The Ordinance

Chapter 4 - Isabelle

So to everyone who's read my story and come this far: Thank you! I can't tell you how grateful I am.

I don't know if any of you read my bio, but I would really like it if you guys would comment and tell me what you think. Part of the reason I wanted to share my story with you guys was to get feedback. So, in all seriousness please tell me what you think, whether it be positive or negative.

Sorry for the long author's note. Back to the story.

•••••

Isabelle was keenly aware of the time passing as she rode in her cushioned carriage, pulling her fleece overcoat tighter around her arms as the chill of the Faerie North settled around her.
She'd considered telling her younger siblings exactly why she was coming to the Faerie palace today, that a mysterious source had been slipping her notes underneath her door all through the past three months, but she'd decided against it.

The notes were written in a different hand-writing every time, but signed with the same name, so that Isabelle could not ask her guards to identify the person based on their handwriting. They always offered new pieces of Renegade intel, but none of them contained anything substantial except for the one she was meeting with Maxon about. She knew he thought of the Renegades as nothing but conspiracies, but Isabelle now had reason to believe there was a lot more going on right underneath his nose that he didn't know about.

She'd brought the subject of the Renegades up early in their first year as members of the Council, when there had just been a few rumors floating around about a rebel organization forming. She had just turned 16, and he had been 18 at the time.

"If these rumors are true, I think it would be best if we stamped out the threat now, before it truly becomes something to worry about," she'd suggested.

"You're right, Isabelle," she'd liked the sound of her name in his beautiful accent, "they're nothing but rumors, created by people who are still angry about my father's execution." His voice remained civil, but she could see the pain in his eyes.

"These people are a threat, Maxon, whether they're forming an organization or not."
"Why, because they're Faeries?" he'd shot back. That was the first and only time she'd seen him angry.

She was startled by the anger in his voice. Was she being ignorant? Insensitive? No, she thought to herself, I've got a point to make.

"Faeries or not, organization or not, these people are inspiring rebellion, Maxon. Why do you insist we take this lightly?"

"I think you're taking the threats of some bored teenagers too seriously, Isabelle."

"I'm a sixteen year old girl on the most prestigious court in the Human-Faerie union," she stared at him directly in his sapphire eyes. "I think you're underestimating what a bored teenager can do." She saw respect in his eyes then, and she'd never seen it leave. Though she knew she had lost the argument, it still felt like she'd gained something.

Now she stood at the entrance to the Faerie palace, a beautiful structure made from slabs of white marble, with neatly kept vines growing in delicate patterns on its walls. A giant marble staircase led to the main entrance of the palace, guards poised on either side of the large doors that led into the building. As she ascended the stairs, she picked up the folds of her long dress with her gloved hands. When she walked into the building, she caught one of the guards staring at her slightly exposed legs. Men, she thought exasperatedly.

Maxon was waiting for her in the entrance hall, smiling. He was dressed in a white button down shirt with navy blue slacks and a matching vest, his family crest embroidered the pocket of the vest.

"I'm glad to see you've made it here safely," he said happily.

"My journey was peaceful," she paused, "and very cold." They both chuckled.

"If you spent more time here, I suspect you'd get used to it," she smiled, and he moved so that he was standing in front of her. He took her gloved hand and kissed the top while she blushed like a schoolgirl. Stupid Isabelle, pull yourself together! He stood again, smiling.
She cleared her throat and motioned toward the northern wing, where Maxon's office was, "Shall we?"

He linked arms with her and led her to his office. As they entered, a guard shut the door behind them. Maxon took a chair in the corner of his office, but Isabelle remained standing.

"So, what would you like to discuss, Princess?" he said.

"Well, Maxon, the trouble is: I've been getting these letters," she pulled all of them out of her small handbag and handed the pile to Maxon.

"They say they're from the Renegades.
Whoever this person is has been giving me insight on rebel movements," Maxon was shuffling through the pile now; Isabelle sat across from him now, "and I thought it was utter nonsense until I received this one," she handed it to him, "on the day of Natalia's Trial."

Princess,

I believe some people may be beginning to suspect me. This will probably be that last letter you get from me. I have to tell you something first though. Our leader may be coming back today; she's been gone a while now. All that to say: watch your back.

- Servant to the Crown

Isabelle saw Maxon look up from the note at last.

"Don't tell me these are some bored teenagers, Maxon."

"No, you're right. They're not."

He looked deep in thought.

"But that's not all I wanted to point out to you," she walked over to him. "You see how on the letter about six weeks prior to that, it says that they're leader was planning something big?" They both looked up at each other.

"The building."

"The dates match, Maxon. Their leader has to be Natalia." He stood and started pacing.
She watched him walk back and forth, back and forth, trying to fit the pieces of the puzzle together in a way that would prove Natalia's innocence.

He stopped pacing to look at her, "You're accusing my sixteen year old sister of treason."

"I know it's hard, but all the evidence points to her."

"You don't even know who wrote these letters, Isabelle. And, what? You want to throw her in a cell again? Put her on trial? Have her executed?"

Now that Isabelle thought about it, she wasn't quite sure what she intended on doing.

"No, I don't want that," she said timidly

"Then what?"

"I don't know, Maxon!"

"Do you want me to put her in a time-out?"

  He pointed toward a corner of the room and said in a sing-song voice, "Now, Natalia, don't go around leading dangerous rebels. You might get killed." He looked at Isabelle and gave her a look that made her feel incredibly stupid.

Isabelle didn't know how to calm him down; she hadn't thought this far ahead.

"I can clearly see you're distraught, Maxon. Maybe I should just leave," she stood and walked toward the door.

Just as she was reaching for the handle, Maxon said, "It'll be late into the night by the time you get back," he looked her in the eyes hopefully. "You can stay the night if you'd like."

She wanted to with all of her heart, but why was he doing this? She has no more information left to offer him, nor guidance. Maybe he just wants me to stay, that stupid schoolgirl inside of her thought.

"I suppose," she'd let the schoolgirl win, "if it's alright, that is." You're going to regret this, she scolded herself.

But as Maxon, smiling, led her out of the room, she realized it didn't really matter to her.