“I wouldn’t mind, if you wanted to come in.” Roen opened his door a little more.
To hear my plan, or…
Roen’s shirt was still only half buttoned, his hair mussed, and a sleepy smile on his lips. The whole look was undeniably sexy, and a flush of warmth ran down Memory’s back. Even if it started with planning, she didn’t think it would end there.
Memory gave herself a mental cold shower and pointed with a thumb at the guards watching from down the hall. “The walls have ears, and eyes, and great big gossipy mouths.”
“Your faithful protectors. I didn’t see them down there.” Roen nodded solemnly. Then a smirk cracked the expression and he grabbed Memory around the waist and pulled her two steps back into his room. Out of sight of the guards, he bent and gave her a long kiss on the corner of her lips, then let her go again.
“Sweet dreams, princess,” he said, and smiling cheekily, closed the door between them.
Memory touched the place he kissed her with her fingertips. He always used to call Eloryn ‘princess.’ Even without the risk of a scandal, Memory wasn’t sure she’d have gone in. She wasn’t sure what she wanted at all.
Late in the evening Memory left her quarters, telling her bodyguards that she wanted to go to the kitchens again for another culinary experiment.
“I’m going to cook up some doughnuts even if it takes me all night.”
Memory strolled into the hazy, clanging kitchens and frowned when one of her guards followed her in. A chef soon chased him back out again to wait at the entrance as he had last time. Memory smiled wickedly.
Dodging the cooks and kitchen hands, she made her way into one of the larger pantries and pulled the door closed behind her. On a shelf lay her boy’s clothes, delivered there earlier by Clara. Memory quickly wriggled out of her night gown and tailored robe and dressed in her Tristan disguise.
Memory stepped back out and grabbed a cupcake decorated in delicate sugar roses. She winked at one of the chefs who watched her, the one who’d helped her make burgers. He winked back in return and went on with his work. A couple of servants were leaving with silver trays of food and Memory slipped out of the kitchens with them, straight past her bodyguards who didn’t look at her twice.
The plan is rocking so far.
Memory had to resist the urge to skip, she felt so free. It was the first time for a while she wasn’t being trailed by burly soldiers. But skipping while dressed as a boy would probably draw too much attention.
When she reached the meeting point, Roen was there waiting for her.
He held up his hand, dangling a key on display.
Memory high-fived him. “Nice work. I hope it wasn’t too hard to get.”
“For me? It was a piece of cake.” Roen said, ducking past Memory and revealing her half-eaten cupcake stolen in his hands. She grabbed for it, but he popped it in his mouth.
Memory smiled, relieved Roen was in a good mood. She always thought his skills were something to be proud of. Maybe he didn’t mind so much anymore.
“The hardest part is next though. The old safe room is at the top of the western tower, but there’s a guard at the bottom of the stairs.” Memory pointed with her thumb around the corner to the arched doorway down the hall, blocked by its sentinel.
Roen looked quickly. “I could probably sneak through while he’s looking the other way. But getting us both through without a distraction could be difficult.”
Memory put a finger on her chin, pretending to think. “A distraction you say?”
Giggling fluttered down the hall to them, and they both peeked around the corner again. Clara leaned against the wall next to the guard. The maid’s uniform she wore was a size smaller than usual and the guard leaned in toward her. He stepped out of the doorway, sliding an arm around her waist.
Memory whispered dramatically, “The dove has taken position! Go, go, go!”
She dashed down the hallway, keeping as quiet as she could. She grimaced whenever her feet hit the ground, still sounding so loud. She expected the guard to hear her at any moment and started to reconsider her tactic. Memory couldn’t even hear Roen behind her and was worried he hadn’t followed when she made a run for it.
Roen’s hands wrapped around Memory’s waist and lifted her. She silently squealed. Carrying her, Roen slipped passed the guard without a sound. He put her down just up the stairs, out of sight around the spiraling column.
