It took the maids three hours to sweep away all the feathers on and around the bed. Zoisite, red-faced and smiling, changed into her nightclothes and settled herself on the bed, albeit as far away from Memory as possible. She pulled the sheets up to her face.
The lights were turned off, and while Memory knew she would probably get in trouble for breaking rules again, it was okay. It would be attributed to her recent move, but Zoisite…did King Darius and Queen Pearl have to be so harsh on her?
“Have you ever been outside the palace grounds?” Memory whispered loudly. She knew Zoisite was still awake, evident by the constant turning, but the girl didn’t respond.
Probably too ashamed to.
“Well,” Memory cleared her throat, “It’s awesome. I mean, Sugrove is beautiful, but there’s so much more. In Whecombe Pass, where Prince Cassian found me, they have these things called corn dogs. And donuts on a stick.”
When she heard a quiet gasp from the girl, she continued.
“And there are so many people. I hate online school. Before, you would go to school every morning at like, seven, and have to sit in tiny cramped classrooms with thirty other sweaty people. It was awful.” Memory smiled wistfully.
“But it was fun.”
Sleep came at a lugging pace, but Memory was up the moment darkness was bestowed upon her. Her scream echoed in the room, and a maid rushed up to her, glass of water in hand.
“Princess! Princess! It was just a nightmare.” She said in a soothing voice. “Do you need me to call a doctor?”
Memory’s lips were shut tight. Why was this happening? She’d never had nightmares before. Taking a deep breath, she got out of bed. There was no way she could sleep, not tonight.
Zoisite was, thankfully, snoring away through the entire ordeal, and Memory sat near the glass doors that led to her balcony, watching the little girl as her chest heaved up and down from loud breaths.
I want to go home. I want to stop.
The nineteen year old stayed up the rest of the night and well into the morning. It was around two pm in the afternoon when she crashed, and when she woke up (nightmare free, thankfully), her face felt sticky. She walked into the bathroom, and screeched when she saw the layers of honey dripping from her hair.
Zoisite laughed, pointing at her. Memory growled, throwing a bottle of soap in her direction, before resuming to the hideous task of washing her hair free of the goo. Her shouts soon turned into dry, heaving coughs so she shut her mouth.
Her aunt, she supposed, wasn’t used to this. Being able to act like her age. And Zoisite knew it too–Memory was the one that let her do this and not reprimand her for it like everyone else did. That was probably why she asked to stay in her room for the remainder of Memory’s punishment.
“Zoisite,” She called, and then rolled her eyes remembering the actual term, “Aunt Zoisite!”
“What?” The girl looked up from her book. “Stop yelling so loudly, it hurts my ears.”
“Since you can leave the room, do you mind doing me a favor?”
“Of course I mind.”
“You haven’t even heard what I wanted to say yet!” Memory insisted. “Could you check up on Elliot?”
Zoisite blinked.
“Why would I do that?”
“Just–just tell him to call me. Or text me. I’m worried.” Memory said in a rush, scribbling down her number on a scrap of paper. She handed it to Zoisite. “Thanks.”
Zoisite stared at the paper, and then looked up, an evil grin spreading over her rather adorable face. She cackled, and Memory didn’t even know it was possible for ten-year olds to cackle.
“Okay…I will. Except, you have to do something for me…”
And that was how Memory found herself in the dead of the night, making an escape plan.
“You know,” She said to Zoisite hours later, after she’d returned from Elliot’s room, “I could’ve just done this and talked to Elliot.”
Zoisite put her hands on her hips. “We’re not going to his room. We’re leaving the palace.”
A drop of sweat made its way down Memory’s face. “Has it occurred to you that this is probably worse than what happened with Martin? This could be the final straw and where will I be? Kicked out and on the streets.”
“Oh, my darling brother the king won’t find out.”
“You sound confident.”
Zoisite gazed outside the window, watching the stars twinkle in the dark night. “I’ve dreamed of this for years.”
