Memory's Wake Omnibus: The Complete Illustrated YA Fantasy Series (44 page)

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” Waylan nodded as he cleaned the blackboard, small clouds of chalk puffing under his hand. “I can tell from your constant questioning in class that you’re going to be a clever and challenging student.”

“I actually have another question, is that okay? I was wondering if there was some way that something, like some spell, could change a person’s Spark of Connection?”

Waylan stopped clearing up and peered down at her over his glasses. “Princess Memory, there’s no need to keep up this pretense.”

“Oh.”
Busted.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to turn you in. It is a sincere pleasure to have you as a student. I am already impressed by your insight and curiosity.”

A strange sensation struck Memory.
Is that what pride feels like?
Memory looked at her feet.

“Rest assured, young princess, you are always welcome in my classroom. It’s wonderful that you’re making an effort to learn more, regardless of where some may consider your place to be.”

“Right? Man, I thought I was only one to think Hayes is getting a bit pushy about where a princess’s place should be.”

Waylan shook his head. “Hayes may seem harsh sometimes, but we do follow him for a reason. It was his diligent leadership that saved us and kept us hidden all those years. But I must admit, I do have my concerns with how he is running things. I find myself challenging him more and more during Council meetings, and not just over matters pertaining to the school. I’m afraid that it goes far deeper than that.”

Fired up by finding a co-conspirator against Hayes, Memory had to cut off her next comment regarding things that go far deeper and Hayes’s ass when another Councilor walked in.

Waylan stood and gave the man a hearty embrace. They looked similar, both bald and wearing glasses, but while Waylan was round and chubby, the other Councilor was stocky, solid, and tall enough to make his weight intimidating rather than endearing. She’d seen him at some Council meetings but didn’t know his name. He always stayed quiet and looked grumpy.

The wizard glanced at her and bowed briskly. “Princess.”

“I’m really not convincing anyone, am I?”

“Memory, this is my brother, Bedevere.”

“Taking some interest in exploring your magic ability?” Bedevere said. By his tone, Memory didn’t think he expected an answer, and he continued too quickly for her to give one. “If you’ve become amenable to investigating your powers and past, I would be very interested to assist. I’ve many questions I’d love the chance to direct to you.”

And there it is, back to being the lab rat.
Memory tried to keep the groan out of her reply. “What kind of questions?”

“I know you must be keen to study your own powers, but to be honest I’m more interested in learning about the technology of the lands you grew up in. I’m in possession of some fantastic schematics, brought in as imports from a fae supplier last century. My colleagues tell me they are fakes I paid too highly for and that there couldn’t be such fantastical devices existing outside Avall, but I feel theoretically they should work.”

Memory blinked a few times as she tried to understand the stream of information.

Waylan cleared his throat. “My brother has somewhat of a fascination with the world that we left behind. He has some rather… controversial views on the matter.”

“Like maybe I didn’t grow up in Hell after all?”

Bedevere smiled for the first time. “Indeed.”

Memory smiled back.

Eloryn and Memory took the aerial walkway that connected the newer palace to the old keep on their way to the Round Room, trailed by Eloryn’s usual entourage. Eloryn had read all about Caermaellan Castle as she grew up, studying its floor plans and dreaming about what it really looked like. She knew all its history and admired how her family and architects had worked to preserve the ancient stone keep at the heart of the palace when they came to expansions. The gray slabs of stone were at odds with the decorative grandeur built up around it, but somehow it worked.

Rain washed the windows on both sides of them, making the view streaked and blurry. Barely mid-afternoon, Eloryn felt ready for bed rather than her fifth meeting for the day. The crinoline cage under her scarlet gown felt too heavy and her bodice too tight. She rubbed her eyes and tried to keep pace with Memory, who skipped ahead, full of energy.

“The meeting isn’t even to start for a while yet. I never thought I’d see you so keen to be there,” Eloryn said.

“I don’t care about the meeting,” Memory laughed like the idea was crazy. “Waylan said he’d be there early, and I wanted a chance to talk to him.”

The twins stepped out of the walkway into a hall that lead up to the Round Room. Roen was walking toward them and Memory ran up to meet him. They whispered together, and Eloryn didn’t catch what they said as she caught up.

At the end of the hall, Waylan could be seen through the entryway into the Round Room. Memory waved to him. She gave Roen a soft punch in the shoulder. “You two kids stop and have a chat. I’m going ahead to see—”

A thunder crack of sound shook through Eloryn’s skull.

A powerful explosion blew outwards from the Round Room. The rumble of flame deafened Eloryn as her mind caught up with the situation around her. Shards of exploded furniture and stone shot toward them.

“Beirsinn fair nalldomh!” Eloryn yelled, unable to hear her voice over the ringing in her ears. Tapestries flew off the walls, creating a barrier that the projectiles thudded against like hail. Small, sharper fragments of wood and glass cut against the fabric, some pieces piercing through. Air rushed past the barrier, hot and pungent, filled with chokingly thick smoke.

