The Liars
Page 6
“A seven year old read this stuff?” She asked herself indecorously. “Rugged Individualism, Advanced Algebra, History of Eastcote…dear god.” Most of them were books she would’ve read in high school, or even college. She probably wouldn’t even understand them!
“No wonder they’re all so boring.” Maybe not Prince Cassian. He’s got the language of sarcasm down.
Of course, she hadn’t met the rest of the family, but she could make an educated guess.
There was a telescope in the corner next to an oak desk, and a large map of the world hanging on the adjacent wall. On the desk was a globe, and Memory spun it around and instantly regretted it when a cloud of dust swirled into her face.
At that moment, the double golden doors at the front of the room swung open, hitting the wall. Memory jumped and rushed to the lounge, raising an eyebrow when she saw a gaggle of women dressed in pretty gowns with fur shawls and earrings larger than their heads. Diana shoved her way to the front, causing a lot of sneers from the others.
“I’m sorry, ladies.” She curtsied. “I’m under orders from his highness to not let anyone in.”
“Move, Diana.” One of the women sniffed as she spoke in a high-pitched voice. “I deserve to see my niece.”
Memory, scared for her life, ducked behind one of the velvet chairs, peering to the side to see Diana and the two maids from before pushing the women back.
“I said–”
“Tourmaline, calm down. Please do not pretend to care when you don’t.” Another woman’s voice joined the conversation.
The first woman hissed. “Tsavorite, I will not–”
“That’s Lady Tsavorite. And I suggest you move, I am the elder here, so–”
“Hah, as if a woman who acts like a child is my elder!”
“This is coming from you, and you haven’t even gotten married yet! Why don’t you go bed your next suitor, hmm?”
“Like your husband could satisfy your needs–“
“Ladies!” Diana clapped loudly. “Would you really defy his highness’ orders? Niece or not, you will see her when she is ready.”
The women shuffled out, one sneering and the other pouting sadly. Diana shut the doors with a sigh, and Memory crawled out from her hiding place, dubious as to what just happened.
“Who…”
Diana turned towards her. “You don’t remember, dear?”
“I, uh, well, sort of?” Memory wracked her head for the names she heard briefly. “Was that aunt tangerine?”
Diana suppressed a laugh. “I would keep you from them if I could, but alas, they are family. Oops,” She covered her mouth, “Forget that I said that.”
“That wasn’t tangerine, then?”
“Tourmaline. And Lady Tsavorite.”
Oh. They’re two of the four sisters King Darius has.
Memory took a deep breath. “I think I’m ready.”
Diana eyed her carefully. “The family is not normally all together on one occasion. This is a rare opportunity, and a big one indeed.”
“Are they here because of Prince Quincy’s death?”
For the first time, Diana remained silent, even as she pulled out gown after gown for her to try on.
Hair done, makeup done, and now the dress. Diana had picked out a dark green dress for her while she was getting her hair done by another maid, but now that she looked at it, the only answer was: “No.”
It was pretty in theory, made of the finest silk money could buy, but Memory found its low neckline so intimidating that any ascetic value it held was a moot point.
“Princess Jade, it is almost supper time. We need to go.”
“I refuse. There is no way I am wearing a dress.”
Diana’s eyebrows furrowed. “You can’t wear that, though.” She gestured to her fraying cardigan and jeans.
Memory huffed. “Can I choose, then? There had to be something other than just dresses in there!” She pointed to the closet, and Diana reluctantly let her go.
If this was a closet, Memory wondered what her closet back home would be. A broom closet, perhaps? Or a rat’s hideout?
This wasn’t a closet. It was madness.
And even with the rack upon rack of dresses and purses and shoes, there wasn’t a single shirt in sight. Or a pair of jeans, for that matter.
Apparently, girls weren’t allowed to wear clothing that had one hole for each leg. It irked her to no end. Maybe she could stitch a skirt into trousers or something?
Nah. She didn’t have the time nor talent to do so.
