Memory's Wake Omnibus: The Complete Illustrated YA Fantasy Series

by Selina Fenech

  “I didn’t want anyone to see what I could do. I’m sorry.”

  “Right to be careful too,” Isabeth said. “Few people could cast a behest that complex, and those are just the people Thayl is trying to find. My, you’re good with your words though, just like your mother. But we’ll still need a dress for Memory.”

  “I can’t wear my own clothes?” Memory was dismayed. Her jeans and t-shirt felt way more comfortable than the tent she wore now.

  Slipping into her dress, Eloryn looked at her with pity. “They stand out too much; we already talked about this. But we’ll keep them, of course.”

  Memory watched how natural Eloryn looked in her dress, with her long flowing hair and pretty rounded shape. She guessed that was what a princess should look like. She imagined herself in a dress - bony, bruised, boy haired - and shuddered. She grabbed a bristle brush from a side table and made an effort to smooth her teased hair.

  Isabeth dug through an inlaid wood chest filled with clothing. “I may have something that will fit. Roen brings such lovely dresses for me, but not always just the right size. Still, it’s the thought that’s sweet. He’s done so well to afford to look after us how he does, considering. Maybe… No that won’t fit, scrap of a thing you are.”

  “I can just wear this,” Memory offered, motioning to the gown she had on without enthusiasm.

  Isabeth rolled her eyes, muttering in exasperation under her breath. “That is an under dress, dear. No, here, this is what I was looking for. We should be able to lace it down enough to fit you.”

  She pulled a simple rust-red dress from the depths, dusted it down and instructed that it should go over the under dress.

  Grumbling to herself, Memory took the dress and struggled to make sense of the laces, layers and yards of fabric. While Isabeth was distracted brushing Eloryn’s hair, Memory slipped the flick knife out of her jeans. She tucked it up into the binding sleeve of her dress, then stuffed her clothes into Eloryn’s bag. She pulled on her skater shoes, glad the long skirt covered them, and stood back up.

  Memory flinched, thinking there was a stranger in the room. It took a moment to realize she saw herself in the reflection of a gold framed mirror. There were things she’d gathered about her appearance, just from living within her body for the last couple of days, but seeing herself now struck her greatly. She was so little, slim-nearing-skeletal, smaller even than how she’d felt. She knew she was about the same height as Eloryn, but if Eloryn had an hourglass figure, she’d be a minute glass. She wished she had managed to eat something last night.

  She frowned, seeing the fading black and pink color of her hair clearly for the first time. Of course it was dyed! And then there were the bruises. Despite having a pretty dress on, she still felt far from fairest of them all. She wondered if Isabeth had any eye liner then found herself thinking about Roen’s eyes.

  “Was Roen out all night?”

  Working at braiding Eloryn’s hair, Isabeth tutted. “Well, there was hardly enough room here for all of us. He often stays in town when he works late. Did he tell you he is assistant to one of the most successful businessmen in Maerranton? He’s always been lucky, in his way. An unexpected gift he was, when we didn’t intend to...” Isabeth cleared her throat. She shifted on her feet, pausing awkwardly. “You know, Roen was just a toddler when we heard Loredanna was with child. We had hoped it would be a girl for him to play with and look after. But then, well… Then we hoped there’d be a child alive at all.”

  Apart from her very first answer, Isabeth directed everything she said to the princess. I might as well be invisible. She’s been setting them up since before Eloryn was even born.

  “You said before, you had reason to believe I lived. Please tell me how?” asked Eloryn.

  “It’s not a pleasant story, love.”

  “I would still like to know, please.”

  Isabeth tugged at her thin fingers then sat down on the corner of the bed. “After Thayl struck Caermaellan castle, we had our wizard send us through a Veil door to your mother’s estate, to warn her.”

  Eloryn slipped down onto the edge of the bed beside Isabeth, shaking her head. “Estate?”

  “Lady Loredanna stayed at her country home, just across the mountains here, during the last months of her pregnancy. I don’t know how much you know, but your mother wasn’t happy after her marriage. She lived there as much as she could, isolated from the court, her husband, even her closest friends.”

