“Lulu!” Memory gripped the phone tightly. She’d completely forgotten to call her sister back the day before.
“Why haven’t you been picking up?” Lulu demanded. “I’ve been trying to reach you for days. Where have you been?”
Memory pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry, okay? I’ve been busy. I was going to call back but I forgot–”
“How could you forget? It’s two minutes. You can’t be so busy that you can’t spare two minutes.” Her sister sounded so much harsher than she remembered.
“What’s wrong with you?” Memory asked snidely. “Didn’t I say I was busy?”
“I called you twenty times yesterday. Doesn’t that ring as odd?”
Memory took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down. “I’m sorry. I’ve been under a lot of stress lately, but I’ll be home soon.”
“Home? You mean our apartment that just burned down yesterday morning?”
She fell off the windowsill like she’d just been shot.
“WHAT?”
“I’ve been trying to tell you for hours.” Lulu sounded extremely angry, and Memory didn’t blame her. “But nooo, Memory is too busy to pick up.”
“Lulu, you tell me what the hell happened right now. Are you hurt? Is everything okay?” Memory dashed for the computer, searching for any news for a house fire in Whecombe Pass, even a small article.
“I’m at Viletta’s, but yeah, everything is good. Apparently, Bryan tried to visit and broke in. His cooking skills aren’t great, and boom. The stove exploded.”
“He broke in?” Bryan, the root of her problems. He just couldn’t stop messing with her life, could he? Even after all the stipends she sent him? A web page she was looking for popped up. By the looks of it, not just her apartment, but the entire building had been reduced to dust in mere minutes.
“You might need to come back early to fix up things a bit, Memory.” Lulu’s voice softened. “As usual.”
“I–I can’t.” Memory couldn’t leave, not here, not now. “I know the apartment is in my name but there’s a lot going on here, I’ll explain when I get home. Just, stay safe for now. What about Bryan, is he okay?”
“Okay? If third-degree burns is okay, then yeah, I guess so.”
Memory wanted to slap the life out of Bryan. When he had gotten worse with his drinking problem, she had thought that rising above provocation, holding her head high for the duration of her life and praying to every deity that her legal guardian would fall fatally into a ditch somewhere would be enough.
Obviously, it wasn’t.
“If it makes you feel better, when I get home, we’re packing and leaving.”
Memory heard Lulu’s surprised gasp. “Leaving? Leaving where?”
“Wherever. If you want, I can pull you out of school and we can travel the world for a while. Just me and you.”
“As nice as that sounds, I don’t think it’d be affordable…”
“Hey! I have to be the mature one here, okay? And if I say we can do it, we can do it. Now you go off and squeal in happiness while I finish my work, ‘kay?”
Lulu laughed. “Alright. Just promise to pick up my calls!”
“Got it, squirt.”
The moment Lulu hung up, the phone slipped out of Memory’s hands.
Crap.
Chapter 14
Memory was once again called down for a formal dinner. This meant looking somewhat presentable and not like the joker from the batman comic series.
Superhero references for the win.
What she ended up with was a sweatshirt and skinny jeans, because frankly, she didn’t care anymore at this point. The stares she garnered when she entered, though, were a bit unsettling. Even Elliot raised an eyebrow at her.
Diana curtsied in apology, and as usual, made up a plausible excuse that everyone nodded understandingly too. Except Queen Pearl.
Why is she here today?
Instead of wearing a slim gown, she was adorned with various furs and leather. She wore no jewelry, and looked sick.
Queen Pearl barely batted an eyelash at Memory as she stood up, her presence alone commanding silence.
“His majesty’s condition has worsened.” She said, and Memory gasped inaudibly. “He will be air lifted to a hospital in France to recover, and I will accompany him. I expect nothing but civil behavior in the time we are gone. One toe out of line and that is it.”
Memory held no qualms as to who the Queen was referring too.
“Queen Beryl is sick as well. Crown Prince Edward is in India and will not return until Friday.” Queen Pearl plucked at her fur shawl. “Until then, Prince Cassian is in charge. Everything is to be run by him, and no one enters or leaves the palace without his permission.”
From the expression on Prince Cassian’s face, Memory could tell he didn’t know beforehand. He looked like a deer caught in the headlights as everyone turned towards him.
Poor kid. He’s never told anything.
“But…” Zoisite’s small voice pierced the silence. “What about my party?”
Queen Pearl stared down at her. “That is nothing to be concerned about.” She sneered and excused herself, leaving her food untouched. The moment she turned, Memory thought she saw a small bump underneath the woman’s thick clothing.
It must have been a trick of the light.
“I am the second son. I was not trained for this sort of thing, I was always told I would be second in command to Prince Edward–”
“Calm down, Prince Cassian.” Chrysander laughed. “If it weren’t for your looks, your paranoia would be enough reason to verify you weren’t related to me. It’s only for three days. Nothing to worry about.”
Memory frowned as she watched Prince Cassian sink into a chair in the drawing room. She leaned closer, peering around the corner to get a better look. Chrysander was standing in front of him, smiling widely.