Standing a step up from him, they were nose to nose. Her heart raced and her face felt flushed.
Roen lifted his chin and looked up the stairwell. Memory nodded and they continued to the top. A small antechamber opened up, revealing a massive door of solid metal, bronze banding and studs reinforcing its strength. To each side, further apart than a normal human could reach, were two keyholes.
Memory pulled Bedevere’s key from her pocket and Roen took his, and they turned them in the lock simultaneously.
Gears clicked and rolled, and with a push, the door swung open. The room was small, just enough to fit a couple of tight rows of bookshelves and tables which overflowed with badly sorted and stacked volumes.
Memory punched the air with a silent woot. “That all went surprisingly easily! Let’s grab these notes and get back out before that poor guard proposes to Clara and has his heart broken.”
Roen pushed the door closed until it was just slightly ajar. He threw Memory the second key, and she pocketed them together, then they went seeking Alward’s documents where Waylan’s letter had said he left them.
“Which ones are they?” Roen asked, stepping over stacks of books on the ground. The room smelled of powdery paper.
Memory had made her way to the back and stared dumbfounded at the table there. Papers, Waylan had called them. Notes. What she had imagined as a journal or two to snatch and run with turned out to be crates full of hand-bound tomes stacked one atop another amid mountains of loose leaf parchment and scrolls.
Memory blew out a sigh. “We might have a problem.”
“They can’t all be his, surely,” Roen suggested, whispering.
Memory checked through some of the unsorted papers and books that were strewn amongst the more regimented ones. All had the same handwriting, the same topics, same style to the scratchy diagrams. Sixteen years’ worth of research.
He must have been trying so hard to get me back. Memory felt guilty about assuming there would be so little.
Memory kicked the table leg. “We’re screwed! We can’t exactly do multiple trips to carry all this out.”
“I’m sorry. I know this was important to you.” Roen moved next to her and put his hand on her shoulder. “Could we remove it all some other way? Could you use a Veil door?”
Memory twitched, the thought of using her magic giving her goosebumps. She wasn’t sure whether this research would have any of the information she really needed, but if it did, it was worth the try. She had to, for her, and for Will.
“You’ll have to do the heavy lifting, Roen. I need to concentrate.” Memory imagined her own chambers, and pinched the fabric of reality with her fingers, opening a door through the Veil. “I’ll keep it open. You take everything through.”
Roen nodded and moved fast, loading up an armful of books and carrying them through. Even this way, only moving the books a few steps, it would take a lot of trips.
As Roen went back and forth through the door, he took a moment to catch his breath and balance. He started to look gray from the effects of the Veil. The books weren’t so much placed as dropped onto the floor in Memory’s living room.
Memory focused on keeping the door open and tried to shuffle the remaining books around on the desk to hide what had been taken.
Roen gathered up the last few books when they heard men’s voices on the stairwell.
“I hear movement. Someone is in there,” one man cried.
Roen froze, a look of terror on his face. Memory looked from him to the door as the footsteps grew closer. The agitation in the approach
ing voices was clear. Memory and Roen were going to be caught. They could both go through the Veil door, but then there would be no answer to what had occurred there. There might be an investigation, and the Wizards had magical ways of finding out who did what and where. Memory had dragged Roen into this, and the prospect of being caught here, stealing, had left him looking shattered.
Memory charged him, pushing him through the Veil door into her room. She let the door close between them. Grabbing the nearest book, she hopped up onto the desk and shook herself into a casual expression just as Hayes burst in, followed by Bedevere and another Councilor.
“And here we have our culprit,” Hayes declared.
Memory looked up from the book she pretended to read. “What brings you all up here? I was just doing bit of light reading, myself.”
Hayes marched up to her. “Madoc here discovered his key missing, and when we checked around it turned out Bedevere’s had also gone astray. And here we discover – ‘Tristan,’ is it? – at the scene of the crime.”