  “I don’t think Alward knew my mother much at all, not in person. But he said... are you sure she hadn’t gone back to the castle?”

  Isabeth’s skin wrinkled around her face into a frown and her hand covered her mouth. “Oh, love. We found her at the estate. We were too late. She was already dead, surrounded by the bodies of every other man and woman from her staff. They must have tried to protect her. I don’t know what happened. They were all out in the forest... But Loredanna was no longer with child and there was no baby among the dead. We knew there had been a younger member of the Wizards’ Council at the estate, Pellaine - yes, Alward - who also couldn’t be found. That is all we knew. That was enough to let us hope he got you away to safety.”

  Eloryn squinted as if she’d been slapped. “I know of the estate you mean. The children from the village called it a ghost house. It was close to where we lived, within walking distance, but Alward never said... I thought she was with my father when...”

  Memory watched silently. Turns out I’m not the only one who didn’t know everything. Something seemed to pull from the inside of her chest like a magnet, as though she should do something - hug Eloryn, say some comforting words - but nothing she could think of seemed natural.

  Isabeth patted Eloryn’s hand consolingly. It looked as awkward as Memory felt. “I wish you could have known your mother. You are so much of her! In Faerbaird castle we had a portrait of Lady Loredanna from her coronation, when she wasn’t much older than you are now. She wore the crested medallion in that portrait, the one you dropped in front of Roen. Mind you take better care of it from now on.”

  Eloryn moved her mouth, and it took a moment for her voice to find its way out. “Do you still have her portrait? I’d like to see my mother.”

  “I’m so sorry. There have been times we’ve had to run, and it was lost. Still it served its purpose.” Isabeth gave her a knowing half smile. “Had Roen not grown up besotted with the lady in the painting, he might not have spotted the medallion so easily.”

  A clatter of plates brought their attention to the door. Roen’s cheeks were noticeably red when he pushed through.

  He brought in a silver tray laid out with bread and dry fruit and placed it on the dresser next to Memory. He seemed on edge and didn’t even look at her.

  Roen walked over and whispered to Isabeth, then bowed to Eloryn and backed out of the room. Even if helping me isn’t important to them, at least they’re feeding me. Without a thought to politeness, Memory grabbed a bread roll, stuffing large chunks in her mouth. Her stomach was a roaring pit of hunger. The absence of coffee dismayed her. She could really do with some coffee.

  Isabeth excused herself and followed Roen.

  “Are you going to eat any of this?” Memory asked Eloryn. There wasn’t a lot of food, and while her stomach hurt less, she could easily keep eating. She eyed the entire platter with a lusting hunger.

  “Please, quiet,” Eloryn whispered. She stared intently at the curtain screen between the rooms. Over her chewing, Memory hadn’t noticed the hushed, serious tones of the conversation coming from the living area.

  “Are you eavesdropping?” Memory whispered back around a mouthful of bread. “What are they saying? They aren’t going to make me go, are they?”

  Eloryn paled.

  They are. They’re going to kick me out. Memory couldn’t make out any clear words, only quiet mumbling. It couldn’t be worse than what she imagined they were saying. Looking at the green tint to Eloryn’s skin, Memory bit her lip. Nope, worse, and no
t even about me. When has anyone been that worried about me?

  “No,” Eloryn gasped and bolted out into the living area. Memory followed on her heels, grabbing the last bread roll on the way past.

  Chapter Nine

  Roen’s body shivered in an ongoing tremble he couldn’t control. He was exhausted, but he often worked all night and it never left him like this. Why am I so anxious? His father looked grave, but smiled at Roen and patted him on the shoulder.

  After the entire night spent listening in, seeking gossip and spying, Roen explained to his parents what he saw in town during the dark hours of morning. He’d finally managed to bring his parents something of such value it could change their hard lives. Pride mixed with bitter anxiety at the news he now delivered.

  The princess burst through the curtain from the bedroom with a look on her face that made Roen shake harder. He gripped his hands together to still them.

