The Truth About Lies (An Inheritance Cycle Fanfiction)

Forgetting Him

"You may," I replied, taking hold of his offered hand. He held my hand aloft as he led me onto the dance floor and then turned to take hold of my waist. We joined the other dancing couples in the waltz, taking care to not run into anyone. He was dressed in a black doublet that was threaded with red filament; the sleeves were studded with little pyramids of iron, and the front was covered in black velvet filigree of vinework. About his neck was a collar of scarlet red underneath the raised black collar of the doublet. His mask was, unsurprisingly, in the shape of a dragon's face, ruby red just like Thorn. Although it pained me to admit it, he looked extremely handsome in his raiment. I willed the thoughts away and focused on my footwork, which I'd been working on with an instructor the king had provided. As for Murtagh, it was obvious he'd suffered through years of dancing lessons, for he swept me around the dance floor with surprising grace. I suddenly had a flash back to when I danced with Miles in Surda, when all I'd wished was to be dancing with Murtagh. My wishes certainly had changed...

"I know you probably never want to talk to me again—"

"You would be correct in that assumption," I snapped, cutting him off.

His mouth straightened into a thin line as he held his tongue and his temper. "But," he continued, "there are some things I would like to explain to you."

"I don't want to hear what you have to say."

"Please, Tabatha," he implored desperately, real emotion and pain coloring his voice. "I beg of you. Do not scorn me for what you think I have done. Let me tell you what happened—"

"Murtagh, stop." He stared at me pointedly with those wolfish eyes I used to love, but he remained silent. "We are not the people we once were. We have been thrust into a game of lies and deceit, and now we must play our parts." His hand tightened around my waist, but he said nothing more on the matter. Aside from the anger I had in my heart towards him, it would be better for both of us if we just stayed away from each other. The waltz finally ended in a crescendo of notes and everyone clapped for the orchestra. I stepped away from Murtagh, trying to hide my relief and clapped along with them. But then I saw the other men making their way towards me. It seemed the torture was nowhere near over tonight.

Murtagh stepped aside and rejoined the king upon the dais while I was swept away by a man whose name I never caught. He was kind and attentive enough, but he was twice my age, if not more. I was just glad the dance was a short one. After he left me, I noticed the other men milling about, and then saw one man in particular pushing through the crowd. He was dressed in a militaristic doublet the color of fresh cream with silver buttons and pointed shoulders. And he wore a white mask that was painted to look like cracked porcelain, with silver filigree and a figure of a man's face between two birds at the top. Through the holes cut out for the eyes, I saw his blue irises shining intently at the sight of me.

"May I have the next dance, Your Highness?" he asked, taking my hand and lightly kissing the top of it. My body shivered involuntarily.

"You may," I replied breathlessly. I had almost forgotten how Evander had taken my breath away the first night we met. During my time here, I'd been trying to avoid Evander, but now I found that I couldn't take my eyes off of him.

We fell in with the other couples for the rondo, a slow dance that required the partners to stand very close to one another. He smiled down at me as we moved together, our chests nearly touching. "I must say, Your Highness, you dance remarkably well," he complimented. I felt a blush coming into my cheeks.

"Well..." I stumbled, "much of my studying revolved around the proper etiquette of a lady. And I had a wonderful dancing master." I looked up at him demurely from under my mask.