She left the elevator, feeling guilt for no absolute reason, when the doors across from hers opened. It was Ruby, muttering to herself, and aunt Tsavorite was with her.
“Oh, Ruby, look. There’s your niece.” She pointed at Memory. “She is lovely, is she not?”
Ruby nodded. “Yes yes, beautiful nose.”
Tsavorite smiled and shrugged when Memory pointed to her nose.
“Beautiful? My nose?”
“Ruby has her quirks.” Aunt Tsavorite said. From what Memory knew, she was forty-two years old, yet she looked so young and bright.
Memory sighed. “Okay. I’ll be in my room.”
“Jade!” Aunt Tsavorite called. “Would you like to have tea in my quarters?”
“Tea?” Memory wrinkled her nose. “Sorry. I hate tea.”
Aunt Tsavorite let out a breath of relief. “Thank goodness there is a sane person here. How about hot chocolate?”
“That I can do.”
Aunt Tsavorite’s room wasn’t as nearly as decorated nor big as Memory’s, but it was a guest room so it was to be expected. She ordered one of the maids to bring them hot chocolate and cake. She gestured to one of the velvet seats, and Memory sat down, unabashedly making herself comfortable.
“How have you been?”
“Good.” Memory shrugged. “Bored, to be honest.”
“Ah.” Aunt Tsavorite nodded understandingly. “I wanted to see you and talk to you in private but you were in your rooms. I was under the impression you were scared, or perhaps studying very hard. Being the King’s daughter is not easy.”
“Tell me about it.” Memory leaned back in the seat. “I’ve had a rough day. What about you, aunt Tsavorite?”
“Oh, just call me Tsavorite.” She laughed, and it was a welcome sound. “Aunt makes me seem old, which I’m not. Never.”
The food arrived and while Memory did her best to be proper and hold the cup of hot chocolate like she’d seen Tourmaline do with her tea, she was surprised to see Tsavorite wolf it down and stuff her mouth with cake.
“I’ll be here until Zoisite’s birthday party.” She said with a full mouth. “Please, don’t mind my manners.”
Memory, happy that the woman didn’t care, wolfed down her cake just the same. “How’s your husband?”
“He’s fine. Work and all that.”
“How long have you been here?”
Finished with her food, Tsavorite wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her gown and pushed the silverware off to the side. “I was going to leave last month, but the funeral delayed my leave. I then decided to stay until Zoisite’s party.”
Zoisite. That girl. “She’s so young.” Memory mused. “When I was that old, all I did was play hopscotch.”
Tsavorite stared at her before bursting into laughter. “Ah, I keep forgetting you were gone for a whole eleven years. What is sophotch?”
“Hopscotch? Er, I’ll show you sometime.” Memory finished the last of her hot chocolate and asked for a second. “Prince Quincy…how did he die?”
Sighing, Tsavorite clasped her hands in her lap. “Don’t ask too many questions, Jade.”
“Yes, but–why is everyone so secretive about it?”
The woman waved her hands around. “No need to worry about it, Jade. Leukemia. He was young and small, his body couldn’t handle it.”
“Right.”
“Oh, Zoisite.” Tsavorite ungracefully changed the subject. “Mother just condemned her into a week in her room.”
Memory, going along with the subject change, nodded. She carefully noted how Tsavorite let out a breath of relief when she dropped the subject of Prince Quincy. “Why? Besides, it was my fault.”
“Mother knows you are unaware of protocol. But Zoisite knows but she still broke it.”
“You can’t tell me running around barefoot on palace grounds is illegal.” Memory said straight-faced. Tsavorite hummed and nodded, and her eyes widened. “You’re serious?”
“But of course. We’re palace women. We do no running of any kind.”
“So we pretty much sit around and drink tea? Even ten year old girls?”
Tsavorite sighed. “Things have changed. When I was young and lived here, there were a lot of children around. His majesty, Tourmaline, Ruby, and I. Even with rules in place we couldn’t be stopped from wreaking havoc.” Her eyes wrinkled with nostalgia, and Memory could easily see her recalling her younger days.
