“Here.” She said grabbing his arm and pulling him into the middle of the crowd. “Have fun, okay?”
“This music.” He stated, wrinkling his nose in a way that reminded her of Zoisite, and Memory huffed.
“Look, pretty boy.” She jabbed a finger at his chest. “You and your brother will be king one day.” He hissed, but she continued, knowing no one would hear them over the music. “You should at least know how to socialize with us.”
He’s adorable. In a really, really, really weird way.
“But–”
“No buts. You can do the freaking waltz and tango and quickstep and whatnot. There’s no way you can’t handle this.” At that, Memory joined the dancing, making quick friends with a young sixteen year old with a fake tan.
She blatantly avoided Prince Cassian, hoping the experience would force him to not be such an uptight prick at times, when she noticed the tall buff man standing near the front, shouting loudly. He wore flowers around his bare neck and large shorts, and metallic glasses covered his eyes. The stereo next to him was turned off, and the man clapped his hands.
“Okay okay.” He bellowed, his hands in the air. “I have to say, I didn’t expect to see so many pretty faces here,” He stopped to wink at a girl near the front. “I’m proud to say Hill Industries will be expanding to India and southeast Asia!”
The crowd erupted in cheers, almost busting her ear drums.
“Help yourselves to the buffet inside, and dance on!”
The music was turned back on as the buff man stepped down, moving through the crowd. Memory watched him as he stepped under the shade, nearing a table with one occupant; a small girl with blue eyes and silky brown hair.
Memory knew those eyes anywhere. But…
“Grab him!” Prince Cassian’s voice made her jump. “That’s Mr. Banks.”
Memory trudged forward, but was cut off by a gaggle of girls that greeted the buff man. He hugged them all and started chatting, and she groaned.
“He’s busy. I think it’ll be better if you introduce yourself as–well, you.”
“And he’ll tell me what I need to know?”
Memory glared at him. “So? You think me, a stranger, could go up to him and demand what happened with that Chadwick guy? That isn’t going to be weird, or get me thrown off the boat? Besides, he would’ve been confused anyway if we knew his identity. Best to just tell him the truth.”
Prince Cassian narrowed his eyes, contemplating her suggestion. “It may cause a ruckus on the ship.”
“How bad could it be?”
Very bad, it turned out.
It was a good thing that finding Kendall Banks had been easy, but getting him alone wasn’t. The minute Memory stepped in his field of view; he sidled up to her and slung an arm around her bare shoulders. Before she could even escape his death grip, Prince Cassian roughly yanked her away, his hand clutching the back of her swimsuit so tightly it choked her.
Kendall glared at Cassian, the brunette girl on his other side leaving him, and he lowered his metallic shades. They revealed a set of dark eyes, similar to Martin’s. There was no doubt that they were brothers, despite the age gap.
As Memory stepped back, the man puffed up with arrogance.
“I must say, you’re a fine looking–”
“Finish that sentence and you’ll find yourself thrown overboard.” Prince Cassian interrupted, and despite being dwarfed by the buff man, his glare was enough to send him cringing in fear.
“Hah, as if you scrawny little boy could do that.” Kendall smirked. “Do you know who I am?”
Memory exhaled deeply. “My second cousin?”
“Kendall Hill. You really don’t want to get on my bad side–” It was now Memory’s words sunk in and Kendall Banks whipped towards her. His eyes flickered between Prince Cassian and Memory.
He gingerly stepped back.
“What the hell?”
He was staring at her chest. And he didn’t even bother to hide it.
Perverted lecher.
The little girl from before was standing behind his legs, tugging at his shorts.
“Daddy, can we go?”
Her high-pitched voice struck a chord with Memory, but she had no idea why as she struggled to cover her chest with the beach towel. Sighing, Prince Cassian pushed her into a seat in the indoor restaurant after ordering Kendall to clear everyone out.
Kendall Banks wasn’t happy.
“Not cool, dude. You just made me lose a couple hundred bucks right there.” He sneered. “Not that it matters to you.”
