the cave, where she crouched and surveyed the rolling forest.We should go. Soon it will be dark. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself upright—every movement costing him effort—and climbed onto her back, taking twice the time he usually did.Eragon? . . . Thank you for coming. I know what you risked with your back.