The Liars

by Hashmi, Heraa

  “Prince Quincy.” Memory shivered, wishing profusely that she had brought a jacket. “I kinda wish I’d seen him in person. He was actually adorable.”

  Magazine clippings of the little boy Viletta kept in her room popped into Memory’s head. How old had Prince Cassian’s half brother been? One? Two? She squinted, trying to read the markings on the gravestone but she couldn’t make out the numbers.

  “Pity.”

  “How did he die? Was it murder?”

  Prince Cassian sighed. “No, far from it. His body was found in the horse stables.”

  “You’re kidding!” Memory cried. “How?”

  “Of course, you will find no evidence in the stables. It was quickly torn down and rebuilt within two days.”

  “That’s horrible! I can’t imagine…” Okay, so maybe she felt a little bit of pity for Queen Pearl. Just a little bit.

  They passed the little boy’s grave with Memory swiftly changing the subject.

  “Did you find out anything about Kendall?”

  Prince Cassian let out a long breath. “I have not thought about it.”

  “Not even the ‘killed my unborn child’ thing?”

  “You believe him?”

  “Well…” Memory didn’t want to answer it without sounding like she absolutely hated his father. Which she did. But she didn’t need another reason for Prince Cassian to be annoyed. “Maybe he was telling the truth? I’m just saying it’s a possibility.”

  “I would know if my father had done anything of the sort!” Prince Cassian snapped back, as expected.

  “Would you now? Did you know about the tunnels, then?”

  “…That is a different issue.”

  Memory rolled her eyes. “My point is, it’s good to look at all perspectives. Analyze every detail before making a judgment. That’s what you’re good at, right?”

  “All perspectives? This is from the girl who loathes everyone with a drop of royal blood.” He shot back.

  “I thought we just established that I can actually like some people?” Memory pointed out. “We’re both really narrow–minded. I was wrong. I admit it. But if Kendall really was the thief, you might want to figure out why. Just saying.”

  There was a long stretch of silence as the Prince presumably contemplated her advice. He finally gave in.

  “Alright. He will not be released any time soon, though.”

  “Of course not, not with damaging the Prince’s handsome face and all.” Memory said absently, before freezing as she could hear him cackle.

  “Handsome?”

  She scowled; glad he couldn’t see the blush that was probably blooming across her cheeks. “Kidding.”

  “Of course.”

  “I mean it.” She shoved him, glad when he stumbled backwards and knocked into a tree. A harsh breeze blew by, and the heels she wore didn’t help at all as she crashed into him.

  “Idiot.” She muttered, stepping away like he was the plague.

  “Clumsy.” He retorted.

  “Moron.”

  “Petty.”

  “Petty? I am most definitely not petty.” Memory rubbed the soles of her feet, pulling the heels off. She couldn’t see, but she was pretty sure she had just added another collection of bruises to her body.

  “I see you have picked up on palace speech.” Prince Cassian observed, putting his hands out and trying to find her in the dark. One of his hands fell on her back near her shoulder, and she hissed.

  “My shoulder. Kendall kicked it.”

  “Sorry.” Prince Cassian pried the ostentatious heels from her hands and pulled her along by the arm. His touch was cold and she shivered again.

  “What time is it?” She asked, yawning. She hadn’t slept well in days, and who knew why she was still here when she could’ve gone home and slept her worries away.

  “Almost four thirty.” He replied. “You may take your leave.”

  She would’ve whooped in happiness if she had the energy. “Thanks. What about you?”

  “I will leave at six. I have a meeting with father’s associates.”

  Memory looked scandalized. “And you’re just going to stay up? You already look like a raccoon!”

  …That came out wrong.

  She thought she heard a choke. Scared, she tried to move so she could face him, but much to her surprise, he laughed.

  Full on laughed.

  It wasn’t like a mere chuckle rumbling in his chest, like he normally expressed amusement.

  Memory freaked out.

  “See, this is what happens when you become sleep–deprived.” She said, slowly moving away from him.

