The Liars (19 page)

Kendall Banks wasn’t happy.

“Not cool, dude. You just made me lose a couple hundred bucks right there.” He sneered. “Not that it matters to you.”

Prince Cassian
wasn’t fazed as his expression hardened with a steely resolve.

“I can hardly discuss the family heirloom in the vicinity
of your customers.”

“That
again?” Kendall slid into the seat across from Memory, hands clenched into fists. “I’m not saying anything until my lawyer is here.”

At that, a cruel glint lit up in
the Prince’s eyes.

“I have eight guards surrounding the area, tw
o are on the ship at the moment, and another six at your nearest residence.” He picked up a grape from a leftover meal and placed it between two of his fingers. “You know the rules–you don’t follow along, everything you own...” The grape was crushed between his hands, and Kendall Banks choked out a laugh as the little girl settled onto his lap, playing with her brown curls.

Memory knew he was lying. Only four guards had come with them to Clithorp, but didn’t say anything. It was probably a tactic of his to extract information for his purposes.

Putting it that way…I’d hate to have him as an enemy.

“I always knew you’d be an insufferable prick when you grew up.”

Whether it was out of defense or to just be pure annoying, Memory piped up, “You should meet his older brother, then. You’d
love
him.”

While
Prince Cassian gave her a dirty look, Kendall Banks studied her carefully.

“Jade.” He finally said, probably thinking back to what
she’d said about being second cousins. “You’re alive?”

“No
. You’re just hallucinating.” Memory quipped dryly, one corner of her mouth lifting up in a sardonic grin.

He glanced back and forth between the ‘siblings’. “The infuria
ting duo, eh?”

Memory shrugged, but jumped when
Kendall pounded his fist on the table. The plates and silverware clattered.

“Cut the shit, Eastcote. What the hell do you want?”

Her opinion of the man was sinking by the second, especially because of the language he was using in front of the little girl–his daughter.

“Where were you on the eighth of October?”
Prince Cassian questioned. He said this cordially, but with a clear underlying threat.

“How am I supposed to know?” Kendall sneered. “I go to too many parties to count.”

At that, the glint in the Prince’s eyes erupted into flames. Memory was suddenly very, very scared.

“There were no records of you boarding any ship or airplane. Your daughter was left off at your coworkers place. Chadwick Philips was recorded walking into a sports shop and buying a ski mask. Care to explain?”

Kendall pursed his lips, clearly angry. His knuckles turned bright red.

“
I’ll tell you what I told that idiot investigator. I have nothing to do with Chadwick. I didn’t even know the heirloom had been stolen until it was in the news.” He gritted out. “And how the hell did you get that information? I swear to god, I’ll charge you for–”

At that, Memory leapt at the chance to speak. “So you were in Sugrove? Someone probably snuck you into the palace. You got there using a private jet, I think, which is how you
got there undetected. And then–”

Her mouth snapped shut when the table Kendall had been sitting at was suddenly chucked at her face. She dodged it, but one of the legs grazed her right arm, leaving behind a thin trail of red.

The little girl, Lilyana, shrieked. “Daddy!”

He snarled at her, cursing, and
Prince Cassian dived towards her as another table was hurled towards them.

“SHUT UP!” Plates shattered on the ground, silverware was thrown into the air, and
Prince Cassian struggled to avoid the flying objects.

He fished his phone out of his pocket, but Kendall
slapped it out of his hands. It clattered to the floor in pieces as the large man punched the Prince in the face. He grabbed him by the collar.

“What do you know, you piece of shit?!”

Prince Cassian struggled to breathe, and horrified, Memory reached for the nearest object–a napkin dispenser–and threw it at Kendall’s back. He didn’t budge.

“Why?”
The Prince wheezed. “Why do you hate my family so much?”

“Why?” Kendall slammed his head onto a table. “I’ll tell you why!”

Blood spurted out of the Prince’s mouth, and Memory realized he’d probably never been in a full on fight before. She pulled her own phone out, tapping the keyboard quickly.

“
Guards!” She shouted into the phone, and when Kendall heard, he made a leap for her. She jumped onto the counter, kicking whatever she could at him. It didn’t hinder him in the least as he grabbed her arm and flipped her over onto the floor like a sack of flour.

Lilyana was still shrieking.

Kendall’s foot made contact with her ribs, and Memory thought she heard a crunching sound.

Uh oh.

He moved to kick her again but she rolled over, a pang of sharp pain shooting through her chest. Her sharp nails scratched at his skin as she aimed a misjudged kick at his groin. It was avoided swiftly, and his fist slammed down on her shoulder. He was about to kick her again when the doors slammed open. As the guards pulled him back, he put up a fight, shouting so loudly his voice became horse.

