The Liars

by Hashmi, Heraa

  “Jousting.” Chrysander explained, chuckling as he told her to toss her his lance, which was sitting in the corner. It was long and stouter than an infantry spear, and Memory handed it to him with care.

  Watching Myron trying to get on the horse was a ridiculous feat in itself, Memory had to cover her mouth but the mirth couldn’t be kept from her eyes. Myron nearly got kicked in the stomach by Julian, and it was when the horse snarled at him that Memory stepped in.

  “Hold the saddle like this–” She explained, recalling what Elliot had taught her, “And put your foot here.”

  Myron glared at her. “I am not stupid, I know what I’m doing.”

  Memory held her hands up. “Alright, then.” She watched her uncle, who was much more trained with horses, lift himself onto a horse named Cinnamon, a beautiful brown Andalusian horse.

  Apparently, no one else in the palace had real work to do, as all of her aunts with the exception of Tsavorite, Elliot, and Malden came to watch the joust. Memory, never having seen a real joust in her life, joined Elliot on the sidelines.

  Chrysander and Myron rushed towards each other, dressed fully in armor, and held their lances out upright. Myron fell off his horse at least three times, and Chrysander refrained from hitting the boy until he demanded for her uncle to put full effort into it.

  “I am no coward!” He declared, and Chrysander chuckled.

  “As you wish.”

  Memory, after seeing the first hit, tensed up and somehow found her hand gripping Elliot’s arm. Elliot didn’t say anything, and when Chrysander knocked Myron off his horse, she hugged the man next to her tightly, failing to see the pink tinge blossoming across his cheeks.

  Later, at dinner, as the family talked excitedly (or as excited as they could sound in the presence of Queen Pearl), Memory nudged Tsavorite, who was sitting next to her for once.

  “Why weren’t you there?” She asked. “You’re son actually didn’t die.”

  Tsavorite chuckled, spearing a slice of chicken with her fork. She wasn’t perturbed at all with Memory’s insulting of her son. “I knew he was going to lose. No reason to watch when the outcome is known.”

  “But it was entertaining.”

  Tsavorite pursed her lips. “I’m not very…fond of horses, to be honest. They’re beautiful creatures, but the more the frightening.” She laughed until Queen Pearl’s neck creaked as she turned to stare down at her. Even Tsavorite couldn’t hold her ground and shut up, leaving Memory to eat her dinner in solemn silence.

  “What do you want to do when you’re older?”

  Elliot barely looked up from the book in his hands, and it took Memory yanking it out of his hands and throwing in into the fountain for him to listen.

  As expected, he didn’t get angry, but simply fished the book out of the water and set it down next to him, uncaring that his arms were now sopping wet.

  “Sorry.” Memory said, although she wasn’t sorry at all. “Don’t you miss your parents?”

  “Yes, Lady Jade.” Elliot replied, rubbing his hands together in an effort to warm them up.

  “Well,” Memory started, “Do you want to visit them? I would love to meet them.”

  Elliot tensed, but after knowing him as she did, Memory knew the bigger meaning behind it. She backtracked, chastising herself for being so skittish.

  She apologized. “I didn’t mean to–”

  “That would be a fine idea, Lady Jade.” Elliot replied calmly. “But now is not the appropriate time.”

  “Maybe in the future, then? I could get his majesty to agree. I think.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Don’t you get bored?”

  Elliot glanced up at her, the barest of smiles gracing his handsome face. “Quite.”

  “And?”

  “ I must admit,” Elliot started, “It has been very enjoyable here recently, Lady Jade.”

  Memory nodded, not understanding the full implications of that statement. “I bet, with the thief and all…what do you do, anyway?”

  “Foreign affairs.” He said, and when she didn’t say anything else, he returned to his book despite its wrinkled and wet pages. Memory rolled her eyes but the creaking of the gates stopped her.

  The limo, which she recognized as Prince Cassian’s, entered the grounds, slowed down to turn towards the back. Memory excused herself, following the car down to the garage, and when Prince Cassian stepped out, she immediately launched a myriad of questions at him.