“Zoisite was a surprise. I didn’t think mother, especially so weak, could have another child but she did. Father was terribly happy but she wasn’t, as it worsened her condition.” Tsavorite let out a long breath.
“Once father passed away, she fell so ill she couldn’t move. I was married and had a thirteen year old son of my own, King Darius was always away with Chrysander. You were gone by that time and for the next two years, Prince Edward and Cassian were taken to the summer house overseas for protection. There was no one around for Zoisite to play with. No stable father figure, no healthy mother. She had Tourmaline and sometimes Emerald, both of which aren’t great company.”
Memory was reminded of her own childhood. She had no one her age to play with and often played alone the rare times she wasn’t trying to protect Lulu or go to school.
But Zoisite’s situation was maddening.
“Sorry to ask, but is Emerald the redhead?” Memory asked, veering away from the topic at hand for a bit.
Her aunt-not-really nodded. “She is my cousin. Not by blood.”
That was interesting, definitely something she needed to know. “What do you mean?”
“I know it’s tough, trying to know people you used to know, but it’s just so odd for me.” Tsavorite chuckled. “My father had two brothers, Balthasar and Yale. Yale was the eldest and he was adopted, since my grandmother thought she was barren. But she wasn’t, of course. Anyway, Yale was kicked out of the palace when Ara, your grandfather was named king. He married the daughter of the royal family in Germany and regained his status. Emerald is their only child.”
I really need a history lesson. Memory nodded, pretending like she understood, but actually couldn’t get past “Emerald is my cousin, not by blood”. Oh well.
“I…I best get back to my room.” She stated awkwardly. When Tsavorite stared at her quizzically, Memory elaborated.
“Father. He’ll be visiting me.”
“I see.” Tsavorite murmured, half to herself. After thanking her, Memory slipped out of the room. But before the door closed, she heard someone’s voice, a voice that didn’t belong to Tsavorite, trickle out of the room.
Weird.
Memory was so scared that she didn’t even notice when Diana clothed her in a dress. It was the first dress she’d worn since the disaster that was high school prom, but she didn’t care. Not when the freaking King was about to meet her.
He obviously doesn’t care much about me–I mean Jade–if he waits this long to visit me.
Diana bid her good luck, and another maid who turned out to be Sarah’s older sister, Alexa, led her to the mysterious West Wing.
The walk was a long one, going from her room to the parlor in the Main Wing, and from there another underground hall led to the drawing room in the West Wing.
“I cannot go farther than this, princess.” Alexa curtsied. “Um. You can let go now.”
Memory realized she’d been gripping the girl’s hand so tightly it was turning purple.
“Sorry!” She yelped. “Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”
“You were nervous.” Alexa smiled genuinely–she was the complete opposite of Sarah. “Good luck. The King is waiting in the first room on the left.”
Even wiping her hands on her dress didn’t remove all the sweat from her hands. Memory felt hot. And slightly dizzy.
Her feet felt like Jell-O, and any moment she would topple over. This could not be happening.
Do it for the money, Memory. The money. Twenty-five million, remember?
Memory took a deep
breath and pushed open the doors. The first thing she noticed was that it was a relatively small room, with one wall completely made of glass. There was a coffee table in the middle and a couch on either side.
The King himself was sitting on one of them. In his hands was a newspaper, and she couldn’t see anything but grey hair and a gold crowd.
“Come in.”
His voice was strong and nearly swept Memory off her feet. It unnerved her to the bone, but somehow, she made it to the couch without falling over.
The King set the newspaper down, folding it carefully and setting it aside. Memory could see where Prince Edward and Prince Cassian got their eyes from–King Darius’ eyes were just as blue, if not bluer, but there was a flicker of danger in them. A warning.
Memory crossed her legs like she’d been told by Diana, and even sat without slouching. King Darius picked up a cup of tea and sipped it carefully, watching Memory’s every move.
