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

by Selina Fenech

  “Look at them all, Mem. Look how happy they are. We owe it to them to do our best by Avall.” Eloryn obviously had the coronation on her mind. As much as Memory didn't care for the day, it was a much bigger deal for her sister, about to become queen. She sounded so nervous that Memory squeezed her hand back.

  Occasionally amongst the exuberant crowds Memory saw small faces she recognized. The homeless children she had given coins. When she saw that they were cheering just as hard as the more well off people on the streets, she found herself actually smiling back. She spent the rest of the parade making her plans to visit them again soon with more alms and whatever she could get selling off her presents.

  Eventually the cavalcade returned to the palace. The massive front yard leading to the castle was also crowded, filled with the nobility of Avall. As Memory and Eloryn were driven up to the front steps, fireworks streamed into the sky, hissing and exploding in the twilight. Is it that late already? Memory thought, looking blearily at the multicolored lights blazing like living flame in the sky, enhanced with behests to form sparkling representations of the twins and Maellan crest.

  The carriage stopped, and Hayes helped Eloryn dismount, leading her up the palace steps that had been lined with red carpet. Another Councilor that Memory couldn’t name did the same for her. This wizard looked like the oldest of the Councilors, and Memory took baby steps to help him keep up pace with her.

  The entrance hall and the public throne room that it led into had been decorated for the coronation. Banners hung from the ceiling and massive floral arrangements spread like gardens across tables. Wisp-lights hovered throughout the room, dancing around crystal chandeliers, casting a golden glow. Near the furthest wall, a grand throne stood the height of three men with a smaller throne beside it. They would have been the king and queen’s throne, but for now would be the queen’s and princess’s.

  Eloryn and Memory took their seats. Clara appeared at Memory’s side, standing half hidden behind the throne. She offered a supportive smile as she did a quick adjustment of Memory’s hair. Memory tried to get comfortable, but the torturous dress didn’t allow it. It didn’t look like the night would come to an end any time soon and Memory groaned.

  Following Memory and Eloryn into the room were delegates and representatives from all over Avall. Dukes, counts, earls, and the monarchs of the fae courts queued up to pay their respects to Eloryn. Clara indicated to Memory who was who, whispering in her ear as the guests greeted Eloryn, so by the time they turned to recognize Memory beside her she knew who they were.

  The first to approach the throne was Aine, the seelie queen. She appeared as everything Memory expected a fairy to be. Her translucent skin emanated a comforting glow. Auburn hair that ran down the entire length of her back and a few feet along the floor behind her was woven with flowers and framed a too perfect face and eyes that shone like stars.

  Next to Aine was Lugh, a handsome man, all in shades of bronze, who carried a golden spear twice his height. Fairy gold, Memory noted. He appeared human, and Clara confirmed as much with her gossip.

  “Aine took a human lover, and just look at him, you can see why! He’s been with her for decades, some say nearly a century, but doesn’t show it. They say it’s the fairy food and spending time in the land of the fae, it makes a human ageless like the fae. Wouldn’t mind some of that medicine myself.”

  Memory thought of Will, wondering how his time with Mina had affected him, but she didn’t have long to think on it before the procession continued and two creatures with the all black eyes of the unseelie fae approached.

  “It’s her, the one from the play,” Memory whispered to Clara.

  “Lady Nyneve, yes, she’s daughter to King Finvarra of the unseelie court.”

  Memory stared at the raven-haired Amazon goddess. She was as stunning as in the play, but there was something unsettling about her. Her hands were delicately clasped together, and she wore a dress woven from black cobwebs, as though she were still in mourning. A huge sword hung from an ornate belt about her waist, as though it were jewelry. It seemed the fashion for the fae to be seen with fairy gold weapons. Memory wondered if they were just status symbols or actually put to use.

  Nyneve and her father bowed to Eloryn. Where Aine was the picture of feminine beauty, Finvarra was a skeletal mess of geriatric masculinity, hunched and angular. He appeared withered like a dead tree and his fingers looked more like talons. When he opened his mouth a set of gleaming sharp teeth could be seen. His mouth held a permanent scowl, which seemed to stretch into a more grotesque anger when he turned to Memory. Nyneve put a hand on his shoulder and it seemed to calm him enough to continue on, muttering under his breath.

