The Liars (27 page)

“What?” Memory looked at Elliot, who was gripping her arm tightly.

His face was ashen white. Sweat broke out on his forehead, and blood pooled on his bottom lips.

“Elliot–Elliot, are you alright?” Memory shook him, forcing him to face her.

Elliot pointed at his throat, coughing. Red liquid squirted out of his mouth as he collapsed, writhing.

Martin and Memory both screamed. It took all of two seconds for a guard to take Elliot away, and for another to punch Martin in the face.

“I didn’t do anything! It wasn’t me!” He whined, but he was taken away anyway.

Memory jogged after Elliot, the Martin fiasco already forgotten. She followed as the guard called for a doctor, and one of the ones tending to Queen Beryl immediately ordered everyone to leave. Elliot was taken to his room, and Memory was forced to wait, shaking with fear.

She put her head in her hands, refusing to cry for the second time in two days. There was no reason to cry. Elliot would get better.

There was no way he wouldn’t.

The hours ticked by too quickly for Memory’s taste. Lulu called but she could tell Memory was upset, so she hung up quickly. No one came and visited, except Chrysander when he was on his way to change for the party.

“Did you talk to Tourmaline?” He asked, and then noticed her distraught state as she sat next to Elliot’s door. “Elliot?”

“He’s sick.” Memory murmured, wrapping her arms around her knees.

“Oh, I heard this morning.” Chrysander sighed. “There must be something going around these days, with everyone falling sick.”

Memory nodded before closing her eyes. Taking that as a hint to leave, Chrysander left for his room, and Diana arrived in his place.

“It’s nearly time for the party.” Diana coaxed in a sweet voice, attempting to pull Memory away from Elliot’s door. She stayed put.

“I’m not going. Not until Elliot gets better.”

“Everyone is expecting you, dear.” Diana huffed. “And I’ve already chosen your outfit.”

“No need, Diana.” Memory closed her eyes, her stomach rumbling. She waited as the minutes ticked by, but the head maid didn’t budge.

“Martin Banks left.” Diana said, hoping to catch Memory’s attention. “Thank goodness.”

Memory looked up. “What?!”

“Prince Cassian ordered him away, threatening him with treason.”

“He didn’t do anything!” Memory found herself saying. “He was trying to warn me about an attempt on the King’s life!”

“Which was found false.” Diana said firmly, leaving no room for protest. “Now let’s go get you ready.”

“No. I won’t listen to him anymore.” Memory felt herself rage at the Prince. “When Prince Edward gets back…”

She was stopped from ranting when the door to Elliot’s room finally opened.

“May I ask to speak with his highness?” The doctor asked, taking off his gloves. Memory turned to him doe–eyed.

“Is he okay? Will he live?”

The doctor coughed. “Yes, but it is most peculiar. I must speak with his highness.”

“He is not available at the moment.” Diana cut in. “But this is the Princess, surely you can speak to her.”

Memory shot Diana a thankful look. The head maid was too caring.

“Princess.” The doctor bowed. “He seems to be exhibiting the same symptoms his majesty did.”

Memory took a deep breath. “Is he still unconscious?”

“Yes.”

“Was it poison?”

The doctor nodded solemnly. Memory closed her eyes tightly, the lump in her throat growing bigger.

“Is there any treatment?”

“We will have to wait it out, your highness.”

That was that. She wouldn’t be able to say good–bye.

It was her final day here. If she was forced to choose between Elliot and her sister, there was no competition.

S
he was leaving.

Her head maid was, thankfully, busy tending to the party. Memory politely asked the two maids in her room to leave, and the moment they stepped out, she got busy with throwing every item that was hers into her old suitcase.

She recalled how Diana
had wanted to throw the suitcase (“blasted, filthy object!”) away, but before she could, Memory had stuffed it into the very back of her closet where the shoes were.

Memory didn’t take anything that wasn’t hers.
She took out her contacts, washed her face so no makeup remained, and changed into her old cardigan and jeans. The jeans were heavy with spare change, pepper spray, and a pack of gum.

It felt good to be herself again.

Prince Cassian
’s door was locked. There was no one around, presumably tending to the guests of the party. But in the West Wing, she could barely hear the sounds of the partygoer’s delight.

Memory swallowed. And knocked. She didn’t dare say anything.

