“I hardly kept it from you. Had you been at all co-operative with the Council I’m sure you’d have known. I don’t have time to tell you every little detail myself.” Eloryn became flustered. “You know how full my time is. It must be nice spending your time frivolously, dressing up like a boy and lounging about eating pastries, but some of us have duties that must be performed.”
“Duties my ass. Don’t go getting angry at me because you’re jealous I’m spending more time with Roen. It’s not your duties stopping you spending time with him, it’s you.”
Eloryn’s mouth shut, and her back straightened like she’d taken a huge breath and held it.
Memory made a show of picking the last pastry from her plate and popping it in her mouth as she stood to leave. “I’ll skip lunch, thanks. I’ve already eaten.”
Memory paced in her chambers. A grandfather clock in the corner read a quarter past six, and she fretted that she wasn’t going to make it to the Ivy Room for a second time. Not that Will hadn’t missed more than his fair share of meet ups.
Memory knew the minute she stepped out of her chambers her new guard escort would be on her heels again, and she didn’t exactly want to take all of them with her to her secret place. She briefly considered opening a Veil door to get there, but it seemed like overkill, and scary, especially when her magic still felt so unstable.
Memory opened her balcony doors, hoping Will would just come to her. But he hadn’t, not since her birthday, not even when she missed their meet up for the first time last night. He probably didn’t make it himself and hadn’t even noticed.
The sun was setting, and being on the eastern side of the castle, the shadows were already dark and cold. Memory brushed a hand over a blood-red rose bud on the vines around the balcony. The tower that led to the Ivy Room was right near her chambers, and one of the windows on her side was open. The vines grew across to it, but much more thinly than the way they rambled up to her window.
Memory knew it was dangerous, but something inside her didn’t care, almost dared her to try. She quickly changed into her jeans and t-shirt and stepped onto the balcony edge. A brief glimpse down at the ground shook her, and coldly she wondered how Thayl must have felt, as he fell.
She reached across and grabbed a strong ivy vine stuck on the wall, grateful that the ivy had grown further and faster than the roses, so her hands wouldn’t get cut up this time. Clinging to the vine, she stepped out onto the small ledge that ran from her balustrade across to the tower window. Edging along it, she kept herself stable and upright with the vines. It was easier than she thought it would be.
The vines grew thinner as she went. Just a few steps from the window, one of them tore under her hand. The vine pulled off the wall like tape, tearing a long strip off before it snapped. Memory swung backwards, her other hand slipping from where it still held a vine. Her center of gravity pulled away from the wall. She tumbled.
With a push of her legs, she jumped through the open window and landed inside the tower.
Memory sat on the floor in the Ivy Room. She was barely aware of how she’d made it there from where she’d landed on the tower steps. She still felt in shock, replaying what would have happened if anything had gone differently, if she fell. No one would have known what happened. She wondered how long it would have taken for her to be found, or missed, or who would miss her first.
Memory rubbed the goose-bumps on her arms and her breath blew puffs of mist. Will hadn’t shown up yet. She stood up to see how long she’d been waiting. The clock tower across the courtyard read nine o’clock. Memory blinked. She could tell she’d been sitting there a while based on how numb her legs had gone, but hadn’t realized it was so late. Will wasn’t coming. He’d broken their promise, again. He’d probably be the last person to miss her if she was gone. She was about to leave when the vines rustled.
Will pushed through and half stumbled into a dark corner. Even in the low light, he looked dirty, and the shirt she had got for him was missing.
He shifted, and seemed surprised to see her standing there, staring at him.
“I didn’t think you were coming. Do you know what time it is? I know you haven’t got a watch, but there’s this ginormous clock, like, right there,” Memory said, flinging an arm out to point at the clock tower.
“Sorry,” he said. He stayed curled in the corner, seeming shyer than usual.
Memory’s gaze kept returning to Will’s bare chest, and the ripples of muscle just visible in the darkness. She should be used to him being topless by now, but the act of having seen him in a shirt seemed to highlight the bareness now it was gone.