“Skirt it is.” Memory hesitantly selected a decent grey skirt which had (thankfully) no frills and paired it with a black tank top and a green sweater. She held it up in the mirror.
“Not bad. Viletta, you better be proud.”
Diana cursed at her choice but gave her no heed as she led her outside the room and down the hall.
The hall was at least fifteen feet wide and the walls stretched up to maybe twenty, thirty feet. Crystal chandeliers lined the ceiling, and Memory wondered if maybe Prince Quincy had been killed by a falling chandelier. It was certainly a possibility.
“This is the East wing. The ballroom, parlor, kitchen, library, dining hall and other rooms for usage by the entire family is in the main building.”
Memory walked past the pairs of doubles doors, wondering what rooms they led to. “What about the west wing?”
“Forbidden to anyone except King Darius and those he deem fit. There’s also a fourth wing behind the Main Wing which houses all the guests.”
“Guests?”
“Those not directly related to his majesty. Dear, you must’ve hit your head very hard when you were young to forget this.”
Memory had to refrain from laughing in amusement. The king, she thought, was more of a nut job than initially thought. Here he was, with a house so large it could fit every poor person in Helviera in a single room, yet he found it hard to donate to charities? This house was the reason why the country was in so much debt.
Maybe, when I leave, I can sell royal family secrets to the press. That’ll be something.
They took an elevator down to the underground level, and from there was a set of staircases that led them to the main building. While the wings looks detached from the outside, they were all connected from the inside.
The staircases brought them to the parlor, which was even bigger than her room. It took Memory almost a minute to take it all in.
I hate the king.
“His majesty never dines in the dining hall, and I believe he is leaving for England at the moment.”
When Memory realized that Diana was watching her carefully t gauge her reaction, she dramatically lifted an arm to her head.
“Oh, I’m so sad! Why can’t he come see his only daughter! Especially after so long?”
She must’ve done a horrible job because Diana called her cheeky and returned to leading her around the palace. They came across another set of double doors (what is with this place and double doors?). Diana smiled.
“I’ll be in the kitchen, dear.” She slipped away, unnoticed, leaving Memory standing at the doors, about to hyperventilate.
“…who are you?”
Coming from the parlor was a woman who looked a lot like the bickering duo who had tried to enter her room but a lot younger. Thirty, maybe? She had a blank look on her face, and the trademark brown hair and blue eyes.
Another aunt of Prince Cassian’s, then.
“Um.” Memory cleared her throat and tried to sound confident. “I’m Jade.”
“Oh.” The woman blinked again. “You have a pretty nose.”
What? Memory’s hand went up to her face. “Nose?”
“Yes. It’s elegant.” Her voice was thin and airy.
“Thank you?”
“No. Thank you.”
The woman made a move to open the doors, leaving Memory utterly confused about what must’ve been the most awkward conversation in the history of conversations.
“Is that your girlfriend?”
“How dare you bring her into the palace, your father isn’t going to be pleased–”
“Pleased? He’s going to be disowned!”
“Brother, that’s your niece!”
“What?”
“Prince Edward told me.”
“Wait, does that mean he’s dating his sister?”
“Zoisite, that’s Jade!”
“I’m confused.”
That last one was Memory, and thought her voice was tiny compared to the shouting in the hall, it was like a gush of water that had been dumped over their heads. They immediately quieted, and Prince Cassian, sitting near the end of the long wood table, had his head in his hands.
Even though everyone was stunned silent, someone still stood up and boomed, “QUIET!”
Memory looked straight across, only to have her eyes meet with the person sitting at the head of the table. She was an elegant woman, wearing no fur shawls or frills but a delicate silk gown the color of peaches. Her face was long and thin, and her eyes were hawk-like.
Memory knew this woman. Or killer, more like. The second wife of King Darius, Queen Pearl, the mother of Prince Quincy, the woman who ordered the execution of this supposed traitor from her town. But afterwards, people found out there was no evidence, but the royal family hadn’t even delivered an apology.