  As far as she could see, his dark silhouette was still bent over, clutching his stomach. Her statement couldn’t have been that funny!

  While she tried to frown, the edges of her lips twitched upwards of their own accord.

  He should laugh more often.

  His laughing finally died down to a fit of hiccups, and then heavy breathing. Memory didn’t know what to say, still completely shocked by the incident. So she went with the obvious.

  “You laughed.”

  “Yes.” He deadpanned.

  “You never laugh.”

  “I have never had a reason to.”

  She pointed a finger at him. “I just called you a raccoon!”

  “You called me handsome earlier, so I am not in a position to complain.” He explained smoothly.

  “I did not.” She protested, but it sounded weak even to her. “Besides, there are probably enough girls around to blow up your ego. You don’t need to me to compliment you.”

  “Would you agree or disagree with them, then?”

  Memory evaded the question with one of her own. “Are you trying to fish for a compliment?”

  He caught onto her tactic, unfortunately. “Why are you answering my question with a question?”

  “Because you’re stupid.”

  “I thought I was a raccoon?”

  “I said you look like a raccoon, not that you are one.” Memory paused, finding the conversation–bantering–pointless. “Why is this even a problem? We should be focusing on the fact that you are not superman, and therefore, need to sleep once in a while.”

  “Super who?”

  “Never mind.” The royal family, obviously, had issues understanding references to pop culture. Or anything fun for that matter. “Can’t you call your driver? You could sleep in the car.”

  He denied the suggestion. “He is scheduled to pick me up at five fifteen, sharp. It is not necessary.”

  Sighing, she stumbled around in the dark until she caught onto his arm. “My limo is still here. I’m not leaving until you are.”

  He conceded, however reluctantly. “Half an hour. That is it.”

  She held onto him until they left the grounds. The limo was waiting at the roadside, and the pair climbed in. Memory didn’t bother to ask Alexa to turn on the lights, as she heard the labored breathing of the Prince as he collapsed onto the seat.

  “Oh!” Alexa exclaimed softly. “His highness! Should we go home?”

  “No, he’s going to be picked up from here.” Memory gave her a small smile. “Thank you for waiting. You must be really tired too.”

  “Not at all, Princess.” Alexa nodded, climbing into the seat behind her. “But for him to sleep in such a cramped place…”

  Cramped? Dude, Lulu’s bedroom is this size. And my room is smaller.

  Memory grabbed his crown and joined Alexa in the back, pulling up to screen to give him privacy. She ignored the maid’s appalled expression.

  “I’ve slept in worse places. Like a well.” Memory scrunched her nose. “And under the stands at a county fair. And…” She almost smiled, the memories flooding back.

  Somehow, unsurprisingly, Memory had fallen asleep. On Alexa, nonetheless, but the maid didn’t mind at all. In fact, when she woke up, she apologized countless times about how uncomfortable her lap must have been.

  “No, of course not!” M
emory smiled sheepishly, noticing the bright light of the sun outside. Prince Cassian’s crown was also gone. “Did my brother leave?”

  “Yes, promptly at five fifteen. It’s eight o’clock right now.” Alexa smoothed her dress down. “We didn’t know if you wanted to leave, but didn’t want to wake you either…”

  Memory’s heart sunk at the fact that Prince Cassian had left without saying good–bye, but was glad she’d gotten some sleep. She thanked Alexa and asked Robert to drive back to the palace.

  And promptly took another nap.

  Chrysander was near the gates, galloping around on his horse as a rage–faced Myron followed behind. The boy threw insult after insult at her ‘uncle’ and didn’t stop even when Memory jumped out of the car, not being able to wait until the vehicle was back in the garage.

  “Is Prince Cassian back from his meeting?” She demanded, and Chrysander slowed to a stop, grinning.

  “Hello to you too, Princess. Up early, I see.”

  “Yeah, hi. Is Prince Cassian–”

  “No, not yet.” Chrysander glanced at his watch. “He should be home soon. Oh, and Elliot is looking for you.”