“And what happened to your shirt?” she asked.
“Got ruined.”
“If you didn’t want it in the first place you should have just said.” Just like our promise for meeting here every day, Memory thought. He’d probably made that promise thinking of how she used to be, wanting to see the old her, not who she was now.
Memory sat down again across from Will and sighed.
“I’m sorry I’m being snippy. There’s just so much going on, and I feel like I’m losing it. Seriously, seeing things style losing it. It’s hard enough trying to fit in around here without being crazy.”
“It’s okay. You’re not snippy. You’re honest.” Will spoke softly, barely a mumble. “You can tell me what’s happening.”
You can’t let anybody know about me. Promise me you won’t tell. Memory bit her lip. She couldn’t tell him about Hope. The bombing, Waylan, even what happened on her way there tonight, it all felt like too much to put into words.
“It’s just confusing, all this crap with me and Roen and Lory. I mean, I’m just friends with Roen, and Eloryn barely even acknowledges the poor guy’s existence anymore, but I’m supposed to feel bad for spending time with him? We’re just good friends.”
Will grunted but said nothing else. It was so dark Memory couldn’t see any expression on his face. She could barely see him at all in the dark corner he sat in. She might as well be telling her woes to the empty corner.
“Oh hey, check out my new mojo.” Memory spoke the words to the light behest, remembering she could actually do that now. “Àlaich las.”
A small wisp cast a glow in the room, its light shining off the glossy leaves that enclosed them.
The light also reflected off wet blood on Will’s arm, which he kept pressure on with his other hand.
“Jeezus. What happened? Why didn’t you say something?”
“It’s nothing.” Will turned his head away, like he was embarrassed to have been seen.
Memory crawled across the floor to him. Up close, she saw there were also fresh scratches on his chest, torn over much older scars.
“Is it bad? Damn, it looks bad.”
Will didn’t reply or move. Memory grabbed his chin in her hand and turned his face back toward her.
“I’m not kidding around, Will. Tell me what happened.”
Will growled. “Just hunters, in the forest. An accident.”
“Hunters in the forest?” Memory lifted a hand to her face in disbelief. “It’s the royal goddamn hunting grounds. Why didn’t I realize there would be hunting? Will, you shouldn’t be out there. I’m going to put a ban on hunting, but you’ve got to move into the palace. I know I’ve asked before, but maybe now you’ve been shot by a damn arrow you might have to admit I’m right.”
“Can’t.”
“Of course you can.”
“No,” he said firmly.
“Why? So you can stay closer to Mina? Is she why you won’t live in the castle?”
Will didn’t answer. His eyebrows were low over his eyes and his jaw set.
Memory moaned in frustration. “At least, let me heal you? You can’t be running around in the dirt with a hole in your arm.”
Will shook his head. “Better not.”
Memory poked his arm, right above the wound. “Really?”
Will flinched away. She poked him again.
“All right!”
“I thought so.”
Memory moved in closer to Will. He kept his eyes on her and remained still. Memory could smell the blood on him, mixed with mossy earth. She placed one hand on his forehead and one on his muscled chest. Her heart hiccupped.
Memory cleared her throat, but her voice still cracked. “Okay, here we go.”
Memory tried to make a connection like she had when she healed Eloryn. In her mind she ran through the theory of healing, but nothing happened. She took her hands back and shook them, then rubbed them together like they needed charging up. Trying again, still nothing worked. The only person she’d ever healed before was Eloryn, her twin. In magic, like calls to like, so healing her twin was easy. Maybe she wasn’t skilled enough or focused enough to heal anyone else.
“I don’t think I can do it.”
“I thought you were supposed to be all powerful at this stuff?”
Will’s tone was gentle, joking, but in Memory’s fragile state the words stung.