“Your father killed me!” He shouted over the voices of
the guards, struggling to wrench himself free. “He killed my unborn child!”

Memory saw a flicker of deep sadness shine in his dark eyes, but was soon replaced with pure, intense hatred.

Actually, it was more like
loathing
.

“I’ll get you!” He cried. “I’LL KILL YOU ALL!”

He choked out a cry, and with a final tug the guards had pulled him out of the restaurant, locking his hands into a set of cuffs. The last guard took a crying Lilyana away.

What just happened?

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to a hospital?”

“I’m fine.” Prince Cassian bit out, clearly in pain as Memory dabbed a wet towel at his lip. He leaned away, and was he…whining?

“Sissy.” Memory snarled, annoyed when he turned his face away again. She threw the towel to the ground, exasperated. “That was a horrible thing to do.”

“It was your idea.”

Memory sighed. “I know. That’s why I feel bad. So let me help you.”

Prince Cassian slid away from her, afraid. The two were back in the hotel, and after Kendall Banks had been taken to the police station, the Prince and Memory–being royalty–were allowed back home. Or in this case, their temporary sanctuary.

“I’ll call Alexa, then. She’s good at this kind of thing.” Memory told him, standing up and stretching. Her abdomen hurt once more, a large bruise stretching from her neck to her belly button turning an ugly purple.
She was about to leave when a sudden thought struck her.

“What…what did he mean?”

Prince Cassian looked up, daintily dabbing a tissue on the corner of his mouth.

“When he said your dad killed his unborn child?” She clarified, and
Prince Cassian froze, eyes darting to the floor.

“I…I do no
t know.”

They were quiet for some time. Memory shuffled back and forth, wondering if it would be counterintuitive to leave the man to his own devices, especially bruised and scratched as he was.

And the porcelain doll named Cassian Eastcote breaks.
She thought wryly.

“Yeah…I’ll be in my room.” She said timidly, before the silence she thought they needed stretched into something more awkward. But it wasn’t her that interrupted the silence. The phone buzzing in her pocket did.

“Hello?”

There was a cry on the other end.
“Jade, Jade, oh Jade! Where is your brother? I’ve been trying to reach him for hours!”

“Tsavorite?” Her aunt sounded shaken, almost scared. Definitely not like the composed woman she knew. “Sorry, Cassian’s phone broke–”

Tsavorite shouted incoherently, leading Prince Cassian to stand up and lean unbearably close to Memory in an effort to hear what was going on. Miffed, Memory put it on speaker.

“Tsavorite! Please, I can’t understand–”

The woman on the other end began to sob heavily, and Prince Cassian took a deep breath.

“Lady Tsavorite. Is everything alright?”

There was a short pause as Memory and her ‘brother’ waited patiently.

“His majesty
–he, he’s been coughing up blood!”

Chapter 1
3

The news of the king being sick was enough to send everyone over the edge. There was a constant stream of maids running back and forth, and when Prince Cassian and Memory arrived earlier than expected (they’d wanted to stay in Clithorp to interrogate Kendall Banks, legally, but were forced to put the Prince’s top workers in place instead), there was a crowd struggling to pass through the palace gates, almost trampling each other over with their clunky cameras.

Tsavorite, as expected, was in tears, Zoisite was confused, and Chrysander stood around awkwardly as his clingy fiancé tried to get him to
talk. He didn’t even utter a word.

They didn’t even notice how the right side of
Prince Cassian’s face was completely swollen, or how Memory limped around with a hunched back as she tried to breathe properly.

No broken bones, at least.

Even Diana was out of it.

“What happened?” Memory implored.

The head maid was far too frazzled to pay heed to Memory’s question, and it was when Memory yanked the broom from her shaking hands that the woman looked up.

“Princess?”

“What’s going on?”

Diana sighed softly, glancing at
Prince Cassian and back at Memory.

“I, I don’t know.” She replied, and Memory leapt at the chance to grab another maid and pull her aside. The young girl looked shaken. After minutes of awkward silence,
Prince Cassian managed to make her talk.

“I don’t know exactly what happened, your highness.” The maid said apologetically, bowing. “Lady Tourmaline was delivering
dinner to his majesty and he began to cough until he fainted.”

The tip of her fingers gently caressed her lower lip.

Coughing up…blood?

It came as a surprise when Beryl requested her presence the next day, and of course, Emerald was nowhere to be around. Memory bristled at being thought of as a second-choice, but obliged anyway, knowing this was the primary reason she’d come here regardless of all the chaos that had been going on.