Hayes pulled her cap off her head, throwing it to the floor. Her blonde hair that had been tucked up in it tumbled down around her face. Memory jerked back away from him and sneered.
“If I weren’t locked away in the castle, if you actually let me go to school, and I mean real school, with magic classes, maybe I wouldn’t have to sneak around to read this stuff myself. Or dress as a boy.”
“Nothing excuses your outrageous behavior. I thought you’d been keeping your nose clean, and then you pull this stunt? How on earth did you manage to acquire the keys?”
Memory looked at Madoc, red faced and seething, and then to Bedevere who watched the proceedings with the same lack of expression he always showed. He met her eye, and she was surprised by a tenderness there that seemed to invite her to give him up.
Memory stood up and reached for Hayes’s ear. “You mean this key?”
She made a show of pulling a key from his ear, then reached with her other hand to his other ear and pulled out the second key. “Or this key?”
Hayes swiped his walking cane across her arms, knocking the keys from her hands. Madoc skittered forward and chased after them, picking them up.
“Childish games. You have broken the law, and we must administer a suitable punishment. Tristan will be expelled from lessons. When you return to school, you return as Memory only. You need to understand that acting out like this is no way to get what you want.”
No more Tristan? Memory had only used the excuse of needing to attend magic lessons as a boy to cover up what she’d really been doing. But to have that taken away from her hit her hard. She leaned back against the desk, needing its support.
“But I need to go to magic class. I need to learn more,” she said, her head shaking side to side.
“To do what? Cause even more trouble than you currently do by adding magic into the mix?” Hayes scoffed.
In just one class with Waylan, so much understanding had opened up in Memory. She had been looking forward to little else like she had returning to magic class, even without Waylan teaching. She couldn’t lose that. She just couldn’t. She had to do something.
“I have to because I’m scared.” Memory let all defenses drop. She addressed Hayes, but then turned to Bedevere, finding his calm gaze more comforting. “I’m losing control, of whatever is happening within me. I’ve Veil doored without meaning to. I’m worried about what else could happen. I need to learn about this stuff.”
Bedevere’s expression changed ever so slightly, a bend of the eyebrows, a softening of the eyes.
Hayes spoke first. “If you would just let us examine you as requested—”
Bedevere spoke over him, his deep voice easily covering Hayes’s. “How about this: rather than attending classes with the male students, which is of course unseemly for a girl of the royal family, I can offer to privately teach the princess. As a tutor.”
Memory stood up straight again, leaning forward hopefully. “You’d really do that for me?”
Bedevere grunted softly. “I can probably work my schedule around to find the time.”
Memory tried hard to act chastised still and not let loose a toothy grin. She looked to Hayes for approval.
“Fine, so be it. If Bedevere has time to waste on such pursuits, he is free to do so. But this leniency is on the understanding that there will be no further incidents from you. If you step wrong again, a much more dire punishment will need to be found.”
Memory jogged briskly all the way back to her chambers. Running in, she found Roen still there, biting his thumbnail and pacing back and forth around the stack of Alward’s research. When he saw her he stopped short then strode up to her, grabbing her hands tight. “Are you all right? Why did you do something so foolish?”
Memory rolled her eyes and smiled. “I’m fine. A little slap on the wrist was all. And I threw them off the scent. I doubt they even noticed this stuff was gone or that I had an accomplice.”
“I can’t believe you took the blame like that. If I were found, if…” Roen’s words stuttered away to nothing.
Memory could see it on his face. It would kill him. It almost did in the past. He was more willing to be hung than be known as a thief. I was stupid for asking him to help me with this, thinking he’d be okay with it.
“Forget about it. Tristan took the brunt of it, but things worked out okay. And hey, check out our haul,” Memory said.
Roen didn’t turn to look. He stared at Memory intensely and bent in to kiss her lips.
Memory shied away and cleared her throat.
Roen remained still, his cheek beside hers. “Thank you,” he whispered.