The door swung open, revealing Prince Cassian dressed in an expensive suit. His eyes were still raccoon–like and his skin a shade of ugly yellow. 

“Buford, I recall that I told you it was alright to–”

He was buttoning up his blazer when he realized who was at the door. His eyes flickered to the suitcase she was holding and then back to her face. She knew he was shocked to see a pair of unfamiliar grey eyes.

His carefree expression slipped and hardened. The door was starting to shut but Memory slid in before he could stop her.

“I’m leaving.”

“I see.” He said coolly. His voice has taken on a
metallic-resonance.
“You need permission?”

Memory faltered. “Yes. The guards won’t let me out
without spoken permission this time. And Prince Edward won’t be back for another hour.”

“Then wait.”

She fumed. He wasn’t going to say anything? Especially after begging her to stay the day before?

“Aren’t you going to try to stop me?”

Prince Cassian looked up as if seeing her eye–to–eye was too degrading for him. An ignominy.

“No.”

“After all this?!” Memory cried, losing her cool. “You’re just going to give up?”

“I was the disappointment, Memory.” He said scathingly, referring to the argument the day before. “Not you.”

“What did you do with Martin?” She demanded. “Kendall Banks is trying to kill your father–”

“
First Elliot, now Martin?”

“Listen to me! You have to believe me, ask Chrysander! Tourmaline–”

“Let go of this ridiculous nonsense.” He stated, the quietness of his voice not belying the dark, threatening undercurrent that his tone possessed. “I asked Chrysander, because inside I believed perhaps you were sane enough to tell the truth. He denied it.”

Memory shook with fury. “He’s trying to protect Tourmaline! He’s lying!”

“I thought you cared for them as well.” He chuckled darkly.
A flicker of hurt and anger sparked in his eyes.
“It’s quite the opposite. I underestimated your acting abilities.”

“No, no, no, please, believe me. It’s true, I’m serious–”

“Why should I believe a liar?” He grabbed her by the shoulder and shoved her out of his room. The look of utter loathing on his face was something she’d never forget.

Memory fell back, hit with the fact that indeed, she was a liar.

It was too easy to slip into the role that she forgot how to speak the truth.

Chapter 1
6

Twenty–five million as promised.

He really didn’t break his promises, she realized.
Not that I ever doubted him.

In the end, Memory had snuck out, Zoisite–style. It might’ve been stupid, seeing how the row of cars just kept coming and coming and the entire palace was lit up with lights, but it was the fact that the party was in full–swing that let her sneak through.

She had to leave the suitcase behind.
There goes my college textbooks and toothbrush.

But at least she didn’t have anything of large value to be sad about.

The make–shift rope was perfect, and Memory swiftly landed on the ground, covered by the greenery. She was busy removing the dirt off her sneakers when she heard the guards shout, trying to reach her. They’d spotted the rope.

Memory,
choosing to be daring rather than circumspect, left it dangling as she crossed the street, maneuvering around the cars. She got yelled at by many angry passersby, but eventually made it to Central Park.

The city was alive.

After she pulled her hood up, she was confident she wouldn’t be found. There were many families strolling about, children squealing as they attempted to climb trees or throw sand at each other, and elderly couples trying to find somewhere to rest.

Her cell phone, she supposed, would be a liability. She snapped it, unforgiving, and threw the pieces into the nearest trash can. She had Lulu’s number anyway, and the moment she spotted a payphone she
called the girl, telling her she would be home on the earliest flight possible.

Buying a plane ticket barely made a dent in the money she’d been given. It shocked her so much before realizing that she could buy a house and it wouldn’t change it at all.

I used to be hesitant to even buy a new set of clothes. And now…

Memory didn’t feel quite right, though. As if the money hadn’t changed anything. She had still lost someone she thought she could’ve loved, and left behind the people who
loved her like their own daughter.

It was the price she had to pay, she supposed.

“Memory!”

Her sister’s familiar smile elated Memory to no end. She hugged her tightly, and Memory gasped.

“Too…tight…” She wheezed.

Her sister stepped back, apologizing. And then she rolled her eyes. “Not like I missed you or anything.”

“Sorry Viletta.” Memory nodded to her former–friend in greeting as she put her hands on her hips.

“Whatever. I can’t help it if your dad is a complete moron.” She stalked away, leaving the two siblings alone.

