Memory's Wake Omnibus: The Complete Illustrated YA Fantasy Series

by Selina Fenech

  A small teardrop of rare jade on a thin strand of silver poured from the pouch into her palm. It was still warm from being kept close to Roen’s body.

  Roen shrugged. “Just a small token. It reminded me of your eyes.”

  Eloryn looked from the pendant up at him with her lower lip between her teeth. “It’s beautiful.”

  Roen cleared his throat, looking across at the fist-sized medallion of gold. “I understand it’s not a grand piece as fitting a lady of your rank, but I hope I chose something you may find occasion to wear.”

  Eloryn shook her head. “I’ll wear it all the time.”

  She undid the clasp and brought the chain up around her neck, her hair getting caught as she tried to do it up.

  “May I...?” Roen moved forward, reaching to help pull her hair back. Eloryn scolded herself internally when the clasp clicked closed and he moved back away again. Frustration bloomed red in her cheeks.

  The long silver chain was like a strand of hair, glimmering when the light hit, but almost invisible otherwise. Roen’s eyes followed it down, the pendant disappearing down into her chest. He quickly looked the other way. Eloryn saw a faint glow of red on his high cheekbones, which made her blush more.

  “Thank you for inviting me to share gifts with you and Memory tonight. I will take my leave. My parents will wish to see me now I’ve returned.”

  Eloryn grasped for more to say, wanting the conversation, her time with Roen, to continue. “Are your parents well? I’ve not seen them lately. Silly I know, since they are so close in quarters.”

  “Yes, both well.” Roen hovered for a moment then bowed stiffly, pausing at the bottom. Eloryn heard him curse softly before he straightened up. She’d requested he wouldn’t bow to her anymore, at least in private. She frowned, knowing how much trouble he went to for her.

  Roen left and Eloryn curled up in an armchair, holding the pendant in her hand. She spoke words of magic to it, asking it to hold onto the warmth it had drawn from Roen’s body, to keep it always, the way she wished she could but knew she couldn’t.

  Roen leaned on the closed door to Eloryn’s chambers, grinding his teeth. The evening had not played out well. It was significantly easier getting along with either of the twins when they were running for their lives. He constantly fought down feelings for Eloryn. He couldn’t be with her, nor did he deserve to be. But he now worried even for the friendship they’d tied between them. He could feel those bonds slipping loose.

  Out of habit he felt for the edge of the blade he used to keep within the seam of his work pants and found it missing. He no longer carried the tools of his old trade.

  How life has changed. Memory and Eloryn never once brought up the subject, that they were the only people to know the truth of the criminal he used to be. He never raised it either, never asking for their silence or secrecy. He wasn’t sure whether it was because he trusted them or some guilty part of him hoped they told.

  It was enough that they knew. No matter that they didn’t seem to care. He could never outrun the shame of that.

  Roen rubbed his forehead. And that silly gift he got for Eloryn. He had almost said out loud how he wanted to buy it for her properly. He could have stolen her something that would have taken her breath away. His family had no real income while they were being housed here in the castle, with no estate or lands of their own anymore. They were given most of what they needed, but Roen spent some of his time at Lanval’s working. Honest work. Earning money rather than taking it. Funny, given his new reputation as friend to the Maellan twins, he found a job much more easily than in his days as a sparkless nobody. It was enough to buy the small pendant for Eloryn, but he couldn’t tell her any of that, without reminding her again of what he had been.

  Tonight, seeing Eloryn dressed so finely, she reminded him of the portrait of her mother, Loredanna, that he’d seen as a child. She somehow seemed so fragile, even though she wasn’t nearly as brittle thin as her identical twin. Was it just who she was, the pureness in her? Or was it a hangover from the trauma they’d suffered just weeks before? Everything about Eloryn made him want to protect her, from everything. Even himself.

  Roen brushed back the fall of hair from his face and looked down the hallway to see a shadowed shape slip suspiciously around the corner. Roen straightened up, shifting from discomfort to worry. His need to protect Eloryn took control.