  After the fae came the nobility of Avall, starting with Duke Lanval and Duchess Marian, followed close behind by Roen and his parents, Isabeth and Brannon. Seeing them brought a brighter moment in a long and difficult night. Both groups expressed great joy for the twins, but could only speak for a moment before the seemingly never ending stream of people had to continue. The twins' uncle was conspicuously absent.

  The rest of the ceremony became a boring blur of speeches, etiquette, and a lot of standing up and sitting down. At some point Eloryn was crowned queen, but Memory couldn’t be sure when since it seemed to be mentioned so many times. The solid gold masculine crown just seemed to appear on Eloryn’s head at some point when Memory wasn’t looking. It appeared to be the very same one Arthur Maellan once wore, and she wondered if it was a replica or the real thing.

  The girls were herded from their thrones into the ball room. The center of the room remained clear and some folk were already dancing to a softly playing string quartet. Around the edges of the room, great tables stood, piled with towers of food. Memory longed to go to them, desperately needing to eat, but Hayes interrupted her by handing her a sheet of paper.

  “What is this? This had better be something I can eat.” She waved it vaguely.

  “You will be speaking after Eloryn. Don’t worry. We kept your speech short.”

  Public speaking? Kill me now. Memory wondered why she hadn’t been told about this earlier or given a chance to read what she was meant to say, but she probably would have if she’d actually attended the rehearsals. Memory glared at Hayes as he herded her back to another dais and two smaller ceremonial thrones to sit beside Eloryn. Hayes drew the attention of the room. Clara had followed and took her place again just behind Memory’s seat and explained to Memory that Eloryn now had to read out and confirm the renewing of the Pact, which is something that every new ruler must do.

  “It’s really more out of tradition than anything else.” Clara kept gossiping to Memory straight over the important words Eloryn spoke. “The only real way the Pact could be broken was if an act of war was committed, and even then, only if the offended monarch wished for it.”

  Memory tried to listen to both Clara and Eloryn, and it sounded like Eloryn was doing a good job. Her voice seemed so small and shy, but she spoke every word perfectly, having memorized the whole thing. At the end of the speech, Aine and Lugh both nodded their heads, and Finvarra just sneered.

  Hayes took over again. In his speech, he explained that ordinarily the various representatives of local governments and regions would confirm recognition of the new monarch, but as the Wizard’s Council was temporarily overseeing all governmental functions at this time the re-establishment of the government would be unfortunately delayed. This caused a few murmurs in the crowd, and Hayes thumped his cane on the ground to silence them and smiled gleefully.

  “I also wish to share some good news. By the wishes of our Queen, Thayl Vaircarn was put to death in a private ceremony earlier this week.”

  Memory’s head swung around in slow motion to stare at Hayes in disbelief. He’s really going to lie to everyone about how Thayl died and pretend it was all their plan?

  “Her majesty rightly felt that the tyrant needed no fanfare to his death, and the sooner he was removed from the land the better.
We were, of course, happy to carry out that request.” He chuckled, as if he had made a joke. The crowd joined in, applause building through the laughter.

  Memory’s inner fire raged. The sum of the day’s events caught up with her. She tasted bile. Memory didn’t think puking on the dais would make a good impression and stood to make her exit. Hayes smiled at her as she did and opened for her to begin her speech. Memory stood stunned for a moment, blinking at the roomful of people staring at her. So many expectant faces. Her gaze settled on Eloryn, who looked at her with an encouraging smile. Crapness. I’m really going to have to do this damn speech.

  Memory cleared her throat and stared at the written notes. Her hands sweated, smudging the ink, and trembled so much she could barely read the words.