  “I thought you weren’t going to return until the twenty-fourth!” She exclaimed, surprised. Although, she had to admit she wasn’t entirely annoyed by his return…it was almost like she was elated. Even though he’d interrupted the great time she’d been having with Elliot.

  Prince Cassian’s driver took the briefcase from his hands, and the Prince sighed. Memory noticed his absolutely exhausted expression as he looked at her wearily.

  “We need to talk.”

  Biscuits and two cups of tea later, the two ‘siblings’ were sitting in the empty drawing room.

  “The family heirloom…it has been found.” Prince Cassian started, and Memory frowned.

  “How?”

  “Well, I have pinpointed the location. It has yet to be physically returned.” His eyes were darker than ever, and his voice wore thin.

  “Shouldn’t you tell King Darius?”

  “Not if I want to be kicked out, no.” Prince Cassian explained not-so-succinctly. He unbuttoned the cuffs of his sleeves, obviously stressed out.

  “So you’re telling me.” Memory deadpanned. “I’m not powerful. What am I supposed to do?”

  He narrowed his eyes at her and leaned forward.

  “I severely underestimated you.”

  She fidgeted under his gaze. “What?”

  “Kendall Banks.” He stated with an accusatory tone. “You knew.”

  Memory was severely confused. What was the idiot going on about?

  “You asked me about him the day after the ball.” Ah, that. “At the moment, I was overworked or I would have looked into it. It turns out that the location the heirloom was in was in the same area Kendall Banks had relocated to after his banishment.”

  “So he’s the thief!” Memory exclaimed, eyes wide. Excitement bubbled up within her but Prince Cassian cut her short.

  “No. An investigator found a large sum of money transferred to the account of a man by the name of Chadwick Phillips.” He paused to gulp down another half a cup of tea. “He is well acquainted with Kendall Banks, who goes by the name of Kendall Hill know, which I found odd.”

  “How do you know where he lives?”

  “Kendall may have been banished, but we have always kept tabs on him.” Prince Cassian smirked, and Memory couldn’t help but wonder at the amount of secrets the man held. “The crown was found in Chadwick’s apartment, but he insists he’s not the thief. He told the investigator about his friend Kendall, but the odd thing was that he knew the truth about his background. The fact that he was a Viviste.”

  An excited gleam lit up in Memory’s eyes. “So he is the thief.”

  Prince Cassian sighed exasperatedly. “Again, no.” His finger slipped on the teacup and it fell to the ground in shatters. Memory giggled at his clumsiness but quieted when he threw a glare her way.

  “But…how did you know?”

  Memory tilted her head. “Hm. It was a gut feeling, really. Remember the conversation we heard between Gilford and Martin? I thought it was weird they argued about the ‘brother’ that dishonored the family right after the thief escaped.”

  Prince Cassian’s eyes lit up with realization. “Was that the reason behind the fight with Martin?” Memory nodded and he sighed. “It’s all too confusing. Even if he is the thief, how he managed to enter the palace undetected and leave with the crown is a mystery. And he knew of the locks.”

  “He had help from the inside.” Memory said, as if it was the most obvious thing. “And,” She stressed, “He probably knew about the tunnels
. That’s the only way I can think of.”

  From the look he gave her, she knew he thought she was being unusually perceptive.

  He wouldn’t admit it in a million years, though.

  Despite that, she grinned smugly. “So, why exactly was he disowned?”

  Prince Cassian squinted his eyes at her. “I thought you would’ve figured out by now.”

  “Please. I would’ve if everyone wasn’t being all stupid about it.” She retorted.

  “I do not know the details, but he was rather…frivolous, if the accounts of the maids are anything to go by. Either way, his motives would make sense.” He mused. “Revenge on the family that kicked him out.”

  “It’s all too coincidental.” Memory noted, her eyes darting back and forth. The Vivistes arrived, thief came, and the argument. But why now? Why wait fifteen years after he was disowned? “But there’s something fishy about the whole situation.”

