The Truth About Lies (An Inheritance Cycle Fanfiction)

The First Social Event of a Princess

"Tabatha," Isabelle said slowly, "you can't be serious. Are there bats in the belfry! Because insanity is the only plausible explanation I can think of to account for this crazy idea of yours." I watched as she paced back and forth across our tiny room. "Just because this man claims he knew your mother over sixteen years ago does not mean you can just drop everything and trust him!" Although I'd had my reservations as well, they had nothing to do with Braeden.

"Isabelle, please trust me on this one? I am going with him to train, and I'm asking you to come with me. Whether you do or not is your choice." She suddenly knelt down in front of me and took my hands up into her own.

"Please, just think about what you're doing," she pleaded desperately.

"I already have," I replied sternly. "This man knows about my mother's powers, and that means he can teach me how to use my own. One day, I'm going to have to face my father, and the more I know when that day comes, the better." She gazed into my eyes for the longest time, and then solemnly bowed her head.

"All right," she whispered, "I'll come with you. But only because I think you're going to get into some kind of trouble and no one will be there to get you out of it when it comes."

I smiled and wrapped her in a hug. "Thank you, Isabelle," I said. "And besides, Lord Braeden's son is terribly dour, I don't think I'd be able to stand it if you weren't there. Come on, we'd better get packed. We haven't got much time."

We were waiting in Lord Braeden's stables at precisely three o'clock. Our trunks were piled on top of each other in the wagons that would carry the rest of the supplies to Braeden's estate. My stallion—whom I'd yet to name—shifted his weight beneath me and nickered softly to the brown mare that Isabelle had secured from Braeden's stables. The lord himself sat atop a beautiful white charger, sighing impatiently every few minutes or so. The only thing missing was Miles, who was strangely absent. We sat in silence, waiting for him to join us. Finally, at half past three, Miles came strutting out of the house towards the stables, a haughty look upon his face. Braeden looked ready to explode, but he managed to keep his temper in check.

"Ah, Miles," he said through clenched teeth, "there you are." Miles offered up no explanation for his tardiness; he simply climbed into the saddle of his buckskin destrier. I watched as Isabelle followed his movements, and a slow blush crept into her cheeks. How did I know this would happen? "Well then, are we all ready to go?" Braeden offered us all a false smile and spurred his mount forward.

Most of the ride was silent until we got out of the city. That's when Lord Braeden began explaining to Isabelle all the different creatures and various shrubbery that could be found in the grasslands, unaware that she herself was born in this land. Isabelle was only pretending to listen; I could see her casting furtive glances in Miles' direction every now and then. And then there was Miles, riding silently to my left and gazing moodily at the horizon.

"You don't seem terribly excited to be going to the estate," I remarked casually. Perhaps if I could show him I wasn't my mother, he wouldn't be so hostile towards me. He continued scanning the landscape, eyes narrowed.

"Country life does not suit me," he finally replied haughtily. "Nor does the company, to be quite honest." The words stung, but I was expecting them.

"I mean your father no ill will, Miles. I am actually quite grateful for the help he has offered," I said, trying not to sound too desperate. If I was going to be here for quite some time, I didn't want there to be any hatred between us. It would only make the duration of the stay that much more unbearable. "Whatever feelings he may have harbored for my mother—"

"Still harbors," he snapped harshly, cutting me off mid-sentence. "He is still in love with a dead woman."

"I would thank you not to speak so impertinently of my mother," I shot back, turning to look at him. He still refused to meet my gaze. "Whatever feelings he still harbors for my mother, I am not her. I am here to atone for the wrong my mother did him, nothing more."