Don’t talk unless he does, say as little as possible, and don’t eat anything if you think it’ll make a mess.
It felt like a millennium passed before he spoke.
“Your eyes are just like your brothers.”
Memory dared to look directly at him, but after a second, she flinched and looked back at her lap.
“Your hair. Perhaps years in the sun brightened it?”
He was waiting for an answer.
“Um, yes.”
“Did you say something?”
“Yes.” Memory said louder with more confidence. “I spent many years in the sun.”
“I did not ask where you spent your years.” King Darius took another sip. “I am quite disappointed that you have not lived up to the standards of a royalty.”
Don’t get mad, don’t get mad, don’t get mad…I want my dignity back! “I can hardly complain if life treats me unwell.”
“I suppose. You have your uses, after all, and there is nothing that cannot be remedied.”
Memory’s ears turned red. This guy was bonkers. The theory that Prince Cassian was abnormal because of his upbringing was true. If she had this guy as a father, she would’ve lost her sanity years ago.
“But blood is not the only thing that matters. If I hear of the feats you have done, like the one earlier today, you will be dropped from the family register. The title of princess does not come as easily as you think.”
Blushing, Memory looked down in shame. “Sorry.”
“Sorry does not fix anything. Your brothers have worked hard, and as the third child I expect you to live up to that. And even then I will not be impressed. Understood?”
“Y-yes.”
“Next week, extended family will be arriving. A ball will be held. It is your first time seeing them in eleven years. Do not embarrass me. “King Darius stood up. “Help yourself to some biscuits. They are the best in the country.” He said arrogantly. When he left, Memory sighed in relief, clutching her chest tightly.
“Oh my god. Oh my god.” This is the single most scariest thing I’ve ever done. And I survived. Oh my god.
Nervous, Memory stuffed her mouth with the biscuits on the table, hoping it would quell her anxiety. But it didn’t leave, even that night. She tossed and turned. What if the King kicked her out before Queen Beryl died, before she convinced her to hand over the inheritance? What then? It would be twenty-five million dollars down the drain.
She eventually fell asleep, but was plagued by nightmares. Diana rushed in on more than one occasion, but Memory, stubborn and prideful, refused any help.
“I’m just scared.” She told her. “I’ll be fine.”
It was a repeat of the previous day; Memory dashing through the palace halls, screaming bloody murder, while Diana chased her with a broom. She was hiding behind the gold statue near the parlor when Elliot appeared out of nowhere.
“Princess?”
Memory froze, jumping. She burst into a fit of coughs. “Diana?!”
“It is Elliot, princess.”
“Oh. Well.” Memory’s heart started pounding. “At least I didn’t fall this time, right?”
Elliot’s flat expression didn’t change. “Of course, Princess.” He turned to leave when Memory stopped him.
“Can I ask you something?”
“You do not need permission, Princess.”
“Please don’t say Princess at the end of every sentence.” Memory requested, busy looking right and left for any sign of a broomstick. “It’s kinda annoying.”
“I apologize, Princess. What else am I supposed to say?”
“Jade works.” Memory spotted Diana turn around the corner and immediately stiffened behind the statue. She put a finger up to her lips, motioning for Elliot to be silent.
“Ah, master Elliot.” Memory heard Diana say in her sweetest voice. “Have you seen her highness, Princess Jade?”
Elliot’s eyes flickered towards her, and Memory shook her head making a zipping motion on her lips. He looked back at Diana.
“I am afraid not.”
“That’s a pity. Let me know if you see her–she still hasn’t completed last week’s work.”
When the last of Diana’s footsteps faded away, Memory let out her breath, laughing.
“Goodness. For a moment there I thought you’d tell her the truth.”
“You need to complete your work, Princess.”
Memory groaned. Now he was just being irritating. “Jade. Or Lady Jade, if you have to. Anything but princess. That word is going to drive me crazy.”
“As you wish, Lady Jade.”