Her summoning was sudden, though. She hoped the tumult of wild curls on her head wouldn’t bother Queen Beryl too much.

The phone she carried around buzzed, and Memory cast a cursory look at the gadget–it was Lulu, and much to her shock, a list of thirteen missed calls from the girl. Promising herself to call back later, she entered Queen Beryl’s quarters, heaving a sigh.

“Er–your highness?”

The old woman had gained at least a dozen wrinkles. Her face was like a shriveled prune. There was a large machine next to the bed, connecting to her arms by thin tubes and needles.

She’s not going to last much longer.

Queen Beryl took deep breaths, her small eyes following Memory’s every move. It only made her more nervous, and she almost tripped over her own two feet.

“My…my son…” Queen Beryl breathed painfully. Spit pooled onto her lips and a maid rushed forth, dabbing a handkerchief on the Queen’s lips and dashing away as fast as she’d come. “Is he…?”

“Oh! King Darius?” Memory hesitated to sit, wary of her ‘grandmother’s’ sick condition. “He’s okay. I think. The country’s best doctors are here so don’t worry.”

“No.”

Memory coughed. “No?”

“He…he is not a good man, Jade.”

Shocked couldn’t begin to describe Memory. She was rendered speechless.

“This family…this family will crumble.” Queen Beryl said sadly, her bony hands shaking. “They’ve tried to cover up everything but
there are always records, always–”

“Always what?” Memory croaked. “What happened? King Darius–he’s your son, you can’t–”

“I’ve failed.” Queen Beryl whispered, and suddenly her body writhed in pain. Her eyes froze as tears pooled onto her cheeks, and her arms and legs twisted painfully.

Memory screamed. The maids pulled her back, yelling for help.

“It’s okay!” One told her in a soothing voice. “She’s okay. It happens often.”

Regardless, Memory left the room shaking.

That night, Memory paced back and forth in trepidation. What was going on? Was King Darius okay? What about Kendall, what about the hullaballoo with him?

“Diana, could you call my brother for me? He’s not picking up his phone.”

Diana broke into a small smile. “I assume
Prince Cassian?”

“Yeah, when do I ever talk to Prince Edward?” Memory said, twiddling her thumbs nervously. She stared out the window, the dark sky finally overtaking the hues of light the setting sun was emanating. 

“You two are rather close.”

“Thank you, Diana, for that lovely observation.” She bit sarcastically. “Now where is he?”

“He left, my dear.”

“What?” Memory jumped. “Now? Why?”

Diana grimaced. “He leaves every year on the night before the twenty–fourth of October.”

“But…what about King Darius? And Queen Beryl–she’s getting worse.” For Memory, it was an emergency. She needed to talk to
Prince Cassian right away; and what she meant by right away was she meant
this instant
or else she’d have a meltdown of epic proportions.

“His highness is near the outskirts of the city, visiting your mother.” Diana told her, ignoring all her questions.

Mother?

Realization dawned on Memory.

“She…”

“You were quite young when she passed, dear.” Diana
said in a soothing voice, and Memory frowned, lost in thought. The pensive expression that adorned her face didn’t leave her as she said,

“I’m going too.”

Her head maid huffed in annoyance.

“Not in those clothes, Princess.”

“Of course not! I’m not stupid, you know.” Memory responded scathingly, rummaging through her closet for something appropriate to wear. She settled on a gray dress, reluctantly, as it was the only thing she could wear to a cemetery.

“Wait.” Memory stated, pausing. “Can I leave? Don’t I need permission?”

Diana shook her head. “His majesty is unconscious. For now, Prince Edward is in charge. And in this chaos, I do not think this is a big issue.”

“Oh. Okay then.”

Maybe I should tell Zoisite…no, never mind. Bad idea.

“Why does he still visit his mother, though?” Memory asked innocently, shrugging off her cardigan as she shut the door. Diana was still listening from the other side. “It’s been a long time since she died.”

She could hear Diana gasp in shock.

“Dear, I know you must not have had a stable family, moving from one place to the next. But those who pass have
the biggest right upon us, Princess.”

Memory snorted quietly. “But don’t the dead want us to be happy and not spend our time crying over them?”

“Yes, but his highness is simply paying his respects to the late queen.” Diana grinned as Memory walked out of the closet, not happy with her clothing but not totally annoyed.

The head maid held up a pair of matching heels. “Beautiful shoes will take you to beautiful places.”

Memory, while hating the prospect of wearing heels (to a cemetery no less) didn’t disobey as Diana gave her a threatening look. Her eyes softened when Memory slipped them on. As she fiddled with the straps, she noticed a silver glint from Diana’s side pocket.