She sounds like a freaking prisoner. Actually, she probably is one, depending on your definition of prisoner.
“And you choose now, of all times, to go?”
Zoisite sneered at her. “What do you know?”
At that, Memory held her hands up in apology. “Alright. But what are we going to do about them?” She pointed at the maids, scattered around the room. One, Alexa, was scrubbing the table in the lounge while the other two were rearranging the books on her bookcase.
“I dunno. You’re older, you’re supposed to be the smart one.”
“Right. You called me stupid yesterday.”
Snorting, Zoisite jumped onto the windowsill, struggling to balance. “Then you’re the brave one.”
“Brave?” Memory was skeptical.
“I hate to say it, but you hit Martin. I never liked him.” The little girl sniffed. “And you run around the palace in front of everyone.”
“What, that’s not allowed?”
“No. I tried doing that two years ago but then his majesty ordered for my ankle to be twisted.” It was said so casually that Memory actually fell off the bed.
King Darius did that? Ordered for ankle-twisting? There was no way they could escape and come back without a death penalty. And that was if they were lucky.
But it did sound appealing, she had to admit. The word escape made her salivate. Even if it were just a few moments, tasting the air of freedom would heal her, and possibly make it through the rest of the three month contract. She could do it.
“Before I was born, I heard that women were allowed to leave the palace.” Zoisite said, jumping down from the windowsill. “But then I was born. And Tourmaline and Tsavorite have rarely left since.”
It sounded dubious. “You sure?” Memory asked. “Even for parties?”
“Yeah. Tourmaline is always here. And Tsavorite is locked up at her home in the Jackson Estate.”
“I don’t think it was because of you, Zoisite.”
Zoisite shrugged. “Whatever. Anyway, have you thought of a plan yet?”
Memory glanced at the maids, and then back at Zoisite. “Um. Sorta?”
The maids, it turned out, took shifts during the night. The three, including Alexa, left just as another three entered.
Memory stood on her desk and pulled down the garish orange curtains. When Zoisite refused to help her, she sighed and sat down, taking two of the long pieces of cloth and twisting it into rope.
“That’s going to unravel, stupid!” Zoisite exclaimed. Memory shook her head.
“Secret number one–if you twist the two strands in opposite directions and then twist them together, it won’t.” Memory held it up as an example, and Zoisite pouted.
The two worked, or one worked and the other watched, for about half an hour with the curtains. Memory could feel the maids watching her in confusion, but for them, she was just a weird princess who did weird things.
There was a longer set of curtains over the glass doors, each pinned to the side. Memory undid them (almost falling off the table she’d used as a ladder in the process), pulling the cloth off the curtain rods.
“Do we have scissors?”
Zoisite stuck her bottom lip out. “How should I know? This is your room.”
Memory crept up to a maid and tapped her on the shoulder. She jumped and the nineteen year old tried to smile.
“Could you get me some scissors?”
Unfortunately, the maid shook her head. “I’m sorry. Those are banned from yo
ur room.”
“Why?” Memory whined. What harm could she possibly do with scissors? Other than using them to make ropes to escape, anyway.
The maid didn’t say anything else, so Memory was left trying to tear the curtains into long strips. At one point, Zoisite reminded her of the cameras, and Memory waved her hands around.
“I have an idea.”
The curtains, in the mean time, wouldn’t rip. She had no idea what they were made out of, but no matter what the two did, they would not tear.
“I guess we’ll have to use my dresses, then.” Memory said wryly. “Do you know how tall each floor is, by the way?”
Zoisite counted on her fingers. “The large halls, like the dining hall and ballroom, have domed ceilings thirty feet high at its peak, while the kitchen–” She sounded like she was reciting from a textbook.
“The rooms, Zoisite.”
“Sixteen feet and four inches.”
The shade of Memory’s face whitened to the point it resembled paper.
That’s going to be a long fall.
