The Truth About Lies (An Inheritance Cycle Fanfiction)

Tabatha's POV

There was a hazy light and a warm breeze coming from an open window. The sunlight shining down on me warmed my skin and made it tingle all over. The mattress and linens beneath me were incredibly soft, and I rolled over onto my side to snuggle into one of the feather pillows. A robin whistled his sweet song outside of the window, and the faint sounds of sellers at market and oxen carts rumbling down the street drifted up to my ears. When my eyes fluttered open, I saw white chiffon curtains hanging from the canopied bed, swaying in the breeze. At the window, I noticed a flowerbox hanging over the side and a stack of plain-bound books. A high-backed chair sat angled next to the window, to afford the perfect spot to read. I sat up slowly in the bed, taking in the rest of the room.

It was enormous; nearly three times the size of my room at my aunt and uncle's in Carvahall. A large hearth sat cold and empty, the warm weather doing away with the need for a fire. Shelves were built into the wall on either side of the mantle, filled with volumes of books embossed with gold lettering. A door across from the bed stood slightly open, and I saw a washroom there. To my right was a huge wardrobe, which I could only assume was full of clothes and shoes. And then there was another door; this one made of solid oak and banded in heavy iron. Where am I? What happened to me? The last thing I remembered was...

Murtagh.

Everything came flooding back to me in a rush and I found the room spinning about me. My head was pounding and my body ached all over. Quickly, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and yelped at the sudden cold of the hard stone. And as I rushed over to the huge, open window to gaze down at the scene below me, my heart filled with dread. All around me were soaring towers of stone and marble and emerald, reaching up into the bright, blue sky. A vast city spread out before me, reaching so far that I could hardly see anything beyond it. I stuck my head out a little and saw that I myself was high up in a black tower; a tower that was attached to a huge citadel. Overhead was a canopy of stone, shielding the castle that backed up to a sheer cliff face. Down below I could see a large courtyard, teeming with people talking in groups or strolling through the gardens and trees. And to my left, was another tower—much larger than the one I was in—and at the top was what looked like a massive beehive. Openings of varying size dotted the stone structure; leading into what I could only assume was a dragon hold. This could only be one place: Uru'baen.

It took everything within me not to scream. Galbatorix had finally captured me. And then I remembered... Murtagh had attacked me. He'd put some kind of spell on me while my back was turned and then delivered me to my father. How could he? My heart felt like it was shattering into a thousand pieces inside of my chest, breaking against the sharp knife of betrayal. It was heart wrenching enough to find out that he was still alive, but to know that he was in my father's service... The tears began to flow down my face and I found my head buried in my hands. Perhaps when I opened my eyes again, this would all just be a terrible nightmare. But when I opened them, I was still in the palatial room, gasping for breath as the sobs stole mine away from me.

When my tears subsided, I went over to the red velvet chaise that was at the end of the bed and sank down onto its cushions. What am I going to do? I have to get out of here and get back to Eragon and the Varden. But how? And I need to do it before my father begins whatever sinister plans he has for me. As these thoughts coursed through my head, I looked around the room and noticed a trunk next to the wardrobe. I got up to inspect and found my hand-and-a-half sword locked inside, along with Murtagh's yew bow and quiver, and a few sets of breeches and tunics and shirts. Why on earth would my father leave my weapons here? He must have truly been mad. I closed the trunk and then opened the engraved doors to the wardrobe, revealing the beautiful gowns within. There were all sorts of dresses; from evening wear, to riding garb, to ball gowns. Whatever Galbatorix was planning, he certainly was concerned with keeping up appearances. I went back to the trunk and pulled out a black leather pair of breeches and a long-sleeved white shirt made of a thin material that was quite like the curtains on my bed. The clothes I'd been wearing were covered in dirt, grime, and blood, and I was feeling an insatiable need to clean myself.