“What’s that?”

Diana gave her a confused look, and when Memory pointed to her pocket, she giggled. “Oh this? What a nice time to talk about it.” She pulled it out, and with disappointment, Memory realized it with a pen.

“Don’t be so disappointed, dear.” The head maid chastised her. “This pen was the pen my mother used to sign her vows with my father. It is the last thing I have of her.” She explained softly, examining the pen and then tucking it back into her pocket. “I take it everywhere with me.”

Guilt plunged into Memory’s stomach. “Oh. That’s really cool, Diana.”

My mother…
Memory couldn’t finish her own thoughts, lest she start crying.

The whole “girl’s weren’t allowed on the first floor thing” didn’t faze Memory at all. In fact, most of the occupants were used to seeing her here and there, but even then, Alexa, the maid accompanying her, was uncomfortable as she knocked on Prince Edward’s door. The person who opened it, presumably his butler, waited patiently as Alexa explained things to him. He nodded, leaving to relay the message to Prince Edward.

Prince Cassian
’s older brother was certainly an odd one. Memory didn’t see him around often, and she couldn’t determine if he was nice or mean by her standards yet.

He was
nicer
looking though, if that helped at all.

Prince Edward walked out all of a sudden, pulling down the sleeves of his shirt. He’d grown a beard, as if he had no time to shave.

“Oh, Jade.” He breathed, as if he hadn’t known she would be there. “Excuse me, I need to go sort things out with father–” A group of guards followed him out as he turned right and down the halls.

“Wait! Can I go outside the palace?”

He barely paused, rushing by. After fishing a pen out of his pocket, he scribbled something onto a scrap of paper and handed it to her. “At this time? Take Robert with you.”

Memory breathed a sigh of relief.

Poor guy.

Despite it being almost one am, Robert was kind enough to drive her almost thirty miles down south. Two maids accompanied her on the ride, neither of them as effervescent or bubbly as Diana, and when Memory arrived, they refused to accompany her. Memory, so used to being followed around for the most part, wondered why.

“His highness
won’t allow us to go.” One of the girls said, bowing. “We will wait here.”

Memory pointed to the gravesite, aghast. “So he just sits there? Alone, with no guards or anything? Doesn’t Prince Edward come too?”

The two maids stared at each other, uncomfortable. Memory finally got the hint and bid them good night, before descending the steep hill.

There were only a few graves here and there, with large trees overshadowi
ng most of the area. As expected, large statues were erected, and Memory recognized many of the names; Harold Eastcote, Ara Eastcote, and even Spinal.

She was Harold’s first wife? No, second.

The lack of sleep didn’t help sate the incoherence of her thoughts at all, but she lightened up when she saw a small figure crouched near the gravestone. The bounce in her steps lessened to a soft stroll as she suddenly felt anxious. Whether it was anxiousness towards the situation, or Prince Cassian in particular, she had no idea.

“Jade.”

Memory jumped. “How did you know it was me?” There were no lights, anywhere. The only source of light was the moon.

Prince Cassian
let out a long breath. “The smell of stubbornness was lingering about.” He didn’t say it teasingly like he usually did when talking to her.

“Was that an insult?” Memory questioned, sitting down and patting the ground around her to make sure there were no twigs around to scar her. “Who’s the one who spends the night at a cemetery, alone, with no guards or anything? You know, the more I talk to you, the more I’m convinced you need to be admitted to a mental institution.”

There was the sound of shuffling, and suddenly Memory could smell his cologne. Which didn’t smell bad at all. It was quite nice, actually.

She wrinkled her nose.
Great. Now I’m the crazy one.

“I’m assuming you have something important to say since you came all this way?” He was sitting right next to her.
“At least you didn’t sneak out…or did you?”

“I got permission. Prince Edward’s in charge.”

“Yes. So, what do you want?”

“Er.” Memory recalled the conversation with Queen Beryl, but hearing the overwhelming sadness in decided it was best to leave it.
“Can’t I just talk to you when I want to? You weren’t picking up your phone.”

“No.”

“Oh. Well. I just wanted to come. That’s all.”
I came all this way for nothing.
She thought sadly, but when she read the words on the gravestone in front of her, she thought otherwise. “Queen Opal, 1969 to 1998. Born as Cecile Stronghold?” She gave Prince Cassian a questioning glance, which obviously, he couldn’t see.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed the female names in the household.”

“Um.” Truthfully, the names
had
struck her as odd, especially Tourmaline and Zoisite, but had she completely overlooked the fact that they had all been…gem names?

“Females who marry into the family change their names.”

“And the males?”

“There’s no requirement for them.”