Memory slid her hands free of his and crouched down beside the sprawling papers, beginning work sorting and stacking them. She remembered sitting surrounded by books in Eloryn’s room, holding her sister as she wept from the pain of missing her guardian, wishing for something so small as to just see his handwriting again.
These belong to her, Memory thought. Just like Roen does, and I’m taking both from her.
“Change of plan,” Memory said, standing back up. “Let’s give these to Lory. Don’t you think she’ll like them?”
Roen just nodded, staring at Memory. She stared back and an awkwardness rose.
“I know you like her,” Memory blurted. “I mean, I know you like her more than me. And that’s okay. This thing, you and me, I’m not so sure it’s working.”
Roen’s lips moved into a very small smile. “To be honest, I’m not sure either. It was nice, to try, but I would not risk our friendship by forcing something that doesn’t want to grow. I love you, Memory. You are the best friend I’ve ever had, and could I have anyone as a sister, it would be you.”
“Or brother, right?” Memory joked, waving at her clothing.
Roen chuckled and gave her a tight hug. “You’re truly something special.”
“Just not quite as special as Lory?” she said into his shoulder.
Roen pushed her away again and dipped his head a little to look seriously into her eyes. “You and El, for all your similarities, are very different. Don’t forget that.”
“I know. It’s just difficult with her being so perfect all the damn time,” Memory admitted.
“That she is. Unobtainably perfect. I want to be better for her, to deserve her, but whenever I try to act up it makes me feel worse.” Roen moved back and looked down at their steal. He bent to start clearing it up, but Memory waved him away.
“Leave it. I’ll deal with it all in the morning.” Memory took Roen’s hand and led him from the room. She paused at the door and gave him a stern look. “Roen, take my advice. Just be yourself around her. Your flirtatious, sexy self.”
Roen smiled back but his brow was furrowed. “And what if she doesn’t like that me?”
“Terrifying, isn’t it?” Memory grinned wryly as she let him out the door. “Maybe it’s not best to take any of my advice. I wouldn’t know how to be myself if I tried. But it�
��s important to be loved for who you really are, right?”
Chapter 17
Eloryn sat on a garden bench in the center of the rose garden. Entering her office for the day had caused an abrupt anxiety attack, so she made an excuse that she wanted to spend some time outside and would do her work there instead. A wooden desk and a lacy white canopy had been carried out by servants, and she flipped through her paperwork in the wan sunlight. With a sigh she noted that it was the job itself she wished to escape, not just the office.
She focused on her surroundings and a small wistful smile grew on her lips. Pebbled pathways ran between neat rows of well cared for roses, blooming in shades of peaches, pinks, and behested purples, within a courtyard framed by the tall palace. Something about the space reminded Eloryn of the high-walled courtyard in the home she’d shared with Alward and her time stealing slips of sunlight there. The sweet smell of the roses hung in the air. With the aid of magic, the roses there were always in bloom, even now when the weather grew steadily worse.
Eloryn’s usual guard detail accompanied her, some manning the perimeters of the courtyard, with one always standing directly beside her. She was distracted from her work when another soldier arrived and with a few quiet words, dismissed the soldier closest to her and took his place.
He nodded to her meaningfully. His sandy-colored hair and densely freckled skin highlighted bright blue eyes.
She gave a polite smile and nodded back, meaning to return to her paperwork, when he cleared his throat.
“Your majesty,” he said in a boyish voice and bowed to her. “My name is Erec. I am here to protect you.”
“Thank you.” Eloryn tried to sound grateful and hide the truth that having these bodyguards around smothered her every breath. Despite knowing the reality of the situation, she couldn’t help but be nostalgic about her time in the forests with just Roen and Memory, running for their lives.
Erec cleared his throat again, and Eloryn raised an eyebrow at him. He looked around as if to check for listeners and leaned in slightly.
Memory's Wake Omnibus: The Complete Illustrated YA Fantasy Series Page 42