Of course, she was in no position to point a finger. She was simply running through what she knew about these people from her life in Whecombe Pass.
But she wasn’t in Whecombe Pass anymore, she was in the palace, and she was princess Jade.
The woman eyed Jade carefully. The necklace resting around her long neck bounced up and down as she walked to one of the waiters standing off the corner and then made her way towards the entrance.
She spared Memory no glance even as she breezed by her, the strong perfume she wore causing her to cough.
Then Prince Cassian stood up, pulled out a chair, and motioned for her to come in. She shakily stepped into the dining hall.
And her foot slid on the cloth of her skirt.
She hit the floor with a large bang, and everyone stood up, trying to get a look at her. Thankfully, she felt someone take her by the hand and pull her up. She was too embarrassed to look at him in the face. He let go of her and fell into a bow.
“Finally nice to meet you, Princess.”
“Er. Yeah.” She refused to look at anyone as she turned around, trying to rush outside, but Prince Cassian stopped her.
“Could you get any more clumsier? Reminds me of the younger days.”
That pried a giggle from most, if not all, occupants of the room. Memory tried smile given his attempt to save face but nothing to save her now. She was going to die here.
“Elliot, I think she’s frozen. But she needs to eat. Bring her here.”
The man who’d helped her gently took her by the arm and held her to where Prince Cassian was waiting and set her down. He then took his place across from her, and when she looked at him, the thanks she was about to say died in her throat.
Why, exactly, is he not the poster child of every clothing brand out there?
She stared at him unblinkingly. He definitely looked related to Prince Cassian, but there was no way anyone a part of the royal family could be that good looking. No, good looking didn’t even justify it. He was ethereal. Unreal.
Great. Now I’ve gone mad.
And the woman sitting next to him? She was unbelievably gorgeous. It was like she wore no makeup and yet managed to out shine every other person in the room. She was an angel descendant from heaven itself.
And then she opened her mouth.
“Ah, well, I don’t have to worry about anything, then.” Her voice was high-pitched, like chalk on chalkboard. She was one of the women who’d tried to get into her room.
Tangerine? No. Tourmaline.
Memory nodded, trying to smile. “Aunt Tourmaline.”
“I suppose your famed beauty was exaggerated, was it not, Tsavorite?”
Memory turned to Tsavorite, who was situated next to Tourmaline. She smiled.
“No, she’s lovely.” Her eyes began to tear up. “It is like a dream. I would have never thought that Jade, our Jade, would return.”
Tsavorite–or Aunt Tsavorite, she would be called–wasn’t as beautiful as Tourmaline but her voice wasn’t as annoying, and she seemed to have some modicum of sanity. And she was being nice.
Gotta give points there.
“Ah yes, she is.” The man sitting next to Memory agreed, and actually ruffled her hair. Her jaw dropped, horrified, but Cassian pinched her.
“Uncle Chrysander.” He murmured quietly, and Memory relaxed.
“Prince Cassian,” Uncle Chrysander started with a strong voice, “Do let us know how you found her.” His lips twitched, and Memory was briefly reminded of Bryan.
Prince Cassian nodded obediently, launching into a dull story which sounded like he was reciting from a script, while Memory tried to eat. The food was no doubt good, but she just couldn’t taste it very well. Her nervousness overwhelmed her.
She simply watched everyone at the table. There was uncle Chrysander, Prince Cassian’s only uncle as far as she knew, aunt Tourmaline (Tangerine is a better name), aunt Tsavorite, prince Edward, the handsome dude named Elliot but she had no idea who he was, the weird woman who’d complimented her nose of all things, and two others. One was a little girl in a frilly blue dress with a permanent sneer on her face, and the other was a redhead. Red hair. And green eyes. Was she Uncle Chrysander’s wife? Or Elliot’s? No, Elliot looked Prince Cassian’s age. But this was a strange family with strange traditions.