  Muscles running up the backs of his legs worked hard as he moved silently down the length of the hallway. He closed the distance quickly. The man he’d seen didn’t look like a servant. Servants in this castle didn’t skulk. It was prestigious work, and they were almost as arrogant as the nobles. He reached the corner so quietly that the man had no idea he was there, which was evident when he peered around the corner again to spy down the hall, finding himself face to face with Roen.

  Roen moved fast, grabbing the front of the man’s shirt and pinning him against the wall. “What are you doing?”

  The man stuttered, and Roen saw he looked familiar, wearing the black and purple of the Wizard’s Council.

  “Bors? Why were you spying on the princesses’ chambers?” Roen growled at the man, who stared back at him with as much outrage in return. No guilt showed in his features at all, and Roen released his tight grip on his shirt, worried he’d over-reacted.

  Bors straightened out his clothing and re-buttoned his coat. “It is important to know the virtue of the princesses isn’t being compromised.”

  Roen took a step back as though he’d been struck.

  “I would never...” Roen’s words ran to nothing, knowing full well he’d once taken advantage of Eloryn, after he’d gotten her drunk no less. Even with how bashful Eloryn could be, the three of them felt so familiar together with everything they’d been through. Now life had reclaimed some normality he’d never realized how improper his behavior had been. He shouldn’t even be seeing them like this, these private, unchaperoned visits to their very chambers. What if he had been wrong about everything? What if the reason Eloryn was so uncomfortable around him was because of what he’d done when they were alone together at Elders Bridge Inn? Roen stepped back again, and the man smiled.

  “The Council understands you have some relationship with the princesses, but these inappropriate evening meetings won’t be tolerated. Don’t think we haven’t checked on your past. We know of your exploits with more common women. The princesses are no common women.” The man stepped forward, so close Roen could smell his stale breath. “Know you’ve been warned.”

  Memory found her chambers empty. A week ago they would have been swarming with maids, turning down the bed, fluffing pillows, trying to help her change clothing. She’d been so standoffish, to the point of actually hiding from them, that they had stopped showing up.

  Memory pushed aside her newly tailored gowns and squeezed the box of old clothes into the bottom of the wardrobe. Thinking about what had happened the night of the masquerade ball stole all happiness from the gift. Not that she’d be allowed to wear any of her old things anyway. Jeans and t-shirts didn’t seem to go down very well in Avall, and she’d been trying to fit in. Guilt weighed on her. She had considered at times trying to tell the others what she’d done that night at Lanval's castle, how her actions got them so close to being captured, that she considered selling Eloryn out to Thayl. But fear gave her excuses. Why should she tell them? She didn’t actually do anything. They’re all okay. It all worked out fine. It was all just a mistake. Excuses on excuses.

  Memory gave the box a swift kick, denting the silk covered side. A noise distracted her and she turned around.

  The diamond glass doors to the balcony stood open as always, Memory’s way of letting Will know he was welcome. A peach-tinted sky changing to night over the forest silhouetted Will as he climbed easily over the balustrade. The fires inside her already burned, and when she saw him there, they sizzled more, fueled by guilt. He tried to save her as a boy, and for that he got sucked into another world where he lost his
whole life growing up like an animal in the woods, waiting for her. She only wished she could do more for him, but he hadn’t even accepted a room here in the castle. The weather had started to grow icy, moving from autumn into winter, but Will still wore the strange collection of old torn clothing and furs, lashed on with leather strapping. Most of his back and chest were still bare. The thick layer of dirt that darkened his skin when she first saw him in the forest, confusing him for an animal, had been cleaned away. His skin was a lot paler than she’d thought, making his lightning blue eyes glow against dark brows and hair.

  “Hope.” He smiled at her, remaining perched on the balustrade where overgrown ivy and rose vines tumbled over and curled onto the balcony.

  Will was the only one who knew her real name and hearing it made her feel odd, a remnant of a past self that she could barely recall.