  “Kendall Banks has already been interrogated. But I feel there is something missing.” He glanced at Memory, a mischievous smirk plastered on his face. Her hair stood on end as she stepped back, suddenly scared.

  “And you’re going to believe me?” She asked nervously, her back hitting the wall as Prince Cassian approached her like a predator. “That’s a first.”

  He flattened his palms against the wall on either side of her and leaned so close she could feel the warmth of his steady breathing.

  “I abhor saying this,” He started slowly as if addressing a child, “but we are a team, are we not?”

  Memory laughed nervously, scratching the back of her neck.

  “We make one hell of a team, dude.”

  His smirk deepened.

  “We are going on a mission.”

  Chapter 12

  “Father is the one who initiated his removal from the family registry.” Prince Cassian told her, explaining the reason why he couldn’t get his father and other royal officials involved in the business. “He would incarcerate him immediately, without trial.”

  “So…” Memory started, watching Alexa drag her suitcase into the trunk of the limo, “You want to be fair and go undercover instead? I would’ve thought you were all for jailing up people.”

  He snorted quietly, but Memory still heard it. “I’m not going undercover. You are. And I’m touched you hold such a high opinion of me.”

  “Oh, knock it off.”

  As expected, he stifled a laugh before his carefree expression slipped and hardened with determination.

  “I would have let professionals deal with this issue, but seeing as this involves the family…”

  Memory understood, but was still confused. “And you’re asking me, of all people, to go.”

  As the two climbed into the back of the limo, Memory pressed up closer to Prince Cassian than was necessary, he nodded.

  “There is a less of a chance he will recognize you. As far as I know, the only time he saw Jade–you–was when you were four years of age.” He straightened his tie, fixating her with a different expression from the one he’d just been wearing. “Of course, you’ll be wearing a disguise.”

  Memory wondered if he’d ever checked into a mental hospital. So here she was, pretending to be Jade, preparing to pretend to be someone else? King Grantham help her.

  “And you?”

  “Hopefully, he won’t know it’s me.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “But if he does, you’ll have an easier time prying something from him than I will.”

  Memory couldn’t help but have a horrible feeling about this.

  Prince Cassian, sneaky as he was, had convinced King Darius that he was taking her out on a tour around Sugrove to, in his words, “tame her”.

  So here they were, sitting in his private jet, traveling three hundred miles west to the far beaches of Helviera, near Clithorp.

  The jet itself was a masterpiece. And while Memory could enjoy sitting in the plush seats, sipping on iced tea and watching the clouds rush by, she also felt angry. Angry that she was enjoy in this when who knew what the situation back home was like.

  No time for that. I just have to last until Zoisite’s birthday party and I’m done. A large grin spread across her face. Twenty-five million.

  Prince Cassian, legs crossed and sitting upright, was leaving through a pile of papers. He spoke in even tones, not even looking up to make sure Memory was listening. At one point, he handed Memory the papers, and she skimmed over them picking out the important parts.

  Kendall Banks had moved to Clithorp immediately after being disowned at age twenty-three. He was given a small sum in order to find a place to live and work (Gee, how nice of them to do that), opened up a business, and was actually quite successful on his own.

  “He has a daughter, Lilyana Hill.” Prince Cassian rubbed his eyes, and Memory looked up. “She’s eight years old, as of now.”

  A daughter? A crease formed on Memory’s forehead as her eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “Is he married?”

  “Like I said, he is quite…” Prince Cassian grimaced. “Well, let’s just say he gets around.”

  Memory burst out laughing as he cleared his throat.

  “Although, it was a bit surprising to know he is a single father and didn’t leave the mother with Lilyana.”

  “Oh come on. I doubt he’s that rude.” She joked, giggling. “Actually, I take that back. The entire lot of you is unbelievably annoying.”

  Prince Cassian looked at her skeptically. “And Elliot?”