“Have you seen all the files on my desk? I just secured a deal with Walter Industries this morning, and that was the most difficult thing I’d done all year. And now I have bills to run by, cases to review, not to mention the medical bills of both my father and my grandmother–”
Chrysander chuckled, taking a seat next to him. “You’re a smart kid. You’ll get the work done. If anything, you’ve got nothing to lose. You mess up; no one will hold you accountable. You do well, and everyone will hail you as good a son as Prince Edward.”
Memory clasped a hand over her mouth to keep herself from giggling. Chrysander certainly had a way with comforting people. No wonder his fiancé was upset with him more often than not.
“Mother should have warned me beforehand.”
“I know.” Chrysander sighed. “She, even as queen, has a lot of work to do. I wish I could help, but unfortunately, I’m not in line for succession.”
“Good. I shudder to think what the fate of this country would be if you were in charge.” Prince Cassian bit out, and Chrysander guffawed.
“There you go! There’s the spirit I was looking for.”
“I must be off, then.” Prince Cassian stood to get up but Chrysander stopped him.
“May I suggest visiting Jade?”
“Jade?” Prince Cassian was just as shocked as Memory was. “Oh no, please don’t suggest that I ask her for help with the casework.”
What is that supposed to mean?
Chrysander shook his head. “Not yet. But she will certainly help lighten your mood, and you tend to work better after spending time with her, I’ve noticed. You two are quite close.”
Memory shrunk back just as Prince Cassian shrugged.
“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.” He replied absently.
She rushed back to her room.
“Princess? Prince Cassian is here to see you.” Alexa poked her head into the study area. Memory swirled around, pretending to be surprised.
It was almost eleven, nearly four hours past supper and the conversation she’d eavesdropped on, and he decided to drop by now.
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“Let him in.” She waved her hands, and moments later, the man appeared next to her desk. She pretended not to notice, scrolling through cat pictures on her computer.
“Working hard, I see.”
Memory closed her eyes. Diana hadn’t stopped nagging her about missing studies, again, and really, the head maid shouldn’t have been so surprised. The day Memory willingly sat down and subjected herself to three hours of lectures on the short–run economic fluctuations was the day hell froze over.
In other words, never.
“What’s up?” She started hoping to start a not completely pointless conversation.
“The ceiling.”
“Stop being cheeky. I’m serious.” Memory swirled around in her seat. “You almost never come here.”
Prince Cassian nodded in agreement, leaning against the desk and crossing his arms.
“Father isn’t doing well.”
“Do you know what happened?” Memory asked. She sat back in her chair, genuinely confused. “Did he have like, heart problems or something from before?”
“No.” He shook his head. “None. He was extremely healthy for an old man.”
“What about Tsavorite? She was there when he fainted, right?”
He nodded. “She said he suddenly started convulsing. Doctors suspected a seizure at first, but I just now talked to one of them.”
“And?”
“They found traces of methyl mercury in his body, which is the reason why he is being taken to France.” Prince Cassian motioned for Memory to move, and leaned over her shoulder as he pulled up a web page on methyl mercury.
Poison.
“Oh my goodness.” She jumped. “Poisoned? The King was poisoned?”
“Yes.” Prince Cassian stood back, waiting as Memory scrolled through the information. “It explains coughing up blood. But at least he will be getting treatment as soon as possible.”
Memory cleared her throat. “But…the person who poisoned him. Attempt on the king’s life? Why aren’t the rest of us running for our safety?”
“If something like this happened within the castle walls, then who’s to say nothing will happen outside?” He replied.
“Makes sense.” Memory conceded. The Prince had a point. “Thanks for telling me at least.” She glared at him. “Unlike every other time.”
While he glanced at his watch, Memory got up, yawning.
“I’m gonna go…”
“Alright.” He drawled.
She stared at him, recalling the conversation with Chrysander.
“Hey.” She started, “I can’t do much to help, but don’t overwork yourself. We can’t have two royal children dying within the span of one week.”
He smirked at that. “No need to worry.”
“Who said I’m worrying?”
He chuckled. “I will see you tomorrow, Jade.”
She avoided Diana. She couldn’t confront the woman knowing what was going to happen in two days. Even seeing Elliot didn’t help her mood, and when she refused to go horseback riding, he was left puzzled. Well, as puzzled as Elliot could look.
Queen Beryl was still off limits, and when Memory was on her way back to her room, Zoisite tackled her down.
“What are you getting for my birthday?” She demanded, her grip around Memory’s waist surprisingly strong for an almost eleven year old.
Memory sweat dropped. Zoisite’s birthday party had completely evaded her.
“If I told you,” She started, “It wouldn’t be a surprise!”
Zoisite frowned. “You didn’t get anything, did you? Oh well.” She huffed and Memory scratched her head in embarrassment.
“Was it that obvious?”
“You are horrible at lying.” Zoisite said, crossing her arms. Oh, the irony in that statement. “Just for reference, I either want a jetpack or my own barn.”
Her request wasn’t very subtle, but Memory still forced a smile. “I’ll see what I can do.” Depressed, she moved to open the door to her room but perked up.
“Oh! And if you want to go anywhere, you can ask Prince Cassian. I’m pretty sure he’ll let you out…”
Zoisite’s eyes widened. “Really?!”
