“What’s the secret password?” came the reply, followed by giggling.
Eloryn frowned. “I don’t know the secret password, but I am your sister. Who else would be knocking at our adjoining door?”
“The correct answer was ‘Not by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin,’ but come in anyway.”
All anger fled Eloryn when she walked in on her sister trying on clothes in the middle of her sitting room. She looked as if she had been struggling to put on a pair of boy’s trousers that were still around her ankles, the rest of her covered in a shirt that was far too large. Clara lounged in a nearby arm-chair, red-faced from barely suppressed laughter.
“Mem,” Eloryn began, slowly stepping into the room. “What in Avall are you doing?”
Memory paused for a moment and then laughed.
“Clara got them for me. Ugh, so many buttons.” Memory did a twirl when she finished putting the trousers on. “What do you think?”
“I think I’m confused and a little concerned for my sister?”
“It’s an idea me and Roen came up with. I was all ‘I’m gonna zap myself into a boy,’ and he was all ‘it’d be easier to just dress like one’ and I was all ‘duh, Mem!’ and then here we are!”
Eloryn tilted her head. “You… want to be a boy?”
“Sort of, yeah. Just so I can attend the classes that I want, and not attend the ones I don’t. Roen’s enrolling me as one of his brothers, Tristan. He said he had so many brothers people would assume one had just come out of the woodwork. As Tristan I’ll be able to learn whatever I want.” Memory looked genuinely enthusiastic as she worked on tucking her shirt in. “And Memory will be unwell for a while and unable to attend her lame girly classes.”
Clara wheezed a squeaky laugh. “You should tell the teachers you’re having women’s problems.”
Is this all just a joke to them? Eloryn wanted to be supportive of her sister, but Memory was making it hard. Eloryn had no way out, no freedom to skip the classes she’d been assigned. Even if she wouldn’t be missed, she had a duty to make her appearance, to do and be seen to do her part. Who was being supportive to her, the sacrifices she was making? Her next words took on a spiteful tone that she didn’t like. “And why are you getting dressed out here? If you did so in your bath or bed chamber where there are some mirrors you’d see you’ve got that shirt on inside out.”
Clara burst into tearful laughter and hid her head in a cushion, as though she’d just been waiting for someone else to notice.
Memory frowned and shrugged. “I’m a bit over seeing myself at the moment.”
Memory pulled off the shirt and mock-whipped Clara with it while standing in just a bodice and trousers. “You, Giggles McLaughsalot, these shirts are way oversized. How big do you think I am?”
“You’re just a teeny tiny little thing.” Clara got up and headed to the door, still chuckling. “I’ll go and see if I can find something smaller, but I’m really not sure any of the men I know are quite that small. Alack, now she’s making me steal clothing from boys!”
Memory pointed sternly at the exit. “Just walk away before I make a comeback so awesome it will explode you.”
The door closed after Clara and Memory looked at Eloryn, her expression changing from mirth to concern.
“Okay. What’s up, Lory? We were just having a bit of fun, but I am serious about doing this. I should be able to learn what I want to learn.” Memory sat down in front of her and Eloryn took a seat as well.
“I know. I’m sorry.” She paused, lowering her head. “I’m simply tired and upset. It’s been such a long day, and I just bumped into Hayes. He told me he’s received intelligence that our uncle is plotting to amass an army against us, to make his claim on Caermaellan.”
Memory stood back up again. “What? No way! Why would somebody do that? After all this place has been through?”
“Power is the worst kind of motivator. There is no sense to what it makes people do.” Eloryn stood up as well and started pacing, fidgeting her fingers. “I just… I feel like if I could speak with our uncle I could make things right, but Hayes says he’s refusing to even see me. He says we need to act aggressively to show a firm hand and stop any voices of dissent against us or the Council.”
Memory looked as overwhelmed as Eloryn felt. “I’m sorry. I had no idea you were dealing with stuff like this. What are you going to do?”
