The Liars (9 page)

Elliot’s flat expressi
on didn’t change. “Of course, Princess.” He turned to leave when Memory stopped him.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You do not need permission, Princess.”

“Please don’t say P
rincess at the end of every sentence.” Memory requested, busy looking right and left for any sign of a broomstick. “It’s kinda annoying.”

“I apologize, P
rincess. What else am I supposed to say?”

“Jade wor
ks.” Memory spotted Diana turn around the corner and immediately stiffened behind the statue. She put a finger up to her lips, motioning for Elliot to be silent.

“Ah, master Elliot.”
Memory heard Diana say in her sweetest voice. “Have you seen her highness, Princess Jade?”

Elliot’s eyes flickered towards her, and Memory shook her head making a zipping motion on her lips. He looked back at Diana.

“I am afraid not.”

“That’s a pity. Let me know if you see her–she still hasn’t completed last week’s work.”

When the last of Diana’s footsteps faded away, Memory let out her breath, laughing.

“Goodness. For a moment there I thought you’d tell her the truth.”

“You need to complete your work, Princess.”

Memory groaned.
Now he was just being irritating. “Jade. Or Lady Jade, if you have to. Anything but princess. That word is going to drive me crazy.”

“As you wish, L
ady Jade.”

Memory stared at him, but forced herself to prey her eyes away. It was tiring
to look at him so much.

“Have you seen my brother?
Prince Cassian, I mean.”

Elliot nodded stiffly. “He left for Japan.”

She jumped. “What? When?”

“This morning.”

“When will he be back?”

“Next week.” Elliot bowed. “Excuse me, princess.”

Memory’s jaw hung low, still reeling from the fact her only sort-of-ally had abandoned in a tank of piranhas. How was she going to survive? Would the madness ever end?

“Princess Jade?”

“Elliot, I said–oh, uncle.” Memory nodded in greeting. He chuckled and stroked his small goatee. To her, he looked like a younger, much friendlier and definitely less scarier version of King Darius.

“I see. Running away from the head maid again?”

Memory paused. “How did you know?”

He laughed uproariously. “Everyone knows. Ah, we haven’t had such excitement in the palace in years.”

“Glad to know my pain brings you amusement.” She retorted, planning her next move. Diana had headed left, towards the kitchens, and she knew the best way to avoid her was to sneak into places the maids had no access too.

“I was about to go for a joust, but if you’d like, I could help you hide.”

Memory smiled with glee. “Really?”

“But of course.” He leaned forward and whispered, “This
house is full of secrets.”

He grinned and led her to the portrait hanging across the entrance to the dining hall. Memory hadn’t seen it before, but she’d only been in the dining hall once, during that disastrous dinner on the first day.

It was a simple painting, one of not a person but a vase of flowers. Memory rather liked it.

“Watch.” Chrysander fingered the side of the golden frame around the painting, and there was a quiet click. The painting slid sideways.

“No. Way.” She was dumbfounded. A cough itched at the back of her throat but thankfully it didn’t make it. “You can’t be serious.”

“Follow me, your highness.”

The painting revealed a dark and unfinished tunnel. The ground was flooding with at least an inch of water, and the sides were made of soil and trash.

“Do these tunnel
s stretch all around the palace?”

Chrysander pressed the button on the painting again and moved deeper into the tunnel as it shut. The tunnel plunged into darkness, but only momentarily, as Chrysander pulled out his cell phone.

“I do not know if you remember the story of Harold and Crystal Eastcote?” He asked her, using his cell phone to light the halls.

Memory distinctly recalled reading about the pair but couldn’t articulate any details.

“Not to worry, then. My grandfather, your great grandfather, Harold was married to Crystal. They didn’t get along too well because he wouldn’t let her leave their room except for formal occasions. She, after she had their only child, had these tunnels made so she could sneak around the palace.”

“She was a pretty darn awesome woman, then.” Memory said, following her uncle as he took the right path when the tunnel split into two.

“She was. But was caught and Harold divorced her. He soon married Spinal. That itself is another story, but Harold never got rid of the tunnels. It was an effective way to get into the forbidden rooms of the palace.”

Memory gasped. “Does it go to every room?”

“Every single one, I promise you. Except bathrooms.”

“That’s
still like, four hundred rooms. Did you memorize the pathways?”

Chrysander chuckled. “There’s a map. But I can’t reveal too much, can I?”

As she laughed along with him, they climbed higher into the tunnel. It led to a wooden ceiling which he pushed open, revealing his private living quarters.

“We just crawled out of your floor.” Memory realized,
watching him replace the carpeted tile of his room. The tile slid back into place, like no one ever knew there was a hidden passageway entrance there.

“It
’s certainly something.”

Chrysander had to work, there was some conference call or something dealing with foreign relations, but he let her stay in his room.

His room was bigger than hers, and had a bathroom double the size. Memory spent the majority of her time in it, making faces in the mirror. It was an effective way to kill time, really.

She was about to leave when she heard a female voice outside, high-pitched and annoying.

Tourmaline.

Memory pressed her close to the door, hoping to catch some of the conversation. She only caught bits and pieces until the two came closer to the bathroom. She hid underneath the sink but the footsteps stopped. They were right outside the restroom.

“Brother, please help me. I can’t–”

“Sister.” Chrysander interrupted.
“Both you and I know that this wouldn’t have happened if you had married Jace when you were supposed to.”