Prince Cassian wasn’t fazed as his expression hardened with a steely resolve.
“I can hardly discuss the family heirloom in the vicinity of your customers.”
“That again?” Kendall slid into the seat across from Memory, hands clenched into fists. “I’m not saying anything until my lawyer is here.”
At that, a cruel glint lit up in the Prince’s eyes.
“I have eight guards surrounding the area, two are on the ship at the moment, and another six at your nearest residence.” He picked up a grape from a leftover meal and placed it between two of his fingers. “You know the rules–you don’t follow along, everything you own...” The grape was crushed between his hands, and Kendall Banks choked out a laugh as the little girl settled onto his lap, playing with her brown curls.
Memory knew he was lying. Only four guards had come with them to Clithorp, but didn’t say anything. It was probably a tactic of his to extract information for his purposes.
Putting it that way…I’d hate to have him as an enemy.
“I always knew you’d be an insufferable prick when you grew up.”
Whether it was out of defense or to just be pure annoying, Memory piped up, “You should meet his older brother, then. You’d love him.”
While Prince Cassian gave her a dirty look, Kendall Banks studied her carefully.
“Jade.” He finally said, probably thinking back to what she’d said about being second cousins. “You’re alive?”
“No. You’re just hallucinating.” Memory quipped dryly, one corner of her mouth lifting up in a sardonic grin.
He glanced back and forth between the ‘siblings’. “The infuriating duo, eh?”
Memory shrugged, but jumped when Kendall pounded his fist on the table. The plates and silverware clattered.
“Cut the shit, Eastcote. What the hell do you want?”
Her opinion of the man was sinking by the second, especially because of the language he was using in front of the little girl–his daughter.
“Where were you on the eighth of October?” Prince Cassian questioned. He said this cordially, but with a clear underlying threat.
“How am I supposed to know?” Kendall sneered. “I go to too many parties to count.”
At that, the glint in the Prince’s eyes erupted into flames. Memory was suddenly very, very scared.
“There were no records of you boarding any ship or airplane. Your daughter was left off at your coworkers place. Chadwick Philips was recorded walking into a sports shop and buying a ski mask. Care to explain?”
Kendall pursed his lips, clearly angry. His knuckles turned bright red.
“I’ll tell you what I told that idiot investigator. I have nothing to do with Chadwick. I didn’t even know the heirloom had been stolen until it was in the news.” He gritted out. “And how the hell did you get that information? I swear to god, I’ll charge you for–”
At that, Memory leapt at the chance to speak. “So you were in Sugrove? Someone probably snuck you into the palace. You got there using a private jet, I think, which is how you got there undetected. And then–”
Her mouth snapped shut when the table Kendall had been sitting at was suddenly chucked at her face. She dodged it, but one of the legs grazed her right arm, leaving behind a thin trail of red.
The little girl, Lilyana, shrieked. “Daddy!”
He snarled at her, cursing, and Prince Cassian dived tow
ards her as another table was hurled towards them.
“SHUT UP!” Plates shattered on the ground, silverware was thrown into the air, and Prince Cassian struggled to avoid the flying objects.
He fished his phone out of his pocket, but Kendall slapped it out of his hands. It clattered to the floor in pieces as the large man punched the Prince in the face. He grabbed him by the collar.
“What do you know, you piece of shit?!”
Prince Cassian struggled to breathe, and horrified, Memory reached for the nearest object–a napkin dispenser–and threw it at Kendall’s back. He didn’t budge.
“Why?” The Prince wheezed. “Why do you hate my family so much?”
“Why?” Kendall slammed his head onto a table. “I’ll tell you why!”
Blood spurted out of the Prince’s mouth, and Memory realized he’d probably never been in a full on fight before. She pulled her own phone out, tapping the keyboard quickly.
“Guards!” She shouted into the phone, and when Kendall heard, he made a leap for her. She jumped onto the counter, kicking whatever she could at him. It didn’t hinder him in the least as he grabbed her arm and flipped her over onto the floor like a sack of flour.