One of her guards grabbed Eloryn from behind and tackled her to the ground softly. Others shouted around her.

“I’m fine. Off me,” Eloryn ordered, but the smoke made her voice raspy. She cleared the vapor from the air with a behest and the guard helped her to her feet.

Beside her, Roen had Memory shielded in an embrace. A rage of jealousy fired through Eloryn, until she realized that Memory was forcing herself forward, trying to push past Roen who was holding her tight to keep her from running into the Round Room, or what remained of it.

“Is everyone all right?” Eloryn called out, her voice muffled in her ears.

“We have to help Waylan,” Memory said, desperately trying to get out of Roen’s grasp.

“I don’t think you can,” he said.

The guards tore down the tapestry barrier and hobbled over the crumbled landscape to assess the damage. Red splashed the stone entryway to the room, and Eloryn looked the other way.

When she did, she met the gaze of a man watching from further up the hallway. He wore a servant’s uniform and had terror all over his face. The man backed away, breaking into a run. His escape was blocked by Hayes marching toward them, walking cane held out like a weapon in front of him. She heard the words of Hayes’s spell with a grim realization.

“Guidhe beag lugha ob ciorram greim-bàis...”

“Stop, hold your words,” she cried.

Eloryn dashed toward them. The shining bolt of Hayes’s behest hit the man as he ran and he fell to his knees, then face, his life twitching away.

Eloryn stopped, stunned at the action. Hayes reached her and gave her a firm embrace.

“Your majesty. Thank the fae you’re unhurt!”

“Hayes, what have you done? Who was this man?”

“A traitor against you. I was informed of a plot – an assassination attempt. I tried to come as quickly as I could.” Hayes stared at the damage down the hallway. “Evidently not quickly enough.”

Hayes knelt beside the corpse, patting the man down and searching pockets. He produced a piece of paper folded into a small square. He stood and read it, glaring at the note.

“This man was just a tool, and here is the proof of the man who wielded him. This is a writ, your majesty. A payment letter, signed by your uncle.”

Eloryn’s head drifted slowly side to side. Her ears still hummed, and a weight of sadness settled on her, making the whole world feel underwater. “He would do this?”

“Forgive me, Majesty, but I warned you he was dangerous. Still, you are safe. It’s a mercy that the room was not occupied.”

“Waylan. He was in the room.” Eloryn looked back up the hall. Memory was hunched down against the wall with her head in her hands. Roen sat next to her. The ground shook slightly, and Eloryn worried the building had become unstable, but it passed quickly.

Hayes ran a hand over his mouth, face taut with grief. “There will be justice for this.”

Eloryn noted that Peirs and more soldiers had arrived. Peirs jogged up beside her and bowed. “Your Majesty, I vow I will discover the cause of this.”

Hayes sneered. “We already know who caused this. That you don’t is an added sign of your incompetence at this position, along with even letting this occur to begin with, right in the heart of Caermaellan castle.”

Peirs stepped toward Hayes, squaring up his shoulders. “I’m confident the guard has done everything warranted to protect the Queen. We could not have foreseen this.”

“I’ve told you numerous times of the threats being made. I instructed you to increase patrols.”

“It is not in your power, respectfully, to order an increase in patrols.”

“Please stop,” Eloryn said. “This is not the time for bickering. This is a time for mourning, for the loss of a good man, and that one I call family felt driven to such extreme action.”

Peirs lowered his head deferentially. “I cannot believe that Sir Ewain is the cause of this, but I will investigate every lead to discover the truth here.”

“We already have proof,” Hayes said, thrusting the writ at Peirs. “Had you acted sooner on my information this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Or if I had. Have I handled this so poorly?” Eloryn asked Hayes. She should have dealt with the threat from her uncle. Instead she delayed the process because she didn’t want to make a difficult decision. It felt like the only decisions she had been making were to delay making decisions. In times like this, they needed someone who could make a decision at the right time. Waylan had died on account of her inertia. She blushed from grief.

Hayes put his hand on her shoulder. “Any hesitation on your part was only brought by your tender, if misguided, feelings for your family, your Majesty. But now is the time for action, swift justice for this crime.”

“I need to see the damage.” Eloryn turned away from Hayes and made her way slowly into the Round Room.

Peirs stepped in ahead of her, taking one of the torn tapestries from the ground. He laid it over Waylan’s body before she could see and gave her a solemn nod, which she returned as a thank you.

The room itself was in passable condition. Ancient walls of stone built to withstand sieges had been charred and scratched, but not broken. The furnishings, however, had been torn asunder. The leadlight above had shattered and fallen, creating a multicolored carpet of razor-edged jewels. The wide round table where important decisions had been made for centuries had been reduced to kindling by a single act. Even Thayl hadn’t dared touch these treasures of Avall history.
Perhaps they could be repaired over time. Even if I have to spend every day speaking behests to splinters, I will repair this.

“Gunpowder,” Peirs said, sifting through the debris.