In one word, dinner was suffocating. Even the roasted lobster, clams, and snails didn’t do much to help her appetite.
And when Prince Cassian excused himself, Memory went with him, clinging to his arm. He smiled at her but once outside the dining hall he shrugged her arm away.
“What?”
“I. Almost. Died.” She took a deep breath, her heart beating almost two hundred times per minute. “They’re all crazies. I can’t survive.”
“That was the hardest part.” Prince Cassian said. “From now on, do the work you need to do. You can spend your time in your room, if you wish…as long as you meet Queen Beryl.”
Right. Your grandmother.
“But – but – I can’t!” She threw her hands into the air. “I don’t know these people.” Her eyes darted towards all the maids and waiters walking around in the halls and immediately added, “I mean, I feel like I don’t know these people. I lost my memory, you know.”
“You didn’t read up?” He asked dryly. He didn’t look surprised.
“Uh. Well. I tried to.”
“We have a problem.”
And that was how she ended up in the study area in her room with her “brother” pacing back and forth in the ungodly hours of morning.
“You won’t run into people too much, except during parties.” He told her. “Even dinners tend to be small, but for the next week until everyone leaves, they’ll be hectic.”
“Problem solved, then.” Memory rubbed her eyes. “Can I go to sleep?”
“No. You need to at least know name and the age of each person. And what your relationship with them should be.”
“Should?”
Prince Cassian sat down in front of her, hands clasped.
“Careful.” He whispered. “Even though the maids are gone, there are eyes and ears everywhere. Don’t ask questions, since I need to be quick. Males aren’t allowed on this floor.”
“Sucks for you, then.”
He rolled his eyes. “I’ll give you a basic rundown.”
Memory, eager to go to sleep in that fluffy bed of hers, nodded.
“Queen Beryl and King Ara have six children. King Darius, the eldest son, Tsav
orite, Tourmaline–”
“Hold up. I thought there were five?”
He frowned. “Now you decide to think. Legally, well, in the family register, there are five. King Darius, Tsavorite, Tourmaline, Chrysander, and Zoisite, in order from oldest to youngest. But…” He pursed his lips. “The sixth, Ruby, is a secret. She was born after Tourmaline but has severe mental disabilities.”
Memory was no longer sleepy. Was that the woman who complimented my nose? “So. She’s not officially part of the family?”
“No.”
That fired Memory into irritation. “Did Queen Beryl kick her out? Is that what you do? Kick out useless people? I bet Ruby is probably the sanest out of all of you.”
Prince Cassian held up a finger, angry. “Careful with what you say, Jade.”
Right. I’m supposed to be a part of this family. “Sorry. I just…I had a friend when I was younger.” She admitted, slightly embarrassed. “She wasn’t born normal. But who said what’s normal? She was really happy. And fun to be around. So…”
“Ruby wasn’t kicked out.” Prince Cassian’s expression softened. “She lives here but isn’t allowed to leave the palace.”
Memory felt a deep sadness for the woman, but refused to admit. She pushed Cassian to keep talking.
“Tsavorite married early to Malden Jackson. She technically lives at the Jackson estate overseas but is visiting for a couple months. Her son, Myron, is two years older than me. He’s twenty-three.”
“Did he and Malden come for Prince Quincy’s funeral?” Memory asked, interested. Prince Cassian nodded.
“They’re busy people, so they left immediately afterwards. Stay away from Myron.” Even at Memory’s questioning look, he didn’t elaborate. “Tourmaline was engaged to Jace Jackson, Malden’s brother, almost fifteen years ago but refuses to marry him. She doesn’t get along very well with Tsavorite.”
“I could see that.” Memory responded with amusement, recalling the two’s constant bickering at the dinner table.
“She has many suitors. While she’s not allowed to bring them inside the palace except for formal occasions, she does anyway. As long as you don’t go near her private quarters you won’t run into them.” His cheeks reddened a bit, and Memory suspected he’d walked into his aunt and her boyfriend more than once.