Lilyana was still shrieking.
Kendall’s foot made contact with her ribs, and Memory thought she heard a crunching sound.
Uh oh.
He moved to kick her again but she rolled over, a pang of sharp pain shooting through her chest. Her sharp nails scratched at his skin as she aimed a misjudged kick at his groin. It was avoided swiftly, and his fist slammed down on her shoulder. He was about to kick her again when the doors slammed open. As the guards pulled him back, he put up a fight, shouting so loudly his voice became horse.
“Your father killed me!” He shouted over the voices of the guards, struggling to wrench himself free. “He killed my unborn child!”
Memory saw a flicker of deep sadness shine in his dark eyes, but was soon replaced with pure, intense hatred.
Actually, it was more like loathing.
“I’ll get you!” He cried. “I’LL KILL YOU ALL!”
He choked out a cry, and with a final tug the guards had pulled him out of the restaurant, locking his hands into a set of cuffs. The last guard took a crying Lilyana away.
What just happened?
“Are you sure you don’t want to go to a hospital?”
“I’m fine.” Prince Cassian bit out, clearly in pain as Memory dabbed a wet towel at his lip. He leaned away, and was he…whining?
“Sissy.” Memory snarled, annoyed when he turned his face away again. She threw the towel to the ground, exasperated. “That was a horrible thing to do.”
“It was your idea.”
Memory sighed. “I know. That’s why I feel bad. So let me help you.”
Prince Cassian slid away from her, afraid. The two were back in the hotel, and after Kendall Banks had been taken to the police station, the Prince and Memory–being royalty–were allowed back home. Or in this case, their temporary sanctuary.
“I’ll call Alexa, then. She’s good at this kind of thing.” Memory told him, standing up and stretching. Her abdomen hurt once more, a large bruise stretching from her neck to her belly button turning an ugly purple. She was about to leave when a sudden thought struck her.
“What…what did he mean?”
Prince Cassian looked up, daintily dabbing a tissue on the corner of his mouth.
“When he said your dad killed his unborn child?” She clarified, and Prince Cassian froze, eyes darting to the floor.
“I…I do not know.”
They were quiet for some time. Memory shuffled back and forth, wondering if it would be counterintuitive to leave the man to his own devices, especially bruised and scratched as he was.
And the porcelain doll named Cassian Eastcote breaks. She thought wryly.
“Yeah…I’ll be in my room.” She said timidly, before the silence she thought they needed stretched into something more awkward. But it wasn’t her that interrupted the silence. The phone buzzing in her pocket did.
“Hello?”
There was a cry on the other end. “Jade, Jade, oh Jade! Where is your brother? I’ve been trying to reach him for hours!”
“Tsavorite?” Her aunt sounded shaken, almost scared. Definitely not like the composed woman she knew. “Sorry, Cassian’s phone broke–”
Tsavorite shouted incoherently, leading Prince Cassian to stand up and lean unbearably close to Memory in an effort to hear what was going on. Miffed, Memory put it on speaker.
“Tsavorite! Please, I can’t understand–”
The woman on the other end began to sob heavily, and Prince Cassian took a deep breath.
“Lady Tsavorite. Is everything alright?”
There was a short pause as Memory and her ‘brother’ waited patiently.
“His majesty–he, he’s been coughing up blood!”
Chapter 13
The news of the king being sick was enough to send everyone over the edge. There was a constant stream of maids running back and forth, and when Prince Cassian and Memory arrived earlier than expected (they’d wanted to stay in Clithorp to interrogate Kendall Banks, legally, but were forced to put the Prince’s top workers in place instead), there was a crowd struggling to pass through the palace gates, almost trampling each other over with their clunky cameras.
Tsavorite, as expected, was in tears, Zoisite was confused, and Chrysander stood around awkwardly as his clingy fiancé tried to get him to talk. He didn’t even utter a word.
They didn’t even notice how the right side of Prince Cassian’s face was completely swollen, or how Memory limped around with a hunched back as she tried to breathe properly.
