The Liars (17 page)

“Incarceration? More like pit of hell.” She waved her goodbye, the mention of fifteen years nagging at the back of her mind.

“I can leave? I CAN LEAVE?”

Diana and Alexa stood tall in front of her, trying to shush her but the effort was futile. Memory was already out the door, running down the hallways.

Diana, surprisingly quick on her feet, caught up to her in barely ten seconds.

“We must accompany you at all times.” She said, adjusting the collar of her white shirt. “You are not to be let out of sight.”

“Thank goodness.”

“Princess Jade.” Diana said seriously, putting a hand on her shoulder. “You are the Princess of this country. You will one day lead it along with your brothers. The change is difficult, but I am asking you to behave. We all admire you and believe you can achieve great things, but you must learn.”

Memory, taking no note of her words, dashed off in an effort to find Elliot. She ran into him outside, sitting on the ledge of the fountain with a book in hand.

She peered over his shoulder, in hopes to surprise him, but he turned slightly in order to acknowledge her presence. She resisted the urge to pout.

“How’d you know it was me?”

He edges of his lips curled into the smallest of smiles as he put his book down.

“Lady Jade,” He addressed, facing her. “Would you like to go on a ride?”

“Julian is being weird.”
Memory tried to stroke the white horses mane but he neighed, moving away from her and stomping his feet. “What happened that time, anyway?”

Elliot looked up, the scar on the side of his forehead clearly visible. It made him look gruff, in Memory’s opinion, and less like the pretty boy almost every other male at the palace was.

“I do not know, Lady Jade.” He swung onto Irma’s back, humming soothingly when she made noise in annoyance. “Horses are quite gentle, especially these two.”

Memory followed suit, settling onto the saddle. “Maybe they didn’t like seeing all the people.”

“Hm.”

“How’s your head?” She asked, as they rode out onto the fields. Elliot, being Elliot, made a noncommittal noise which she interpreted as ‘I’m fine’.

They spent the day making rounds around the palace grounds. Memory did most of the talking, asking him about his confinement here and there but mostly talking about her past years. She told him stories of Lulu, referring to her as a friend.

“She’s like a sister.” Memory said, smiling to herself. “There was one time we got lost at a county fair during a school field trip, and we slept under the stands. Some janitors found us in the morning.”

“County…fair?”

Memory face-palmed. “Oh boy, we’ve got work to do.” She trekked ahead. “You’ve never been to a county fair?”

Elliot shook his head, and she bristled, irritated.

“Yeah, you haven’t lived until you’ve
had cotton candy. Or corn dogs.”

“This must be very different, then, Lady Jade.” He motioned to the fountain and the gates.

“Duly noted.” Memory patted Julian as they slowed to a stop. “I think the biggest difference is the noise level. Whecombe Pass is really quite, since it’s a small town, but there’s always people laughing and crying and running around town. Here…it’s kinda sad. Quiet.” She lowered his eyes, hoping he wouldn’t see the sadness that was about to overcome her. He didn’t respond, thankfully, and after a few minutes she regained her composure and smiled widely.

“Last one to the stables is a rotten egg!” She galloped away, and moments later Elliot passed her effortlessly.

“You shouldn’t be with Elliot so much.”

Memory, who was in the process of writing a report on the economic system of Helviera, set her pen down and sighed.

“What are you doing
here, Zoisite?”

“
Aunt
Zoisite!” She jabbed her in the chest. “I turn eleven in less than a week.”

“Really?” Memory questioned dryly. The girl had been parading around the palace telling anyone who’d listen it was her birthday. While she couldn’t blame her for being excited, Memory herself had never had a birthday party, and wasn’t sure how fun it would be. Especially here.

“Yes! Anyway,” Zoisite glanced at Memory’s paper momentarily, frowning. “Helviera’s economic system is similar to Canada, not South America.”

Dang…
Memory frowned, making the changes while awed at her intelligence.

“Like I was saying, Tourmaline and Emerald noticed how
you’re always with Elliot.” Zoisite’s lips contorted into a mix between a grimace and a smirk. “I don’t think that’s smart.”

“Why not? He’s nice. And,” Memory paused for dramatic effect, “It’s none of your business who I hang out with.”

“Yeah but…his father is Balthasar.” Zoisite scrunched her nose. “He’s horrid.”

“Whatever.” Memory ignored the girl as she followed her around, even into the bathroom, and it was when she turned on the shower that she shooed her away.

She emerged from her bathroom ten minutes later, feeling fresh and content. It was time to visit grandmother again.

The meeting didn’t go too well. Emerald was there and one-upped her again. Memory wondered what the girl was after, and maybe it was the same thing that Memory was enlisted to do, but still. It was really annoying to walk out with Emerald sneering at her.

That night, Memory was called down to the parlor at Tsavorite’s request. Apparently, her husband and son had arrived.

Her husband was a short stubby man with a curling mustache and long arms. Malden Jackson, Memory remembered.

She curtsied as he bowed, and Tsavorite wrapped an arm around her.

“Isn’t she wonderful?” She said, “It truly is a blessing to have her back.”

Memory groaned inwardly. Her aunt was more and more like Diana by the minute.

“Myron!” Tsavorite shouted–well, as loud as she could in front of the family–and Memory’s gaze fell upon the taller man standing next to Malden.

And promptly wondered how someone like
Tsavorite could have a child so…cow-like. Well, he looked nice enough, and Memory of all people wasn’t keen on judging on looks, but if his gangly appearance wasn’t enough, he even had the gall to stare down at her and smirk haughtily.

And I’m cousins with this guy.

“Myron,” Chrysander shook his hand, “How have you been?”

Myron suddenly howled loudly. “I challenge you to a joust!”

Chrysander sighed. “Again?”

“Where are your manners, boy?” Tsavorite chastised as Myron cackled. She turned to Memory, leaning close. “He and Chrysander joust every time they meet. And my idiot of a son always loses.”

Memory couldn’t help but laugh, and as the family sat down on the seats in the parlor, eating biscuits and sipping tea, her eyes were glued to the spot where she imagined Prince Cassian would be.

Malden and Myron had arrived for Zoisite’s birthday party, which was famed to be the best party of the year. Memory was pretty sure her birthday party wouldn’t include games like pin the tail on the donkey or anything of the sort–more likely than not, it would be just like the ball held for the Vivistes.

But the next day, when she went out to meet Elliot by the stables (where he usually was, it was either there or near the fountain), she found Chrysander and Myron suiting up with armor she didn’t even know existed in the twenty-first century.

“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-fo
urth!” 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.