  Isabeth tried to herd the girls back into the bedroom. Eloryn ducked past her, straight to where Roen and his father were sitting at the table. They cut off their conversation.

  “It’s not true. He couldn’t be,” Eloryn insisted.

  Roen turned to his father, not sure how to respond. Brannon shook his head in the smallest of movements.

  Eloryn came to a stop in the middle of the room, her chest rising and falling from sharp breaths. “No secrets, please. I know what you said, but you must be wrong. They couldn’t have caught him. Couldn’t have!”

  “Princess, I’m sorry. I saw him myself.” Roen’s muscles still ached from the strain of moving unseen and unheard to get as close as he could to Alward’s cell. But all he could do was watch, blocked by too many guards and gates locked by magic instead of mechanisms that would click open for his fingers.

  “He is nearby? I have to go to him.” Eloryn headed toward the front door.

  With two huge steps Brannon moved in front of her. He held his only hand out in a calming gesture. “It is your safety that is most important, you know this.”

  Eloryn shook her head in a way that made her blonde hair shiver around her.

  Roen forced his words out, wishing there were some other messenger for this news. “Alward is alive, but they have poisons that block his magic and he is heavily guarded. The wizard hunters also had a good view of you both,” he said, looking from Eloryn to Memory. “They’re already heading back out to continue searching for you. Fifteen of them, some heading back into the forest, others onto the roadways. The rest have begun searching houses and farms around Maerranton.”

  Isabeth dropped into a nearby seat as though her legs had been cut out from under her. “They won’t be safe here, will they?”

  Brannon shook his head. “We need to get Eloryn away from here, as fast as possible.”

  “And yourselves,” Roen added. “They are Thayl’s men. You can’t risk them recognizing you if they come this way.”

  “No.” Eloryn eyed the door, hysteria in her eyes. “No, I can’t leave Alward.”

  Brannon stood as a barrier between her and the exit. “There’s no doubt Thayl will come to see Alward himself, to be sure who it is. Once he is sure, he’ll do everything he can to find you. Did Alward have somewhere else for you to go, to someone else he trusted?”

  “He considered at times going to others from the Wizards’ Council-”

  “There are others still alive?”

  “But we never did. I don’t know where to find them on my own. We were meant to go to our other home on Rhynn together, to be safe there. What must I do to get him back? I have to do something to free him.”

  “Lory, that doesn’t sound like a good idea. Not if that Thayl guy might be coming. Remember the part about him being a crazy person?” Memory mumbled from the back of the room.

  Brannon’s voice flooded over Memory’s. “It’s not what Alward would want, nor will we let you try. You’re too precious to be lost taking such a risk.”

  Doubt and denial showed clear on Eloryn’s face.

  Brannon rubbed his eyebrows for a moment then spoke again, his voice smooth and comforting. “We will do everything we can to have Alward freed. There are local resistance fighters we can call on. They will be better fitted for the job, readier for such a task. Leave this to us.”

  Roen raised his eyebrows at his father’s words. They hadn’t been in contact with the resistance since the warring ended and they went into hiding, over a decade ago. “And what of Eloryn?”

  “We’ll send her to Lanval.” Brannon nodded to his son, and Roen recognized the look of warning on his face. “If any of the Wizards’ Council still survives, he’ll be the best chance of finding them.” Brannon turned to Eloryn, bending down to look her straight in the eye. “Duke Lanval is an old friend. He is trusted and well connected. It is wisest that you go to him now, understand?”

  She nodded obediently, a tear dropping to the floor with the tilting of her head. Roen found himself on his feet, one hand wrapped tight around the backrest of the chair. His father had the sort of tone it was hard to say no to, the tone of a duke, last remnant of his lost nobility. To see it used on the Princess in this way lit a rebellious fire within Roen. He breathed deeply to cool it down. After all, Father is right. We can’t let Eloryn go after Alward. Who am I to judge his lies? There was nothing they could do.

  Brannon straightened back up. “Then you leave right away.”

  Eloryn turned so quickly to Memory it made her jump. “You’ll come with me?”