Lulu led Memory to the room she’d been staying in. It was cramped and small, and Memory found herself sneering before Lulu smiled.

“It’s bigger than the room at our apartment!” She exclaimed, and Memory realized that staying at the palace had completely changed her standards. She forced a smile.

“It’ll do.” She said, falling onto the bed. Lulu joined her.

“What happened to your face?”

“Let’s not talk about it.” Memory asked, peering at the clock. It was almost four am. “You stayed up for me?”

“Of course not.” Lulu crossed her arms. “I just couldn’t sleep.”

“Right.”

“So…you want to sleep?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” She snuggled under the covers as Memory let sleep overcome her.

She woke up tangled with guilt. And fear.

Breakfast consisted of milk and cookies, and Memory couldn’t stomach it for the life of her. Even worse was the fact that Lulu kept trying to talk to her, oblivious to Memory’s depression. She felt responsible to act like she always did around Lulu, and somehow wound up playing football with the girl.

It wasn’t the same as horse–back riding.

They also visited the café Memory used to work at, finding Sarah and Kyle in their usual places; in front of the TV screen. And then someone Memory didn’t recognize barked at them and the two scurried off.

“Nothing’s changed, has it?” Memory asked Lulu as they sat down at a table. Lulu shook her head as Kyle came up to them, mumbling to himself. He lightened up when he saw Lulu, and then cringed as he set his sights on Memory.

“Memory!”

For a minute, Memory wondered why he wasn’t bowing. And then grinned to herself.

“I’m back, kid.” She hit Kyle over the head. He winced.

“Are you going to be working again?”

“Maybe.” Memory shrugged. “I’ve had a long trip.” She turned to Lulu and watched with amusement as she made doe–eyes at the boy, ordering a cup of tea. When Kyle left, Memory smirked at Lulu.

“I’ve missed a lot, obviously.”

Lulu sighed. “Nothing like that.”

“Of course.” Memory leaned forward, suddenly interested. “You come here often?”

Lulu shoved her sister away, embarrassed. Memory laughed, asking her about school and other things older sisters were usually required to do.

That night, Memory sat alone in Lulu’s room. She was looking through articles on Princess Jade, and true to his word,
Prince Cassian hadn’t let any word of her return slip. Or her horrible escape.

But what worried her was the announcement that Queen Beryl had died that morning. And while she was worried beyond belief for Elliot, she knew she had to let go.

That was that, then.

“Memory, are you alright?” Lulu asked the next day. “You seem…off.”

“I’m fine, Lulu.” She waved her hands around. “Hey, do you want to go play football? Or maybe tennis, tennis sounds fun–”

“Memory.” Her sister tried again.

“Nah, I don’t trust myself with rackets. Maybe ice skating?”

“Memory.”

“Ice skating sounds good. I’ll find the nearest ice rink, do you think they’re open on weekends?”

“MEMORY!”

Memory jolted. “What?”

“Talk to me.” Lulu looked hurt. “There’s something bothering you.”

“There isn’t.”

“You’re not acting like you usually do.” Lulu pointed out, and Memory frowned.

“Things happen. People change. Heck, you’ve changed.” She smiled, messing up her sister’s hair. Lulu slapped her hands away.

“Fine. Don’t talk to me.” She huffed. She looked extremely pained, as if it hurt her physically to see her sister in pain. Memory, unable to condemn herself to guilt, pulled her back.

“I’m a horrible person.” Memory told her. “I don’t know what’s right and what’s wrong anymore.”

Lulu smiled. “No one does.”

“Then why do I feel so guilty?”

“Guilty?” Lulu frowned thoughtfully. “What happened?”

“I don’t even know. I’ve never felt so guilty, though.” It was
unbelievably true. It weighed on her head like a ton of bricks, and it would crush her if she didn’t stand up and push back. It was maddening.

Her sister crossed her legs, looking at Memory in the eye.

“I usually feel guilty when I hurt someone I love.” She frowned, as if she was choosing her next words carefully. “But you can’t change the things you’ve already done. It’s best to let it go.”

Memory didn’t know when her sister had grown up so much, but even three months could change a person.

It had changed her, after all.