“Why don’t you just go back to your fairy lover and get her to fix it for you? And while you’re there you can report back to her about me and my lack of ability. That’s what you’re supposed to do, isn’t it? Spy on me and tell her what I’m up to?”
“Do you really think that’s why I’m here?” Will’s voice remained stable and soft, infuriating Memory even more. “I don’t report back to them. They don’t need me to. They keep track of what you do themselves.”
“Then why are you here? You only show up when you feel like it.”
Will pushed to his feet and Memory backed up, out of his way and stood up as well. He looked hurt, but he still didn’t raise his voice. “You haven’t tried to understand what my life is like, has been like. You just expect me to fit into yours. You’re here a month, and you’re a princess. I’ve been here a lot longer, and some things… can’t just change. It’s too complicated. It’s easy for you, but I can’t be what you want.”
“You think things have been easy for me? If you were around you’d know they aren’t.” Memory was nearly crying, but the reckless energy of her sadness found its way to her voice instead and she screamed at Will. “How am I supposed to understand your life when you’re never around, never tell me anything. You didn’t even tell me you’d been shot by hunters! You haven’t even tried. Just go back to your fairies.”
Memory tore the vines away and ran along the old castle wall back to the tower, not caring how close she came to the edge.
She sprinted down the tower steps, round and round, grazing her elbow against the wall in her rush, trying to expend all of her emotions in physical form. The fires in her chest burned bright hot. A rumble built within her. She ran hard, trying to escape herself.
She stumbled out into the eastern entrance yard, having blindly made wrong turns and run too far. She bent over, her hands on her knees, to catch her breath.
Hayes’s voice reached her, and she ducked back through the doorway again. She loathed the idea of him seeing her like this, running wild and dressed in otherworld clothes. Marching feet and another man’s voice, crying accusations and pleas, passed by right in front of her. Peering out, she saw her uncle, Ewain, being lead bound and under armed escort toward the main keep. The guards wore a strange uniform, something new that Memory hadn’t seen before. The symbol of the Wizard’s Council, a stylized mouth with a star inside, was embroidered on the sleeves.
“I did nothing. These are lies.” Ewain spoke to Hayes, to the guards around him, trying to get the attention of anyone but no one responded. “I wanted the twins off the throne, of course I did. But I have no army in my control, and I’d be a fool to attempt their assassination! I only voiced my wish to remove them from power because it is the right thing to do. They’re an abomination, a corruption of the Maellan line. My brother and Loredanna never consummated their marriage.”
Memory found herself running toward the small group, and she skidded to a stop on the gravel right in front of her uncle. “What are you talking about?”
Hayes stepped between them, putting his hands on Memory’s shoulders. She flung them away.
“Princess, what are you doing out here at this hour? This is no time-” he began.
“What is he talking about? Tell me.”
Memory couldn’t see Ewain behind Hayes blocking her way, but she could hear him.
“My brother wasn’t your father. He told me your whore mother never opened to him.”
Hayes turned and hit Ewain across the face with the back of his hand. “How dare you speak of the beloved Loredanna like that. For such disrespect, I’ll make what is ahead for you all the more worse.”
Hayes clicked his fingers and the guards picked the man up, dragging him up the stairs into the building.
Memory chased after them, half jogging to keep pace. “Then who? Who was my father?”
“As if you don’t know.” The prisoner spat at her feet.
Thayl? The burning inside her, already alight, roared and her vision blurred, the world flashing grey. The idea crumpled Memory’s heart. So much was wrong, everything about their lives broken from start to end. She thought Thayl had just been some sick father-figure in her life. Did I watch my real father die? Did I cause it?
“No, you have to tell me more, I need to know for sure.” Memory tripped as she tried to keep up and keep talking to Ewain. She yelled at the guards. “Stop. Stop walking. I order you to stop!”