  “Err, yeah, of course,” Memory muttered. Being included in the conversation left her looking dumbfounded.

  “Can’t we go with them?” said Isabeth.

  “Too many of the wrong people in the Duke’s court still know our faces,” Brannon said.

  “But the Princess…” Isabeth looked stricken.

  “Roen visits the Duke often, he knows the way. He’ll do his best to get her there safely.” Brannon gave his decision without a look to his son for confirmation. His tone sounded more disappointed than trusting.

  Roen cleared his throat, worried the tightness in it would taint his voice. He handed his father a piece of paper. “You and Mother must leave as soon as possible too. Go to the inn at this address. Ask for Scarlett, she’ll make sure you aren’t found.”

  Brannon took the address and everyone began to move. Roen let out a lungful of air. He hadn’t really expected a thank you. He was happy at least that Brannon had the grace not to ask who Scarlett was. Of all the sons in the family, he knew he wouldn’t have been their choice to be the only one they had left. It was the simple fact of what he was that meant he could never be enough. What they would think of me if they also knew what I did to make a living...

  Eloryn sniffled and drifted back into the bedroom. Memory hovered while Brannon and Isabeth rushed about preparing to leave. Roen threw a pack over his arm, stuffed it with a change of clothing and considered what else he might need. Still in his work clothes from the day before, he had most necessary items on him already and had few other belongings worth taking. It wouldn’t take long to escort the Princess to Duke Lanval’s. Once he got her there they would find someone fitter for the task of protecting the Maellan heir. Heading to the kitchen for food, he met his mother, who pressed a small jar of ointment into his hands.

  He smiled at her from below pinched eyebrows. “Mother, my shoulder’s fine now.”

  “You know you’ve got no healing behests to sort it out if it acts up on you again. Take it.” Isabeth pushed it into his hands. “Look after her well. One day, maybe she’ll be Queen, and remember the help we’ve given her.” For a moment she looked over her son’s face, her expression split between a frown and a smile. She left to join Eloryn and Brannon in the living room.

  Ready to leave, Eloryn wore her satchel with the strap diagonally across her chest, tucked tight under one arm as he had shown her. Roen’s lips twitched.

  Shuffling out of the way, Memory backed into the kitchen and bumped into Roen. They both watched I
sabeth wrap her arms around Eloryn in a strong embrace.

  Memory tilted her head. “Don’t you get one too?”

  Roen whispered into Memory’s ear. “I think we all know who is most important here.”

  Her eyes narrowed shiftily. “Me, right? Is it me? Yep. Definitely me.” Memory lifted one corner of her lips into a cheeky smile which he returned.

  His parents took their lightly packed bags and they all headed out the back doorway of the cottage. They knew how to pack for this risk, taking only essentials and a few identifying heirlooms and leaving their home so it didn’t appear to have been fled in a hurry. With luck, the hunters would not come this way. Or if they did, they would find nothing suspicious and move on, and he could find his parents and bring them home in just a few days. And return to...? The question made his chest ache and he shook it off.

  Brannon took Roen’s hand and held it firmly. “Get her to the Duke’s quickly. Don’t let us down, son.”

  Isabeth fussed, brushing back Eloryn’s hair from her face. “Be safe, and watch out for fairy rings.”

  Roen nodded a goodbye to his parents, and they headed separate ways.

  Following Roen, Memory put on her best impersonation of hope. Lanval sounded like someone powerful, someone with connections who knew other wizards, so maybe he would be able to help her as well. Because everyone’s been falling over themselves to help me so far.

  Roen led them along a dirt track through the tall, untended crops. He turned his head continually, watching all around them.

  Memory’s legs ached and moved like rusty robotics, unhappy from their overuse. Beside her, Eloryn seemed to be struggling just as much with hers. She chewed on her bottom lip. Also failing at being hopeful, perhaps.

  Memory nudged her with an elbow. “You ‘K?”

  “Sorry?”

  “Don’t worry. They’ll sort things out, with Alward. Maybe the resistance guys will free him and he’ll meet us at this Duke’s place?”