  Memory blinked. “Me? He’s looking for me?”

  Chrysander nodded, not happy at the prospect. “Stay away from him, I tell you.”

  “He’s harmless, Uncle.” Memory said, sticking her tongue out at Myron when he gave her the ‘finger’ for absolutely no reason.

  “Don’t call me Uncle!” Chrysander stroked his goatee. “Makes me seem old. And Myron!” Myron, who was still making faces at Memory from behind him, snapped to attention. “Respect the Princess, or I’ll see to it that you never joust again. Understood?”

  Myron nodded, and Memory cackled. Served him right.

  Elliot was at the fountain, another book in his hands. If Memory had known he was an avid book reader from before, she would’ve stocked up on all the books possible. There was no way she could hold a conversation with him about books, and was forced to approach him with the only other thing she knew he liked–horses.

  “Did you know Prince Quincy’s dead body was found in the stables?”

  Elliot wasn’t surprised that she’d suddenly popped up behind him.

  Dang it. Does everyone at the palace have a super sense or something?

  “Hello, Lady Jade.”

  Memory pouted. “Hello to you too. Did you know about Prince Quincy?”

  “Yes.” Elliot nodded, turning the page of his book. It wasn’t in a language Memory recognized. “Enjoying your newfound freedom?”

  “Freedom? Oh, yes. Prince Edward let me go.” She coughed. “Of course, it’s sad that King Darius, you know, sort of, passed out.”

  “Hm.”

  “I heard you were looking for me?” Memory asked, hoping the answer was yes. Excitement bubbled in her chest. It was like butterflies were fluttering in her stomach.

  “Yes.” Elliot finally snapped his book shut. “Would you like to go for a ride?”

  “Oh come on. Do you even have to ask?”

  If she was still suffering from lack of sleep, it had completely been swept away the moment she swung onto Julian’s back.

  Memory never had a hobby until now. She never had the time to figure out what she enjoyed doing. Sure, she’d done sports here and there for the duration of her high school career, but none particularly appealed to her. And after that was a laundry list of activities–taking care of Lulu, work, dealing with Bryan’s antics, homework–so any minute she could spare was spent sleeping, not doing anything she enjoyed.

  But horseback riding…

  It was like she’d been set free. Her hair whipped her face, her legs ached after long rides, but nothing was comparable to the elation she felt when speeding into the fields, watching the world blur by.

  Screw my political science major. I’m going equestrianism.

  Her thoughts were disrupted when Elliot rode up to her, a silent challenge. She leaned forward, whispering compliments to Julian as though he was a person and smiling widely when he sped up, galloping past the East Wing and towards the garage. Memory glanced back at Elliot, grinning, but then her attention was turned to the flood of cars entering the palace grounds.

  One of the cars (limos, to be more precise) Memory recognized to be Prince Cassian’s. She completely forgot about Elliot as she rushed forward, waiting until he stepped out of the garage. She waved at him.

  “Hey!”

  He paused, and a fond sort of expression lit his features. He excused the group of guards following him as Memory approached him.

  “How was the meeting?”

  “Excruciating.” His stomach rumbled loudly, and Memory laughed.

  “Now you’re starving yourself too?”

  “I have a large appetite.”

  “That’s really hard to believe.”

  “I must go eat, then.” He grimaced as Elliot caught up with her.

  “Your highness.” Elliot greeted, and Memory was surprised to feel slightly annoyed by his presence.

  “Elliot.” Prince Cassian nodded back. “I will leave you two be, then.”

  “Wait!” Memory hopped off the horse, and joined Prince Cassian. “I’ll come with you. Sorry Elliot, maybe tomorrow?”

  Elliot blinked, nodding as he took the hold of Julian’s reigns and led both Irma and Julian back to the stables. Prince Cassian scoffed.

  “Do you have an abysmal need to follow me around?”