“For now, I’m going to keep sending requests for a meeting. But everyone is pushing me to take a firmer stance. There are just so many decisions to make and changes to oversee.” She’d been queen for not even a week and it already wore her down more than she wanted to admit. “I appreciate everyone’s opinions and advice, and Hayes has been so helpful to me, but I worry that he’s too aggressive when it comes to diplomatic policy. He wants to have more control over the courts and sentencing, to catch and question conspirators and stop issues like this from arising.”
Memory frowned as she picked up another shirt and started buttoning it on. It was slightly smaller than the last men’s shirt, but masses of excess fabric still draped over her small frame.
“Hayes seems to be taking on a hell of a lot of responsibilities. You know, I don’t trust the guy. He outright said to me that ruling isn’t a woman’s job. I feel like you’re giving away too much power to a man we don’t actually know that much about.”
“He’s just trying to ease my burdens.”
“Then why is it taking so long for him to establish the proper government instead of taking all those burdens on himself? Hayes might seem like he’s looking after you, but he’s not Alward. It’s like Hayes is trying to step in and take Alward’s place, but you can’t assume Hayes has your best interests at heart.”
Alward’s name felt like a slap to Eloryn’s face. Hayes could never replace Alward. They were nothing alike. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t look to him for guidance. Eloryn straightened her back and stopped pacing. “I have to trust Hayes and my other advisors to take on some responsibilities. I have to delegate to get things done. And who would you rather have in power? Some noble who we’ve never even met? Neither of us know who we can truly trust in this time, but at least with the Council we know that they support us for rule and are doing as much as they can to help us, even if Hayes’s behavior may seem firm at times.”
“And you’re not worried at all about the Council running everything?” Memory kept pushing, but Eloryn had run out of any energy. Her reply had no attitude, just honest curiosity.
“Do you think you could do a better job, Mem?”
Memory pouted, looking at the ceiling. “Not right now. But maybe one day, if I learned about the right things. That’s what this is all about,” she said, tugging at her trousers. “They don’t even want me to have the chance to be able to do it.”
“That may be so, but I’ve had all the training and teaching I’ll need for a lifetime from Alward, but only experience can teach me who I can actually trust. That isn’t something you can learn at school.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Memory conceded, standing to leave. “But at least I can admit that I do have a lot more to learn, and I’m doing something about it. There’s also something to be said for instinct, and it sounds like you’re ignoring the heck out of yours.” Memory grabbed a bag from a table and strapped it across herself, then loaded it with bread rolls from a tray nearby. “I’m going to see Will.”
Eloryn raised an eyebrow. “Dressed like that?”
Memory looked down at herself. “Sure. Will doesn’t care what I wear.” She paused, as if considering something. “I might pop by to see Roen on the way, to get his approval on my costume. Want to come? I think he was sad you didn’t stay after the fencing.”
Eloryn’s hand went to her neckline and wrapped around her jade pendant. She took a moment to compose herself, to give the answer she should instead of the one she wanted. “No, that’s probably not a good idea.”
Memory sighed audibly. “When will it
be a good idea? Why are you avoiding him?”
“It’s just… easier this way.”
“Look, Lory, I know you’re shy, but you have to get over it.” Memory paused at the door on her way out, thoughtful for a moment. She put a bowler hat on then turned back again. “I can tell you two make each other giddy around the knees, but do you really think he’s going to wait forever? You saw the girls at fencing. I don’t see how it’s going to be easier for you when you see him in the arms of someone else.”
Grateful to be in pants instead of a massive gown, Memory climbed out the tower window onto the old castle walls. She looked forward to seeing Will. They’d dubbed their meeting place the Ivy Room. Our secret place. My safe place. The thought made her smile. She gazed out over the battlements at the view of the city in the distance, a grey forest of steeples and smoking chimneys. Swallows swooped around her chasing tiny insects in the waning light. The temperature chilled quickly as the sun dropped. It was fresh, and despite having an emotionally draining day, Memory was in a good mood.