  Her laughter died to a nervous gulp.

  “Shut up.”

  Memory slept for the remainder of the flight, and when she woke, she faced an equally tired Prince Cassian, sprawled across the couch in front of her. He was snoring loudly, and his lips formed a deep frown, even in sleep. The one thing that did catch her attention, though, was his scarred hands.

  Huh. Never noticed that.

  There was an ugly faded one stretching from his thumb to his elbow, and a fresh pink one across the palm of his right hand.

  His silver crown was one the table next to the sofa, and unable to resist the urge, Memory bounced up and placed it on her head, searching for the nearest mirror.

  It really was a pretty crown. Too pretty for her, she thought, as she stared at herself in the mirror in the restroom. How had she been able to fool everyone? She didn’t even stand like a princess. Sure, with makeup and loads of eyeliner, she could somewhat measure up to Tsavorite’s beauty. Or Emerald’s. Never Tourmaline’s, that was way out of her league.

  But still.

  It was the small things–her posture was slouched from working long hours at jobs she couldn’t bother to remember, her skin was rough and pimply from too many hours in the sun, and she moved like a penguin.

  The crown, she liked to think, could be hers one day. Maybe she could convince her dear ‘brother’ to get her one to keep as a souvenir when she returned.

  With a long sigh, she returned to the seating area, and seeing her with his crown, the groggy prince groaned.

  “That reminds me.” He said wearily, snatching it from her hands and wiping it using the sleeve of his shirt. “I need to get one for you, before Zoisite’s party.” The crown was carefully tucked away in a compartment next to the couch.

  Memory shrugged, trying to conceal her excitement, before a voice boomed over the intercom, announcing their landing.

  They were ushered into another car, which took them to a hotel. The maids unpacked their bags, and pulled out an outfit for Memory which was more patches of cloth than actual clothing.

  “No.” Memory responded flatly. “I’m not wearing a bikini. No way.”

  The maid glared at her, but she wasn’t anywhere as stubborn as Diana so she relented. Memory ended up sporting a full piece swimsuit and beach towel tied around her waist. She impatiently waited for Prince Cassian, and when he emerged from his room, he grimaced at Memory’s attire but didn’t comment, thankfully.

  “Where are we going?” She asked, surprised
they weren’t getting a day’s rest or anything before leaving. Not that she was going to complain–she hadn’t been outside, actually outside, of the grounds in almost three months.

  She had to admit, though, seeing Prince Cassian wear swim shorts was almost worth it. Almost.

  I bet Elliot would look better.

  “To a yacht.” He replied, interrupting her train of thought. Memory backtracked.

  “WHAT?”

  “There’s a reason I rushed here.” He muttered quietly in her ear. Memory shivered, and it wasn’t from the cold. Heck, it was so warm beads of sweat were forming a puddle on her head. And she was wearing a hat.

  They didn’t go to a beach, it turned out, but instead the docks. Memory didn’t even have time to enjoy the warm air or the homely atmosphere when they boarded a yacht, which she noted had the word ‘Hill’ written in big black letters on the side.

  If I had a yacht, I wouldn’t be stealing family heirlooms.

  “He parties often. It’s the best time to catch him.” He explained further, and Memory glanced around as they boarded the yacht.

  “Are there guards following us?”

  “Of course.” He smirked. “Only the very best.”

  She tried to find them but five minutes later gave up. They really were the best.

  The deck was full of scantily clad women and men, dancing with drinks in hand. Prince Cassian wrinkled his nose, unused to rowdy environments.

  “Are commoners always this…undisciplined?”

  A loud howl erupted from Memory. She laughed for minutes, tears accumulating in her eyes. “You’re hilarious.”

  He, apparently, didn’t think he was and scowled. But then his arm found itself around Memory’s waist as she was maneuvered around the deck. She shivered again at his cold touch.

  Prince Cassian was clearly struggling to blend in with the crowd, and while Memory hadn’t been to many parties herself, she knew how to dance. Sort of.