The curtains, Memory estimated, were about eight feet long. The ones from the window near her desk added an extra two feet. They were six feet short, but even more so if she added the height of the railing around the balcony.
Jumping over the balcony seemed like a crazier and crazier idea by the minute.
In the end, it only took two ball gowns to make up for the height. Memory wasn’t sad at all to see them go, although Zoisite made sure they were the worst ones out of the closet.
“These two would look the ugliest on you.” She said, tying the dresses together in a tight knot. “Trust me, I had more than enough options.”
“You’re insults are really creative. You should write a book.”
“Actually…” Zoisite started slowly, “With the extra dresses, why don’t we…?”
The maids were still a problem. Around one am, Memory hesitantly asked the maids to talk in private. They ended up in the bathroom, with Memory taking a deep breath.
“So…” She started awkwardly, reluctant to make eye contact with the young girl. “If I try to leave, what will you do?”
The girl raised a suspicious eyebrow. “Alert the guards outside.”
“What’s your name? Jenna, right? Okay, well, this one time, could you just…ignore what Zoisite and I are going to do?”
The girl’s eyes widened. “Are you trying to leave? Princess, you can’t! The Queen’s orders–”
“Then I’m not sorry I have to do this. Zoisite!”
Zoisite barged in with a long rope made of dresses. She wrapped her small arms around the maid’s legs as Memory took the makeshift rope and wrapped it around her body as gently as possible.
“Tape?” Memory asked, and Zoisite handed it to her. The maid struggled, but the little girl held onto her tightly.
I have tape in my desk but not scissors. Great. She ripped off a piece with her teeth and stuck it over the maid’s mouth and then shushed her.
“It’s okay. If I get in trouble, I’ll take all the blame. You guys are just doing your job, eh?” Memory tied the girl’s hands and then pushed her into the empty bathtub. “Try and go to sleep, it’s actually pretty comfortable.”
The maid glared at her, trying to talk but it was muffled through the tape. Memory moved to give Zoisite a high five but she just wrinkled her nose.
“There’s two more. And they’re older…and taller.”
She was right, but maids, it seemed, were fairly weak when it came to strength. Sure, they had muscles from cleaning all the time, but compared to Memory, who’d spent her life wrestling Brian, it was no problem. Her biggest worry was the noise, and possibly if the guards were alerted.
“At least there are no cameras in the bathrooms.” Zoisite stated and Memory dragged the last maid in to the corner. “Even King Darius isn’t that crazy.”
“Let’s barricade the door just in case.”
“Cameras, crazy woman. What happens if–?”
“I got it.”
It was a cheap shot, but Memory didn’t have any better ideas.
“What are we doing?” Zoisite asked, dumbfounded, when Memory dragged the bed comforter and the velvet chairs over to the bathroom door. She held a finger up to her lips.
“A fort.” She said loudly, hoping the guards outside would hear. “I did this a lot as a little kid.”
They moved a lot of furniture around, with Memory thinking how much work they had to do just to get a night outside of the palace, but for Zoisite, it was everything. And Memory wasn’t exactly opposed to the idea and it sounded fun. But…
There goes my twenty-five million dollars.
“Do you think if we threw a cloth over the cameras they’d get scared?” She questioned Zoisite. The girl seemed to know a lot when it came to palace affairs.
“They? You mean the people working in the security room? Probably.” She pushed the last of the velvet chairs into place. “But they saw us making ropes and stuff. If they didn’t come in then, I don’t think they’ll come in now.”
“Hm?”
“The people who work there are quite lazy anyway.” Zoisite rubbed her nose. “Personally, I don’t think it was hard for the thief to turn off all the cameras in the halls.”
Memory bristled. “That would’ve been good to know earlier, twerp!”
She ended up taping pieces of paper over the cameras, but all her hard work had gone to waste. Couldn’t they just use the tunnels? But letting Zoisite know would not end well, especially if it meant the girl could pop into her room whenever she’d like.