Until her path was blocked by Hope, standing right in front of her.
Memory stopped and blinked a couple of times, trying to rid herself of this vision of how she used to be. When it refused to vanish, she forged on ahead, hoping it would just fade away. It didn’t.
Hope followed closely beside Memory as she marched along the ramparts.
“I wouldn’t bother. He’s not there.”
Memory ignored her.
“I said Will’s not showing. He’s off with his fairy friends.”
Memory put her fingers in her ears and hummed, looking the other way. Hope grabbed her hands and tugged them out, shocking Memory at her tangible touch.
“Stop being so childish!”
“You’re not real, go away.”
“Yeah, I am real.”
“I know the clothes you’re wearing are put away in my cupboard, so they’re not real at least.”
Hope gave an exasperated groan. “Really? My clothes are probably the least weird thing about my existence.”
“Fine, I’ll bite. What is the whole thing with your existence?” I ask a figment of my insanity. Break with reality - complete!
“I told you, I’m you. Not Memory you. I’m who you used to be.”
Memory shook her head. “Still not getting it.”
“It’s crazy, I know. The best I can figure is that I’m the missing parts of you. The bits that got lost when you cut off Thayl’s hand.”
“Right. So his brand new stump gave birth to you?”
“Of course it’s going to sound dumb when you say it like that. But all my, your, memories and soul, were caught up in all that magic, and ta-da, here I am.”
They arrived at the Ivy Room, and Memory lifted the leafy screen that concealed it.
And Hope was right. Will wasn’t there. This was the third day he’d missed meeting up already, and he had only dodged Memory’s questions about why.
“I’m not going to say ‘I told you so,’” Hope said.
“Just did.”
Memory sat down on one of the small benches and blew a raspberry. Hope sat on the seat opposite, her legs crossed the same way, looking so similar but different. The two watched each other, like sitting in front of a twisted carnival mirror. Memory realized the whole scene was creepy, but somehow it comforted her. If a magical ghost of her past self insisted on following her around, she might as well take advantage of the company. Part of her longed for Hope to be real, desperately curious to get to know who she used to be.
“I really wanted him to see,” Memory said softly.
“To see what? You dressed as a boy?” Hope scoffed.
“No, I wanted him to see you. For one thing it’d prove you’re real. And also, I thought that maybe he’d be happy to see you, to see the girl he waited so long for. He must be so disappointed. He finally found me, and I’m not that girl anymore. Not you. He doesn’t talk to me much, and he avoids touching me like I’m a leper or something. But if he saw you-”
“He can’t see me. You can’t let anybody know about me. Promise me you won’t tell.” Hope stood up, agitated, staring Memory in the eyes. “If you do, they’ll work out that your soul is broken. We don’t want that, do we? I want to be with you, and I bet you want to be with me too. We’re meant to be together, but it has to be our secret, just the two of us. Secret best friends, okay?”
Memory looked up at Hope. She was right. She couldn’t let anyone know how broken she was. “Okay.”
Come back, I can’t keep up.
Will ran ahead of her. Scrawny little boy version Will. So small, she should be able to keep up. Her legs glided in place, aching from effort, not moving anywhere.
Wait for me. Don’t leave me.
Wind gusted and slammed against her chest. Will got farther away, running down a long corridor of squeaky Formica and grimy beige walls. Memory called out again and realized her voice wasn’t working. The words just jangled in her head. Will was big now. Bare-chested, beast-like. How could such a small boy grow so big? The hallway stretched on forever, and Will ran out of view, so far away.
She checked in each of the small rooms she ran by, looking for him. All the rooms were the same. Her room from the children’s home. Wind swirled again, and her feet smacked the ground, finally able to move again, bare feet slapping on the artificial coating, slippery with water. She wasn’t alone.
The man up ahead of her now wasn’t Will.