Memory stared at him, but forced herself to prey her eyes away. It was tiring to look at him so much.
“Have you seen my brother? Prince Cassian, I mean.”
Elliot nodded stiffly. “He left for Japan.”
She jumped. “What? When?”
“This morning.”
“When will he be back?”
“Next week.” Elliot bowed. “Excuse me, princess.”
Memory’s jaw hung low, still reeling from the fact her only sort-of-ally had abandoned in a tank of piranhas. How was she going to survive? Would the madness ever end?
“Princess Jade?”
“Elliot, I said–oh, uncle.” Memory nodded in greeting. He chuckled and stroked his small goatee. To her, he looked like a younger, much friendlier and definitely less scarier version of King Darius.
“I see. Running away from the head maid again?”
Memory paused. “How did you know?”
He laughed uproariously. “Everyone knows. Ah, we haven’t had such excitement in the palace in years.”
“Glad to know my pain brings you amusement.” She retorted, planning her next move. Diana had headed left, towards the kitchens, and she knew the best way to avoid her was to sneak into places the maids had no access too.
“I was about to go for a joust, but if you’d like, I could help you hide.”
Memory smiled with glee. “Really?”
“But of course.” He leaned forward and whispered, “This house is full of secrets.”
He grinned and led her to the portrait hanging across the entrance to the dining hall. Memory hadn’t seen it before, but she’d only been in the dining hall once, during that disastrous dinner on the first day.
It was a simple painting, one of not a person but a vase of flowers. Memory rather liked it.
“Watch.” Chrysander fingered the side of the golden frame around the painting, and there was a quiet click. The painting slid sideways.
“No. Way.” She was dumbfounded. A cough itched at the back of her throat but thankfully it didn’t make it. “You can’t be serious.”
“Follow me, your highness.”
The painting revealed a dark and unfinished tunnel. The ground was flooding with at least an inch of water, and the sides were made of soil and trash.
“Do these tunnels stretch all around the palace?”
Chrysander pressed the button on the painting again and moved deeper into the tunnel as it s
hut. The tunnel plunged into darkness, but only momentarily, as Chrysander pulled out his cell phone.
“I do not know if you remember the story of Harold and Crystal Eastcote?” He asked her, using his cell phone to light the halls.
Memory distinctly recalled reading about the pair but couldn’t articulate any details.
“Not to worry, then. My grandfather, your great grandfather, Harold was married to Crystal. They didn’t get along too well because he wouldn’t let her leave their room except for formal occasions. She, after she had their only child, had these tunnels made so she could sneak around the palace.”
“She was a pretty darn awesome woman, then.” Memory said, following her uncle as he took the right path when the tunnel split into two.
“She was. But was caught and Harold divorced her. He soon married Spinal. That itself is another story, but Harold never got rid of the tunnels. It was an effective way to get into the forbidden rooms of the palace.”
Memory gasped. “Does it go to every room?”
“Every single one, I promise you. Except bathrooms.”
“That’s still like, four hundred rooms. Did you memorize the pathways?”
Chrysander chuckled. “There’s a map. But I can’t reveal too much, can I?”
As she laughed along with him, they climbed higher into the tunnel. It led to a wooden ceiling which he pushed open, revealing his private living quarters.
“We just crawled out of your floor.” Memory realized, watching him replace the carpeted tile of his room. The tile slid back into place, like no one ever knew there was a hidden passageway entrance there.
“It’s certainly something.”
Chrysander had to work, there was some conference call or something dealing with foreign relations, but he let her stay in his room.
His room was bigger than hers, and had a bathroom double the size. Memory spent the majority of her time in it, making faces in the mirror. It was an effective way to kill time, really.
She was about to leave when she heard a female voice outside, high-pitched and annoying.
Tourmaline.
Memory pressed her close to the door, hoping to catch some of the conversation. She only caught bits and pieces until the two came closer to the bathroom. She hid underneath the sink but the footsteps stopped. They were right outside the restroom.
The Liars Page 8