Memory nodded. There was no way he’d reject her especially after being the leader of their whole camaraderie when sneaking out. “Really.”
As Zoisite skipped away, Memory wondered how much she’d miss her when she left.
“What’s up?” Memory watched as Prince Cassian darted across the room, phone next to his ear, pen in hand, and papers flying everywhere. It looked like he hadn’t combed his hair in months from the way it was sticking up all over the place.
“No, minister, this Friday my brother will return.” He twitched, trying to scribble something onto a piece of paper. “Yes. That sounds good.”
It was the second time Memory had ever stepped foot into the West Wing. Its tall walls and glass chandeliers managed to shock her into awe as Prince Cassian set down his cell phone and picked up another call, this one from Ringlot’s Queen.
“Yes, your highness. I will get that done immediately.” He replied in a rushed voice to whatever the Queen had said. The pen fell out of his hands and hit the ground, but it went unnoticed by him.
Memory, who had brought him some bland cookies from the kitchen (he wasn’t into sweets), set down the plate and bent over to grab the pen. She looked at the stack of papers he had to sign and mentally cringed.
“Don’t you have someone to help you?” She asked him, once he was done talking. He shook his head nervously and fell onto his chair, exhausted beyond belief.
“Uncle Chrysander is managing some things, but his skills are limited.”
“What about Tsavorite or Tourmaline? Surely they could…” She trailed off, studying his signature carefully.
Prince Cassian shook his head, gesturing to his butler and handing him a folder of papers.
“They are busy planning Zoisite’s party.” He took the pen from Memory,
“Which is obviously more important than running the country.” Memory snorted. “Give me that.”
She snatched the pen back from him and scribbled across one of the forms. Prince Cassian shot up when she held up her paper and matched it to one of his.
“They look the same, eh?” She grinned. “Don’t tell anyone, but I used to forge signatures all the time in grade school since my dad…er, adopted dad, was never around.”
There were other people in the wing, so she needed to be careful. Prince Cassian sighed.
“That is not okay.”
“This,” Memory motioned between them, “Is not okay. And give me the stuff that isn’t really important or you don’t need to read.”
He really didn’t want to, she could tell, but conceded anyway.
And that was how Memory ended up with a three foot tall stack of paper in front of her while the Prince ran around the palace, doing whatever princes did.
Why did I do this for him again?
She scowled, her hand already aching by the time she finished a tenth of the stack.
It was past four by the time Memory finished. Her hands were red and she could no longer feel her fingers. They were so numb that she actually jammed it into a doorknob on the way to the Main Wing out of curiosity and all she felt was a small tickle.
Saved his butt again, she thought ruefully. She really ought to stop doing that.
The object of her thoughts appeared in front of her. He literally ran into her, dressed in a suit and all, with Elliot at his side.
“We will stop at Manchester, then leave for Clithorp. Get the car ready.” Prince Cassian ordered, just as he collided into Memory. She stumbled backwards but Elliot darted forward, steadying her.
She slapped his arm away, mumbling thank you. Elliot bowed and left as ordered, and Prince Cassian rubbed his forehead.
“Clumsy as usual, I see.”
Memory growled. “I just lost both my hands thanks to you, jerk.”
His
eyes softened. “Thank you.” He yanked on his tie. “We are going to clear up the Kendall thing today.”
She peered around his shoulder just as she saw Elliot step outside. “Elliot’s going with you?” She asked, surprised.
He nodded. “I need someone to accompany me, and Chrysander is busy, unfortunately, with other tasks.”
“Ah. I’m going to go now, see if I can get my blood circulating again–” She paused when she felt cold lips touch her cheek.
“Thank you.” He breathed. As she paled, he swiveled around and left.
“…What?”
Memory didn’t notice as Tourmaline rushed by her, nearly in tears, as she walked back to her room in a daze. Her cheek felt really, really cold.
What she did notice was the fact that the same person who’d called her uncivilized, clumsy, and petty among other things had kissed her.
Was it just a Prince thing or like, legitimate?
Groaning, Memory toppled onto the velvet seat into her room, content with remaining there the rest of the day. Her nap was interrupted twice–once by Lulu, who called again giving her updates on the fire situation, and another by Diana–and it was the latter that worried her the most.
“Teal or aquamarine?”
Memory threw a pillow at the head maid’s face. Diana tried again.
“Maroon or burgundy?”
“Is there a difference?!” Memory shot up, hands reaching for another pillow before seeing a line of dresses being rolled into the room. Her jaw dropped, leaving her looking like something akin to a fish.
Diana grinned impishly. “I have no idea what is going on, Princess.”
Memory eyed her feigned look of innocence as her jaw properly returned to its place.
“Is this for Zoisite’s party?”
“Aunt Zoisite!” The topic of the conversation burst into the room, shelves of clothing behind her. “As much as you look awkward in dresses, I can’t have you ruining my party by wearing what you did to dinner last night.”
“This is entirely unnecessary.” Memory moaned, rubbing her hands. They were partially healed–no longer red or aching–but she still couldn’t feel the smooth cloth of the pillow as much as she should’ve.
The Liars Page 20