Balcony it is.
“Quiet!”
“I am quiet, now you shut it or I’ll staple your mouth shut!”
“Now who’s being creative with insults?”
“Zoisite…” Memory crept stealthily along the railing of the balcony, dragging the rope with her. The bag on her shoulder slowed her down. She was wearing the darkest clothes possible, which ended up being black leggings and full sleeved dress that she ripped the bottom off of, and Zoisite…well, she was going in her pajamas. Which was fine by all means, if she would only shut it.
Her room, fortunately faced the outside of the U that all the buildings made, facing the stables instead. Which was a good thing, or the people across in the East Wing would spot her before she got one leg over the railing.
The cold bit at her neck, so Memory let her hair down, hoping it would at least warm up her shoulders, neck, and ears. Her hands shook as she tied the rope around the railing and was about to throw it over when Zoisite pulled her back.
“There’s three men that make their rounds the entire grounds, and four that are individually assigned to each Wing.” She whispered loudly. “There’s one right there!”
Memory followed her gaze, pinpointing her own on the dim light that was moving around. Someone was holding a flashlight, and she couldn’t help but giggle at the “high-tech security” the palace had.
“Oh, and there are motion sensors too near the streetlamps. And cameras that scan back and forth on each wall.”
“Zoisite! Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. But at least I told you this before you got yourself caught.”
“Me? If I go down, you’re going down too.” Memory whispered back, frustrated. “Why are we doing this again?”
“Because I’ve planned for this for years. Go! That guy just rounded the corner, and we have less than three minutes until another guy comes around!”
God she’s bossy.
Memory’s hands sweat profusely as she quickly let down the rope. It fell between the wall and where the railing of the balcony joined it, and she carefully propelled herself off the ground, over the metal railing, and planted her feet on the wall. Her eyes flickered towards a speck of black inches away from her and bit her lip to keep herself from screaming.
Heights didn’t frighten her like most. Or the dark, or blood, but it was
bugs she absolutely despised. Ugly, big, spiders. Like the one next to her.
“Go!” Zoisite ordered, and Memory squeaked, sliding down the rope. When her hands started burning she turned to using the wall as a foundation, pushing off from it and lowering herself bit by bit. Eventually, she hit the ground, and moments later, Zoisite was on top of her. They hit the ground with a thud.
Memory wheezed as Zoisite pulled her up. “Come on!” She urged.
“M-my chest…” Memory forced herself to breathe. “You’re heavy!”
Zoisite didn’t apologize, rolling off her and standing up like they hadn’t just climbed down from the second floor. Which was like a fourth floor compared to a normal sized building. The two tugged painfully on the rope, which came undone only after Memory gave it a hard pull.
Most, if not all, the lights were off, but Zoisite pulled her in the direction of the one window light filtered in through.
“We have to go this way, or we’ll run into a guard.” She huffed.
Suddenly, Memory’s ears picked up the sound of whistling, and she quickly shoved Zoisite under a windowsill. She dove in after her, hoping her black clothing would blend into the wall.
The whistling guard strolled by, the light of his flashlight nowhere even close to the duo.
“I could get used to this.” Memory whispered, the rush of adrenaline something she hadn’t felt in years. “Let’s go.”
They gathered up the rope, which Memory stuffed into her backpack. They crept past the window that was lit, but Zoisite backtracked.
“Prince Cassian!” She waved.
“Zoisite, no!”
It was too late, as the window was shoved open and Prince Cassian shoved his head out.
“Zoisite?” He asked in a gruff voice. Memory turned away, screaming inwardly. “What are you doing?”
“It is aunt Zoisite, and we are escaping! Want to come?”
“We’re?” Prince Cassian turned his head, only just noticing Memory. “…Jade?”
Memory squeaked. “Um, hi?”
Prince Cassian was so floored that he couldn’t speak. Not to mention, he resembled a raccoon with how dark the circles underneath his eyes were.
The Liars Page 13