Two weeks passed. Memory took back her job at the café, resumed her classes at college, and looked forward to Lulu’s graduation. Her sister would be done with high school in less than half a year. She had also worked things out with Bryan, giving him enough money to move to the coast and start afresh.

But he never left her. Not Elliot, but
Prince Cassian. She wondered often about how tied up the mess she left behind, or if he came up with another lie. She wondered if he was still mad at her. Or if he thought about her at all.

And then she wondered if he missed her.

Of course, the idea was beyond reality, but it didn’t hurt to think. The more she thought, the more she was convinced those three months at the palace hadn’t been a dream. Sometimes, she would arrive to her and Lulu’s new apartment and see Diana waiting for her with a broomstick in hand. And then she would see Zoisite jumping on her bed, and Tsavorite sitting on the couch sipping hot chocolate, and Elliot sitting next to her reading a book as Myron and Chrysander argued about who was a better jouster. And even Tourmaline was there, with her daughter.

It wasn’t healthy, she knew. But she walked around in a daze anyway.

She checked up often on the state of the palace. Queen Beryl’s death had surprisingly come with a blessing for Emerald who received the other half of her assets. Her family and Prince Cassian’s family were on equal footing, much to Memory’s dismay.

Kendall Hill, as it was to the public, was still missing. There were some sightings of him here
and there but each time he escaped.

And even worse was that t
he King was still sick, and though it wasn’t explicitly stated that he wasn’t at the palace, Memory presumed he and Queen Pearl were still in France. It left Prince Edward, and possibly his brother, in charge.

She wished she was there to help. To make
Prince Cassian smile because he couldn’t do it on his own. To make him forget his worries because he had too many.

Memory cried.

The snow sprinkled around campus lightened her heavy heart. As the library closed, Memory gathered up all her belongings and left.

Viletta had gotten a new car, which unbeknownst to her, was paid for by Memory. Even then, Memory preferred to walk, lest she crash into another Prince and wind up playing princess again.

Plus, the sky was really pretty. There
were stars littered about, and the full moon stood out against the dark velvet–like sky.

It started to snow again, and Memory briefly contemplated going by bus. But she was only five minutes away, so it wouldn’t be worth it.

She supposed she should’ve worn thicker clothes. And her shoes were completely inappropriate for the eight inches of snow that landed in Whecombe Pass that day.

Suddenly, the hair on her neck stood on end. She swirled around, but there was nothing threatening in sight.

I’m going crazy.

Memory rubbed her eyes, shifting the stack of books to her other arm. Chills crept up her spine.

“I see you have made good use of the money.”

Memory blinked. Did she just hear something? Great, even his voice was beginning to bug her at every waking moment.

“Memory.”

She turned around as saw him standing in the snow, pink–faced. She laughed.

“Great, now even my hallucinations look real.” She chuckled to herself, laughing at how absurd she’d become.

“
Hallucinations? No surprise there.”

Memory choked. His voice sounded so
real
. And then she felt a light grip on her arm. Her books were being taken away, and she shrieked, falling back in the snow.

“You–you’re real!” She sputtered. He stood tall, tapping his foot and setting down her books on the sidewalk.

“Duly noted.”

He was dressed in expensive slacks. While he didn’t necessarily smile or frown, his eyes betrayed every emotion he felt. And Memory was familiar with each one of them. Not to mention, the raccoon–like eyes were still there. Staring at her.

She gasped for air. “But–but–”

“I suppose I could have gotten a guard to give you this–
would have spared me the time–but here.” He fished a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to her.

“How did you find me–”

When she didn’t take the paper, he forced open her hand and pressed it onto the palm of her hand.

“All the terms of the contract are complete.” He said, and walked away. Just like that.

Memory sat up, the snow soaking her clothes. She unfolded the piece of paper with shaky hands and realized it was an address, written in neat handwriting.

Her mother’s address, more specifically.

She stared at the paper, almost burning a hole into it. And then looked up.

He was fading away.

“Thank you, Prince Cassian!” She yelled, gripping the paper tightly. She was afraid it would fade away too.

“Memory, did you hear?!” Lulu pointed excitedly at the TV screen. Memory had finally gotten around to buying necessities for their new apartment, perhaps a little too excessively.

Memory took off her cardigan, making sure the slip of paper was still in her hands. It felt so surreal.

“Yes, Lulu?” She said, still in a daze.

“The King–he’s dead!”