  “Haha. And why so grumpy?” Memory held open the door for him and they entered the hall. “Did the meeting go badly?”

  “That is putting it lightly.” Prince Cassian rubbed his forehead, nodding to a maid when they entered the dining hall. It was too early for lunch, but Memory didn’t see anything wrong with having chocolate mousse as a pre–lunch snack.

  “I’m surprised you’re not eating in your room like you usually do.” Memory commented, sighing in delight when the mousse touched her lips. It was so good!

  “There is nothing to do, actually.”

  Skeptical, pinched the bridge of her nose. “Really?”

  “Nothing of immediate importance.” Prince Cassian amended, ordering a plate of something called fois gras. With horror she realized that it was a liver. Of a duck.

  She mentally gagged.

  “I suggest holding a napkin to your mouth.” Prince Cassian said absently, twirling his fork.

  “Huh?”

  “Manners, Jade.”

  “Oh.” Memory gagged again, but held a napkin up to her mouth as he said, pretending to dab her lips clean. She didn’t look at him until he finished, and was staring at her with a smirk.

  “What?”

  “I have trouble believing you have not found out what you have been eating these past few months.”

  She tilted her head, tapping her chin. “The foods for the most part is good. Like the shrimp and lobster and the funky looking round stuff.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Caviar?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Fish eggs.”

  White wouldn’t begin to describe Memory’s pallor. She clasped a hand around her throat and squeaked. And Prince Cassian was grinning. Grinning.

  The bastard.

  “Anything else you would like to add, Jade?”

  “Um.” Memory, still reeling from the fact that she’d been eating fish eggs as a snack more than once a week, jumped. What had she wanted to talk about? Oh, yes. “Are there records in the palace?”

  Prince Cassian clasped his hands together and set them on the table. “What sort of records?”

  “Queen Beryl…she said that King Darius…” Memory frowned. Could she tell him about what Queen Beryl had said? It’s not like Memory herself had said something bad about the King. But somehow, she didn’t think it would settle well with the Prince, especially after how well they’d gotten along for the past couple days.

  “She said there were records.” Memory amended. “She wanted me to look for them, I think
.”

  Prince Cassian frowned. “You have to be more specific, Jade. Financial records, family history, visiting records…there are even records of every royal family member’s shoe size.”

  “Huh. Maybe I’ll just talk to her again.”

  “Good.” Prince Cassian stood up. “Her health is deteriorating.”

  “I know. I hope she’s okay.” Memory breathed deeply, recalling the woman’s words. This family would crumble?

  That didn’t sound too good.

  The Queen was unavailable. As in, no one was allowed to see her. In addition to the doctors surrounding the West Wing, the top floor of the East Wing was teeming with doctors.

  “That bad?” Memory questioned, and a short doctor with a limp nodded. “Can’t we transport her to the nearest hospital?”

  “All the best doctors are here.” The doctor answered rudely. “No need.”

  “When can I see her?”

  “When she gets better. Now I suggest you move, your highness.”

  Memory huffed but thanked the doctor anyway. Now, if she could just figure out what Queen Beryl was saying and leave the palace for good, that would be great.

  The problem was, she wanted to leave, but at the same time didn’t.

  And oh, Elliot. Who she would leave behind and never see again. Guilt washed over her like a waterfall. How could she do that to him? To everyone else in the palace? It wasn’t fair for Diana to cry over Jade again. How could she have been stupid enough to let herself get so attached to the palace?

  As Memory returned to her room, she watched three small figures walk around outside her window. The redhead was recognizable for miles, and so was Tourmaline, and the short persons accompanying them was no doubt Zoisite. The little girl would be heartbroken.

  But there was no other option. The only alternative was telling the truth, and that was something she couldn’t afford to do and risk her life over.

  “Why am I so stupid?” Memory asked herself. She slapped her forehead repeatedly, cursing herself. Three days. Three whole days and then there was nothing to be afraid of. The world would be hers.

  Her phone rung, a reminder that she had a responsibility to return to back home.