  “People of Avall,” she stammered. There were a few claps and cheers. “I speak to you today not just as a princess, but as one of you. A daughter of Avall, joyous to once again be free, delivered from the blight on our land.” Memory skimmed over the script. What is this bullshit? She’d never say these things. Making it sound like she’d grown up in Avall and that she was ecstatic that Thayl was dead. More lies from Hayes. Memory crumpled the paper in her hands. If she was going to say anything they would be her words, and something meaningful. Something she believed in. And if it pissed off Hayes at the same time? One stone, twice the value.

  “And as princess of Avall, I want to announce that the new Wizard’s University won’t be restricted to just nobles. The study of magic will be open to anyone, no matter who they are.”

  Memory swore she heard crickets. Some muted applause from a few individuals was covered by Hayes, stepping beside her quick as anything and laughing over her announcement.

  “Of course commoners are welcome to join the university,” he said. “If they can afford the entrance fee!”

  The room roared with laughter again, as though they were putting on a funny skit together. Memory looked at Eloryn for support, but Eloryn just looked embarrassed for her.

  Memory stepped off the dais, pushing angrily through the gaudy crowd. These were the people she was expected to live around? People that laughed at jokes about people being killed and the poor being unable to pay for their education? Memory dug fingernails into her palms to distract herself from imminent tears.

  Clara trotted after her. “I think what you said up there was amazing.”

  Your fault.

  Memory turned on the spot, looking for the source of the voice. Clara smiled back sympathetically. “Although I think you chose the wrong crowd for such an announcement, being as everyone here was eligible to go to the university anyway and probably don’t want the likes of commoners attending beside them.”

  Unnatural.

  From behind her again.

  “Did you hear that?” Memory pushed through the crowd haphazardly. Her head ached. Her whole body ached. She was so exhausted she was probably delirious. Hissing whispers came from all around her in the crowd, dizzying her. She searched for their source, grabbing people as she went. Some laughed, others were diplomatically shocked, all were confused.

  “Hope, are you all right? You’re white as a ghost.” Clara kept after her but was swallowed up by the crowd, unable to keep up with Memory’s wild rush.

  Murderer.

  The word hit her like a freight train to the chest. She pushed her way out of the ballroom and ran.

  Memory was an emotional wrecking ball. She stumbled down long hallways, each step shaking under her and a sound like distant thunder filling her ears. Decorative suits of armor along the wall rattled as she passed them. She felt unstable, her insides steaming out. In her mind she kept seeing Thayl step backwards off the ledge and disappear. Over and over. She was far from the celebrations now but still heard the voices whispering. Your fault. Murderer.

  Memory tugged at her hair, pulling it free from its cage of bobby pins. Did I drive him to kill himself by making him talk about the ritual so much? Did he do it for me, so I didn’t have to see him executed?

  Her body jolted, faded. She was slipping, the Veil tugging at her. Passing a stairwell, she clutched onto the banister as though holding on to it would keep her anchored. The banister shuddered.

  Someone walked past, a shadowed shape. Memory caught a look at the face.

  “Lory? Help me, please.” Memory reached out, but the figure continued without pausing.

  Memory let go of the banister, stumbling after. The person’s body was blurry, shadowed, but Memory saw small glimpses of the figure’s face, reflected in darkened windows as it walked ahead. It was her sister’s face, for sure.

  “Eloryn? Stop it, this isn’t funny.”

  The figure turned a corner up ahead, and Memory broke into a wobbly jog. The rattling of armor and light fittings around her became more intense and curtains swirled and fluttered unnaturally.

  Memory turned the corner and gasped. Herself, she saw herself, face to face in a full length mirror framed on the wall. And standing next to her, right behind her, reflected in the mirror was a second Memory. Not Eloryn at all, but her, Hope, how she used to look, complete with the dyed hair and piercings. She even wore the same clothes that Memory had on when she had arrived in Avall, the same striped long-sleeved shirt, broken heart tee over the top, and torn jeans.

  Memory stared at this other self. Her other self smiled back.

  Holding her breath, Memory turned around. Horror ran like ice water in her bones.

  The other her wasn’t just a reflection. She was there.

  Memory stepped back.

  “Don’t be afraid,” the other version of herself said.