  Memory rolled her eyes. “Please don’t call me that. So typical for people to give such a lame name to an orphan. I’m Mem now.”

  “Sorry.” Will looked like a struck puppy.

  “Crap, no I’m sorry. I’m not in a great mood. And it’s good to see you no matter what you call me. But don’t take that as an invitation to go name crazy.”

  He mumbled, turning away so she could barely hear him, “Why didn’t you tell me it was your birthday?”

  “Geez, learn to eavesdrop better why don’t you? I didn’t know myself!” Memory’s voice became shrill. She dumped herself down onto the bed, and the book Eloryn got her poked into her backside. She pushed it angrily out of the way. “You probably know more than me with my whole month worth of memories. And if you want to know something you should just come and ask me instead of lurking around listening in like that. Not like I could tell you anyway since you’re never around!”

  Memory glared at the book, and when she turned back to the balcony, Will was gone. Right, first time all week he shows up and I yell at him and scare him off. Memory cursed seven times and hurled the heavy book at the wall. It made a satisfying thump, dislodging some old wallpaper before it fluttered down onto the floor.

  Memory stared at the ceiling and took a deep breath. Calm. She’d been so worked up ever since seeing Thayl, as though seeing him again flared up every wound inside her. She could still hear the words he said to her that day in Kenth: The ritual to steal your power was interrupted, leaving you like this, this shell. But I can end your suffering. I can finish taking the rest of your soul.

  No one but Thayl and her knew. The others knew he took her memories and magic, but nothing else. Memory wondered how it could work, how she could still live, breath, talk, and move with only part of a soul. Maybe she couldn’t, not well anyway. No wonder she couldn’t keep her friends, why she kept being such a monster to everyone.

  The tantrum slipped straight into a dull depression. She stepped across to the wall and squatted down to pick up the book, wondering if Eloryn would notice the new dent in the cover.

  The book lay open on the floor, its ruffled pages showing an intricate illustration of a majestic sword. Oh, pretty.

  Memory picked the book up and drifted across to the armchair in the corner, staring at the sword. The caption called it Caliburn, sword of Arthur Maellan. Memory wondered if he might be one of her ancestors. Memory flicked to the next page, skimming over the text, looking for more information.

  She couldn’t believe she’d never shown a proper interest in the history of Avall, when that meant the history of her family. She tended to take a lot for granted and not ask questions because after a while it just became easier not to know when the sheer number of questions overwhelmed her.

  Memory turned another three pages, absorbing information about Avall before she turned the weighty tome back to page one with a thud, ready to start at the beginning. Damn it, Eloryn, this is interesting. Memory pulled her knees up onto the chair and balanced the book on top of them, her mind swimming with the words.

  And how Avall suffered through those darkest of times. The beginning parts of the book were sparse, indicating a history rooted in despair. Stories about people starving to death, invasions, and slavery; horrors from some 1500 years ago from what Memory could tell from the timeline.

  And the magical creatures from beyond the Veil didst warn mankind of the approach of a greater Hell that would consume all.

  Arthur Maellan appeared again in the text, and Memory read on to discover whether he was related to her. He was a commoner from Avall who had “a talent for tongues.” Able to speak with the fae, he had a friend called Myrddin who was half human and half unseelie fae.

  It was through Myrddin that both courts of the fae approached Arthur with a deal. The fae would save Avall, removing it from the rest of the world, bringing it into the Veil to become a safe haven for man and fae alike. In order to make Avall a sanctuary for the fae, all iron would have to be removed and in return the fae would bestow upon the humans of Avall the Spark of Connection, allowing them to use magic.

  Lo, Avall was saved and the rest of the world thus lost. Arthur took this offer to the king, Uther Aurelianus, who accepted and the Pact was formed.