“I know. I know, you think I don’t think about it every night? Every waking moment? I pretend to not care but I do,
and it kills me inside. Please, brother.” She begged.

“You know my position,
sister.”

“She’s
my
daughter. Chrysander, I have to–”

The door opened and Chrysander stepped inside, closing it as quick as he’d opened it.

“Goodbye, Tourmaline.”

He locked and walked over to the bathtub, resting on the edge of it and pinching his nose. Memory remained still, staring across the bathroom to where he was sitting.

He stared back at her, and even when Tourmaline’s steps echoed into silence, he didn’t say anything.

“What was that?” Memory demanded. “She has a daughter?”

Chrysander said nothing, staring at the ceiling. Shaking, Memory crawled out from her hiding spot and stood up, her joints aching.

“T-thanks for letting me hide. Um, I’ll be on my way.”

Memory walked back to her room in a daze. What had Tourmaline wanted so bad she begged her brother for help? And a daughter? What daughter?

She found Diana sitting in the middle of the room, broomstick in hand.

She
wasn’t happy.

As soon as Memory made a move for the study room
Diana got up after her, and a chase around the lounge ensued.

“Wait, Diana, you can’t hit me!” She cried. “I’m
the Princess!”

“The King gave me orders to make sure you study, and he said any way to enforce it is okay.” Diana threw the broomstick at her but Memory dodged it.

“Okay, okay! But before you hit me,” Memory picked up the plate of biscuits from the coffee table and threw them at the house maid one by one, “Does Tourmaline have a daughter?”

Diana chased her around the velvet seats. “No–what gives you that idea?”

“Never mind, then.” Memory threw the last of the cookies and then flinched as Diana barreled towards her, ready to strangle her.

Well, on the upside, she finished her homework. There was a bruise here and then there, but nothing that couldn’t be covered using makeup.

Once she was done, she excused herself to go talk to Queen Beryl. She was here for one sole reason–to get the old woman to change her Will. Without
Prince Cassian here ordering her about left and right, she thought getting close to her personally was the way to go.

Except, much to her annoyance, the redhead was sitting
in her spot, talking excitedly with the sick woman. And when Memory entered, she turned to smile wickedly, like she knew exactly what she was up to.

“Grandmother.” Memory
curtsied, taking a seat on the other side of the bed. “I’m sorry it’s been too long.”

Queen
Beryl hushed her. “I have been looked after, so not to worry.” She gestured to Emerald who smirked.

“I brought you cookies, Aunt Beryl.” She picked up a tray of freshly made cookies, and a delicious smell wafted into Memory’s nose. “Your favorite sugar cookies.” She added sweetly.

“You are too kind, dear.” Queen Beryl patted Emerald on the head.

The three conversed for a bit, Memory trying to get as much input as she could. But it was clear all of her grandmother’s attention was on Emerald, so she left, feeling miffed.

Another week rushed by without any excitement. Life was dull, duller than Memory had expected it to. All she
did was study–study things Diana told her she should’ve learned years ago–and gain weight by eating so much.

Although, she and the
head maid had a customary chase through the palace every morning. It had become quite competitive, Memory waking up earlier and earlier every day to beat Diana and get a head start. And it was all worth it, especially because she couldn’t get enough sleep because of the nightmares.

Many workers at the palace found it amusing, and while some sold her out, many helped her hide. The head cook always offered to let her stay in the extra food storage, but after the first two times Diana had caught her, she turned to the chauffeurs. So on this particular morning, she was lounging in one of the unused cars in the back of the garage.

“Would you like some biscuits, princess?” Jones asked her, pulling on his white gloves. Memory shook her head, her hands on the wheel of the car.

“No thank you. Letting me in here was enough.”
She coughed, holding her throat, and Jones blinked.

“Are you alright?”

Memory smiled. “I’ve been sick for a while. I don’t know. But thanks for letting me sit here.”

Jones managed a small smile. “Of course.”

“Where are you going?”

“The airport.”

Memory groaned. Jones was a tough man, and gave short answers that frustrated her to no end, like Elliot.

“Why?”

“Prince Cassian is arriving with the Viviste family.”

Memory frowned at that, but bid the man goodbye. She
played with the buttons in the car some more, wishing it could be hers, but then got bored and left the garage. Diana would never find her there anyway.

She ran to the stables,
making quick enemies with a horse named Julian. He was white and slightly smaller than Irma, but Irma didn’t let her touch her unless Elliot was around.

“Give him an apple, L
ady Jade.”

Memory grinned at Elliot who’d just arrived. She grabbed an apple from the fresh supply in the bin and threw it to Julian. The horse neighed in thanks and bit into it quickly. But when she tried to pet him he stepped back, sneering at her.

“Thanks anyway, Elliot.”

Elliot didn’t respond and swung himself onto Irma, locking his feet into the stirrup.

“Wait!” Memory called before he left. “Do…do you think I could ride one?”

“They are your brother’s, L
ady Jade.”

“I don’t think he’d mind.” Memory insisted hopefully. “And he’s not around, anyway, I think he left yesterday for a conference in Russia.”

A few moments passed. Relief washed over Memory as Elliot nodded, helping her onto Julian. Julian didn’t like her, but when Elliot murmured softly and gave him another apple, he complied.

“You’re really good with horses.” She noted. Elliot got
onto Irma once Memory felt comfortable on Julian.