They continued. Hayes paused briefly to look down his hooked nose at her. “You have no authority here. These men are under my orders, as Grand Bailiff I am in control. Do not listen to this lunatic. He is lying, trying to sow the seeds of mistrust to weaken you and your sister. You must not tell anyone of this fabrication. Go back to bed, princess. The truth will be revealed under duress.”
Memory shook her head, incredulous, and followed the group down the stairs into the dungeon. The rooms on the first level looked different to the last time Memory had been through there. Vicious contraptions filled the space, and the tables were laid out with all manner of unkind tools. Memory clutched her chest, wringing her t-shirt in her hands, the heat inside her torso unbearable. The room shifted, contorted. It became beige walls in a small space, tall shelves on either side filled with plastic chemical bottles. Shelves with knives, pliers, hooks. The back wall had mops propped up in a messy pile. The back wall had chains hanging down, manacles on the ends. The floor was wet and smelled of detergent. The floor was stone, rough, spotted red.
Memory didn’t know what was happening.
She didn’t know where she was.
She ran.
Chapter 14
Roen sat up in bed and rubbed his face. He could have sworn he just saw Memory step through his room. The way she used to look, in her strange otherworldly clothes, but her hair was its current natural blonde. She seemed distressed, careening past then blinking out of existence.
He pushed the covers back and grabbed the pants and shirt he’d worn that day. He tugged them on, not bothering with shoes in his rush to leave the room. He might have just been imagining things, but it shook him up so much he thought he better check on Memory to be sure. He hadn’t been able to sleep anyway.
The chambers he and his parents had been housed in were smaller guest quarters just downstairs from the old royal chambers Memory and Eloryn were in. Given the time of night Roen was grateful it wasn’t far to go.
Up the stairs in the corridor leading to the twin’s rooms, Roen was surprised at the complete absence of guards. He assumed Eloryn was working late in the queen’s office as she often did. Maybe Memory also wasn’t in her room, but he still went to check. No guards meant no gossip, for which he was grateful.
Roen knocked at Memory’s door and heard whimpering and the rattling of furniture. He pushed the handle and it clicked open, so he slid inside. Armchairs and desks were tipped over throughout the sitting room, and the floor seemed to tremble under him. He pushed through u
rgently into Memory’s bedchamber.
The room was dark, but he could see Memory curled against the far wall, between her bed and a knocked down wardrobe. Tussled gowns tumbled out around her like she was a castaway in a sea of lace.
She muttered to herself, shivering. She flickered in and out of sight.
The wall behind her had cracked and grout shook from it when the room trembled again.
By the fae, what is happening?
Roen knelt beside Memory and brought her into his arms. At first she pushed back, her hands in fists, rigid around her folded iron knife. He held her tighter.
“Mem, it’s me, it’s okay,” he said, using the word she’d taught him.
She dropped the knife and grasped at him, pulling in close.
The tremors stopped. Was she causing them?
Memory cried hard in his arms. She mumbled into his shoulder, the words jumbled and incomprehensible. Memory always seemed on the verge of both laughter and tears at any moment, but he’d never seen her like this. He could make no sense of what was happening.
Roen ran his hand over her hair, trying to calm her, reassure her. He kissed her softly on the forehead.
Memory jerked away and looked up at him. Her eyes were fierce and questioning. With a sob, she leaned in and kissed him hard on the lips. She pressed her body into his and he tasted the salt of her tears.
The kiss was so desperate Roen didn’t dare push her away, and it stirred confusing feelings in him.
Roen knew he loved Eloryn. He knew it since the morning in his family’s old ramshackle home, when she’d charged in, interrupting his father, demanding to know the fate of her guardian. Seeing so much affection and bravery changed something in his heart, and he was hers. He still longed for her, dreamed of her, but he had no hope to ever be with her.
Memory meant so much to him. She was a summer storm, with passion and intensity that awed him and at the same time she was the flower caught within that storm. He would do anything for her.
Memory’s lips broke away from Roen’s, and she buried her face in his chest. He held her on his lap until she fell asleep, leaving him with nothing but questions.
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