  “Who are you?” Memory asked, her lips quivering.

  “Hope.”

  But I’m Hope. No, I’m Memory. This is not real. I’m losing my mind.

  “I’m you. And you’re me. The broken pieces of our self.” Hope looked at Memory, a vacant, sad look in her eyes. “I’m here to be with you. Nobody can ever like us and nobody else will ever understand. Those idiots won’t take long to figure out you’re not a whole, real person. What do you think they’ll do when they realize the monster you are? Still pretend to be your friend?” Hope spoke vehemently, but then softened her tone. “But I’m here now. We can be together, you and me, like we should be, and I’ll make things better for you.”

  “No, you’re not real. Not real!” Memory screamed out loud, shutting her eyes tight. The rattling intensified and a great cracking sound came from the mirror at her back. Shards of glass shot out around her, in every direction as though projected out from her own body, which remained untouched. The sound of smashing glass was only overpowered by her shattering scream.

  Chapter 9

  Will could hear her screaming. Over the fireworks and oohs and aahs and giggles of nobles wandering the castle grounds enjoying the celebrations, he could hear her.

  He ran over the soft grass of the gardens, keeping himself within the shadows cast by tall hedges. He still wore the shirt, vest, and pants Clara had given him but knew he wasn’t presentable compared to the standards of those around him. He looked through an open door and quickly ducked inside.

  The long halls of this part of the palace were fortunately quiet. His bare feet padding on the cold marble echoed back to him. He broke into a full run, no longer keeping to shadows, only worried about getting to Memory as fast as possible.

  He found her curled against a wall, surrounded by broken mirror.

  He wanted to go to her, scoop her up, and keep her safe in his arms. His first step brought a bright burn of pain. A small sliver of mirror cutting into his heel.

  Will growled in frustration. His feet would be cut to shreds to reach her. He almost went anyway. After a deep breath to calm himself, he took off his vest and used it to clear a path to Memory, pushing the sharp shards away.

  Memory turned her head, acknowledging his presence.

  “Are we alone?” she asked.

  Will frowned and nodded. “You can get past the g
lass now,” he said, indicating the path he’d made. “Are you okay? How did it break?”

  “It’s okay. It wasn’t real.” Memory mumbled and made little sense. Tears still wet her cheeks and her makeup ran. He hadn’t seen her this bad since back in the other world.

  Memory stood up and stared at the path, making little effort to move.

  Will coaxed her. “Come on. I’ve got something I want to show you. Come with me?”

  Memory looked up at his face and after a moment a tiny smile appeared, and she walked clear of the broken mirror. “I’m sorry. God, I must be such a mess. I’ve had a pretty rough day.” A sob broke the end of her sentence.

  “It’s all right. We can have our own celebration, just us, okay?” Will nodded for her to follow him. Memory dried her eyes with her wrists and followed.

  Will had been wanting for a while to show her the place he’d found while roaming the palace grounds, but there’d never been a good time. Now also didn't seem good, but he needed something to distract Memory with and maybe make her happy. He led Memory through the quiet halls, up towards her rooms. Then he detoured, taking her up the spiral stairs of the tower at the eastern end of the palace. He hoped this way would work. Normally he’d come here from the outside of the building.

  After reaching a window on the second landing, he opened it. Memory gasped and shook her head, but he smiled and stepped out onto an old section of the castle walls. It looked like it had been abandoned and built around at some stage when the palace was expanded. As she followed him out the window, he held Memory’s hand, so she wouldn’t fall due to the monstrous dress she wore. He would break the rules to make sure she stayed safe. She didn’t seem to mind, and held his hand back tightly, and he could feel her shaking despite that she’d calmed down and no longer cried. She gave him a wry smile like she agreed how ridiculous her dress was for climbing around like this.

  Ahead of them a massive mound of overgrown ivy sprawled like a sea monster, leafy tendrils like tentacles reaching out in every direction. Memory had told Will how this wing had been closed off during the sixteen years of Thayl’s rule. The plants had completely grown over this end of the roof.