The Truth About Lies (An Inheritance Cycle Fanfiction)

The First Social Event of a Princess

"Do I really have to wear that?"

"Yes!" she snapped, pulling on the hem of my tunic. Begrudgingly, I pulled off my tunic and stood in my thin undershirt while she wrapped the corset around my middle. I held it by the top while she circled around behind me. "Alright, are you ready?" I nodded weakly and closed my eyes, preparing for the worst. She tugged on the laces at the bottom, and that wasn't so bad. But the tugging became steadily worse the further up she went. The little piece of fabric got tighter, until I could hardly breathe, and the boning was digging into my sides. Finally, she looped the hook at the top and released me. "How does that feel?"

"Like I'm being suffocated," I moaned, tugging slightly at the top.

"Good, that's how it's supposed to feel."

"Do people really wear these all the time?" I had heard my aunt tell me about the noble ladies of the king's court, and how they dressed in fine fabrics all the time. But I couldn't imagine subjecting myself to this kind of torture daily.

"People in high society do," Isabelle replied. "We're supposed to play a part tonight, so we have to look the part. Come on, let me help you put the dress on." She slipped a full underskirt over my head and tightened it about my already cinched waist. Then she placed the dress over my head and pulled it down where it fit perfectly against the lines of my body. She pushed up on my chest until it seemed I would spill over the neckline, and then pulled the detached sleeves up my arms. When that was done, she sat me down in front of the vanity.

"Thank you for all of your help, Isabelle," I said softly, looking at her reflection in the mirror. She was wearing her mother's wedding dress, and I couldn't help but think she looked much more beautiful in it than I did. "You look wonderful yourself." She thanked me quietly and then got to work on my voluminous locks of hair, twisting and pulling until they were arranged into an elaborate chignon of pin curls at the base of my neck. She must have had some experience being a lady's maid, or else she was just extremely talented when it came to hair. She lined my upper and lower lids with dark kohl, making the violet color of my eyes stand out even more than they already did. I sprayed a bit of a sweet-smelling perfume onto the bare skin of my chest and then stood.

"You're ready," she said, smiling sweetly. "No one will be able to take their eyes off you." I laughed nervously, but I wasn't sure how to respond. After running for so long, I was uncomfortable being the center of attention. "But I think the party's starting without us. Let's get going."

We linked arms and then exited into the hall. I could hear the dull murmur of idle chatter and the clicking of women's heels on the marble floor of the entrance hall as they made their way into the dining room. We would eat first, and then the real torture would come... dancing. I had no idea how people in high society danced, and I was dreading making a fool of myself. Isabelle must have been able to sense my discomfort.

"Don't worry, Tabby. Just watch me, and I'll show you how to do it," she whispered reassuringly. By now, we were standing at the top of the grand staircase that descended into the entrance hall. There were a few people filing in still, and even more milling about in the gallery where we were. Apparently, as Isabelle had informed me, it was improper for young ladies to enter a party without a male escort, so we had to wait to be rescued. Isabelle was gorgeous, so of course a young man with sweeping blonde hair snatched her up.

"May I escort you, my lady?" he asked, giving her a toothy grin. I could see Isabelle was blushing furiously, but she nodded her assent. They moved towards the staircase and the young man leaned over to the steward that was announcing names.

The steward tapped his silver scepter against the marble floor three times. "The Duke Jacen and Lady Isabelle!" he said in a booming voice, the words reverberating against the tall ceilings. Several people down below in the hall stopped their conversations and looked up at the handsome newcomers as they descended the stairs. Isabelle seemed to fit right in with this crowd. But me... I felt like a mule in a thoroughbred race. This was absolutely humiliating.