  Memory frowned. So Avall was separated from the world way back then and progressed on its own ever since? According to everyone she had met in Avall, no other land outside Avall still held life. They only spoke of Hell beyond Avall or the land of the fae beyond the Veil. But the rest of the world must still be there. She’d grown up there. Will too. The land of big buildings and cars and grimy old orphanages. Memory shook her head, not understanding. She read on.

  The great Purge was begun, the great sword Caliburn drawn from the stones of Avall. The fae were serious about removing iron from Avall. Not only did they have the humans ship every piece of forged iron off the islands before the separation, but to guarantee no more iron could ever be forged, Arthur and Myrddin worked magically to draw all iron ore from the land. The ore was smelted into an enchanted sword – the one from the illustration – which became a symbol of the human rulers’ solidarity and strength, the one tolerated item of forged iron in the land.

  The very presence of the fae in Avall made the land fertile and prosperous. Uther Aurelianus had no heir of his own, and so made Arthur Maellan his heir as reward for saving Avall. Memory whistled. The Maellan bloodline went back so far.

  Memory considered her knife. If such effort had been taken to remove iron from the land, it only seemed right that she respected it. She pulled the knife from her corset and held it like a pet.

  “I understand you want to leave,” a voice in Memory’s head echoed.

  She was in an office with the blinds pulled down. In front of her was a figure that she couldn’t quite make out.

  “But what do you expect me to do, Hope?” the man said. “We tried to get your fostered, Jesus, we tried. But you always end up back here.” The figure stood up and paced, silhouetted by what little light came through the blinds. “Same old story. We find a nice family for you, get you settled, and then there’s a fire. The cops say there were no signs of arson, but these accidents just keep following you around.”

  The front door opened with a quiet creak, and Memory looked up with a start, drawn out of the vision from her past. No one had knocked, but a tall figure walked in. The room was dark and the fire had all but died, leaving just a spluttering candle to light the room. The serving staff treated her request for candles very oddly. Surely a Maellan heir could create their own light? Memory squinted from her chair at the approaching figure.

  The person stopped in the middle of the room, looking her way. They seemed as shocked as Memory.

  “Your Highness, forgive me. I expected you slept,” said a breathy female voice.

  “What time is it?” Memory looked around. The sky outside was pitch black, and the moon had risen high. The doors to the balcony were still open, rushing icy air inside. How long was I reading for?

  “It is well past midnight. As you’re awake, do you mind if I light the room?”

  “Sure.”r />
  “Àlaich las.”

  The serving girl stood awkwardly next to a light fitting that now glowed with a soft golden light. Tall and buxom, she had wavy red hair and a peachy complexion. She wore the neat gray maid’s uniform of the castle and carried a copper tub with cleaning tools hanging around the edge. She curtseyed deeply. “I can see to my duties another time if I am disturbing you.”

  “No, it’s okay. You just surprised me. I thought I’d scared all my staff off.”

  The girl almost smiled at the joke, but stopped, looking unsure as how to react. “I’m newly assigned to your keeping, Highness. The other servants warned... I mean... told... I mean...”

  The girl blushed and winced. Memory smiled to try and comfort her. “Yeah, whatever they said was probably true. So you do this work at this time of night?”

  “We must keep the fire warmed for you during the night as winter closes on us, it would be poor form to have our royalty waking to a cold room.” The girl eyed the dying embers and wide open bay doors. She briskly swung the doors shut and locked them, drawing the heavy curtains. The room felt instantly warmer, and Memory reminded herself to unlock the door next chance she had.

  Memory detected a hint of scolding in the maid’s tone. “I’m sorry. Is there anything I can help with?” Memory left her book and knelt next to the girl who had put her tub down near the fireplace. She was sifting through the embers with a poker, drawing up the still glowing few and speaking behest words to them that brought them to greater light.

  The girl stopped, rigid for a moment. “I’m new to the castle, but I am capable in my duties, Highness.”

  “It’s no problem. I’m wide awake anyway.”

  The girl paused again, midway to putting a log onto the coals. She gave Memory a look that though friendly, bordered comically quizzical. “That’s not... You really wish to help?”