No broken bones, at least.
Even Diana was out of it.
“What happened?” Memory implored.
The head maid was far too frazzled to pay heed to Memory’s question, and it was when Memory yanked the broom from her shaking hands that the woman looked up.
“Princess?”
“What’s going on?”
Diana sighed softly, glancing at Prince Cassian and back at Memory.
“I, I don’t know.” She replied, and Memory leapt at the chance to grab another maid and pull her aside. The young girl looked shaken. After minutes of awkward silence, Prince Cassian managed to make her talk.
“I don’t know exactly what happened, your highness.” The maid said apologetically, bowing. “Lady Tourmaline was delivering dinner to his majesty and he began to cough until he fainted.”
The tip of her fingers gently caressed her lower lip.
Coughing up…blood?
It came as a surprise when Beryl requested her presence the next day, and of course, Emerald was nowhere to be around. Memory bristled at being thought of as a second-choice, but obliged anyway, knowing this was the primary reason she’d come here regardless of all the chaos that had been going on.
Her summoning was sudden, though. She hoped the tumult of wild curls on her head wouldn’t bother Queen Beryl too much.
The phone she carried around buzzed, and Memory cast a cursory look at the gadget–it was Lulu, and much to her shock, a list of thirteen missed calls from the girl. Promising herself to call back later, she entered Queen Beryl’s quarters, heaving a sigh.
“Er–your highness?”
The old woman had gained at least a dozen wrinkles. Her face was like a shriveled prune. There was a large machine next to the bed, connecting to her arms by thin tubes and needles.
She’s not going to last much longer.
Queen Beryl took deep breaths, her small eyes following Memory’s every move. It only made her more nervous, and she almost tripped over her own two feet.
“My…my son…” Queen Beryl breathed painfully. Spit pooled onto her lips and a maid rushed forth, dabbing a handkerchief on the Queen’s lips and dashing away as fast as she’d come. “Is he…?”
“Oh! King Darius?” Memory hesitated to s
it, wary of her ‘grandmother’s’ sick condition. “He’s okay. I think. The country’s best doctors are here so don’t worry.”
“No.”
Memory coughed. “No?”
“He…he is not a good man, Jade.”
Shocked couldn’t begin to describe Memory. She was rendered speechless.
“This family…this family will crumble.” Queen Beryl said sadly, her bony hands shaking. “They’ve tried to cover up everything but there are always records, always–”
“Always what?” Memory croaked. “What happened? King Darius–he’s your son, you can’t–”
“I’ve failed.” Queen Beryl whispered, and suddenly her body writhed in pain. Her eyes froze as tears pooled onto her cheeks, and her arms and legs twisted painfully.
Memory screamed. The maids pulled her back, yelling for help.
“It’s okay!” One told her in a soothing voice. “She’s okay. It happens often.”
Regardless, Memory left the room shaking.
That night, Memory paced back and forth in trepidation. What was going on? Was King Darius okay? What about Kendall, what about the hullaballoo with him?
“Diana, could you call my brother for me? He’s not picking up his phone.”
Diana broke into a small smile. “I assume Prince Cassian?”
“Yeah, when do I ever talk to Prince Edward?” Memory said, twiddling her thumbs nervously. She stared out the window, the dark sky finally overtaking the hues of light the setting sun was emanating.
“You two are rather close.”
“Thank you, Diana, for that lovely observation.” She bit sarcastically. “Now where is he?”
“He left, my dear.”
“What?” Memory jumped. “Now? Why?”
Diana grimaced. “He leaves every year on the night before the twenty–fourth of October.”
“But…what about King Darius? And Queen Beryl–she’s getting worse.” For Memory, it was an emergency. She needed to talk to Prince Cassian right away; and what she meant by right away was she meant this instant or else she’d have a meltdown of epic proportions.
“His highness is near the outskirts of the city, visiting your mother.” Diana told her, ignoring all her questions.
The Liars Page 17