He carried a mop and grinned at her. Memory reversed, smacking her back against a cart full of cleaning equipment. The janitor dropped the mop and came after her, saying something she couldn’t hear over the sound of rushing wind in her ears. Her feet skidded on the wet floor. Her body exploded with panic as she broke into a sprint, pushing past dangling tree roots, stumbling down stairs and around dark cavernous turns. The wide-set man remained just steps behind her, no matter the breakneck speed she moved at.
The janitor’s cart blocked her way, and she wondered how she’d done a complete loop. She slipped past it and came to a dead end, dark and rocky. Fumbling through the cart, all her instincts turned to self-preservation. She grabbed a box cutter and held it out.
The figure loomed in front of her like a giant made of nothing but shadow.
Memory awoke, sweating, half fallen out of her bed. She struggled to extract herself from tangled sheets, and her hand pressed against something sharp and stung fiercely.
Her knife lay on the sheets, spotted with blood dripping from the gash on her hand. The knife she’d left at the underground lake.
Did I really leave it there? Sleep hazed her thoughts. Maybe she didn’t. Maybe she just remembered wrong, and the knife had been here all along. Either that or some of the dream was real, and she’d Veil doored again without meaning to, this time in her sleep. But if some of the dream was real, how much of it and which parts?
Memory closed her knife and tucked it carefully under her pillow like it used to be. Wide eyed and sleepless, she slouched out of bed and into her bathroom. She washed her bleeding hand down in the sink with a sigh then looked up at herself in the mirror. Her shoulders shook as the image startled her. Some blonde girl in a lace-edged sleeping gown.
That’s me now, Memory reminded herself. She stared at the mirror, trying to hold onto what was real. But the lines between real and dream, new and old, tangled in her head.
Chapter 12
“I’m not sure I’m fooling anyone,” Memory said, walking out of her first class as Tristan. She felt at home in pants, but the stiff-collared coat, hat, and tie felt clunky and uncomfortable. Clara had even found her a wig of bowl-cut mousy brown hair for the disguise.
Roen walked beside her down the second floor hallway of the finishing school. The sun shone warmly in through the arched windows, disguising the fact the wind that buffeted the glass was brisk and chilled.
Roen stopped walking for a moment and made a show of eyeing her up and down. “I don’t know. I thin
k you make a fairly convincing boy, albeit a twelve-year-old one.”
Memory punched him playfully in the stomach. “Yeah and you’d make one pretty lady.”
“Watch it, Tristan. Don’t you know it’s wrong to hit girls?”
Memory started walking again, grinning back at Roen. The sunlight hit him from behind, making his golden hair glow. He really can be beautiful sometimes.
“Are you sure you don’t mind me using your brother’s name? I feel like I’m somehow shaming his legacy.”
“Not at all. It’s an honor, and I’m sure if Tristan were alive he’d be very fond of you. He was my closest brother, not in age, but in every other way.”
“Which one was closest in age?”
Roen looked away from her, out the windows at the treetops swaying in the wind, rasping against the glass. “We… don’t talk about him.”
“Oh, that one.”
Roen shook his head and when he looked at her again he was still smiling. He stopped at a door and bowed to her in a flourish. “Delivered safely to your next class.”
“You’re coming in with me, right?”
“Sorry, you’re on your own for this one. I’m not enrolled for magic classes.”
Memory looked at the floor. “Can you come in anyway? I’d really like someone I trust to be there. Given my history with magic, I’m…” Memory took a deep breath, her nerves shaking her up. Her magic was explosive at best. Even the only spell she could really cast, the Veil door, was going wonky on her. “I’m scared,” she admitted.
“You’ll be fine. Tristan is tough,” he said, reaching out for her hand and giving it a squeeze. “But Memory is even tougher.”
A group of girls walked past, giggling hysterically to see what appeared to be two boys holding hands in the hall. Roen and Memory looked at one another and laughed as well.
Memory's Wake Omnibus: The Complete Illustrated YA Fantasy Series Page 36