Well, Memory wasn’t about to argue with that. Maybe she could sell it and get a couple thousand right there, too.
But then, she gave Prince Cassian the stink-eye.
“What do you want?”
He gave a look of complete innocence. “What do you mean?”
“You’re not nice. I mean, you don’t just give presents to random people pretending to be your sister.” She waved her hands around. “There’s gotta be a reason you’re bribing me.”
He chuckled heartily, raking a finger across the top of the crown sitting on his desk. He lifted it with utmost care, his hands hovering above Memory’s head.
“Do you trust me?”
There was a long pause as she stared up at his hands, and by extension, the crown.
“Is this a trick question?”
“No.” Prince Cassian lowered his hands, and Memory bowed her head as he rested the crown carefully on top of her head.
It was lighter than she expected. Like a feather.
“I hate to request this, but…” His hands fell to his sides, “I need a few more weeks.”
Memory’s heart sunk. “Are you…”
“I need you to stay a bit longer than initially planned.” He explained, almost in shame. Memory couldn’t believe her ears.
“His majesty wants to show his daughter to the world, the media is growing suspicious, and especially with the discovery that the real Jade is–” His voice cracked. “As of now, we’re treading on thin ice. Queen Beryl is on the brink of death. We can’t stop now, not after Zoisite’s party. Just a few more weeks, and then I can stage an accident or something–”
The rage in her eyes couldn’t be concealed.
“No.” She said shakily. “I can’t. I’m leaving tomorrow, and that’s that.”
“You can’t! Not after we’ve worked so hard, not after we find Kendall Banks–”
“The family heirloom was found!” Memory shouted at him, trying to blink back tears. He stepped away in shock. “What more do you want from me?”
“Please–”
“Is this some sort of joke to you?” A tear rolled down her cheek and she wiped it away, gnashing her teeth together. “I promised three months, and that’s it! I even helped you when you asked!”
Prince Cassian held up his hands, as if he was afraid she’d hit him.
“I promise, I’ll find your mother.”
“It’s not about that anymore!” Memory shouted. “You don’t understand do you?”
His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “It’s only a few more weeks. I thought you would’ve liked staying in a palace longer, since you’ll never have the opportunity again.”
She snarled at him. The workload had cost him his sanity, it seemed. “Don’t assume you know everything! You don’t know me–”
“Memory.”
“Did you know Tourmaline has a daughter?!” It slipped out without Memory realizing it. “Did you know Kendall Banks is the father? That she was helping him along, that she wants us all to–”
His eyes hardened. “Memory, what are you saying?”
“Don’t look at me like that!” Memory shrieked in a crazed voice. “I’m not the enemy here, Tourmaline is, she–”
His churlish behavior hadn’t shown in many days. “I will not tolerate you speaking about my family in that tone–“
The argument escalated, and as a last resort, Memory shoved him, hoping that hitting his head would knock some sense into him.
“I don’t trust you. Not one bit. Why should I when you never listen to me?”
Prince Cassian wiped his forehead. “Have you ever given me a reason too?”
Memory wrapped a hand around her throat, tasting blood on her tongue. “She probably poisoned him!” She said, eyes wide. “It makes sense! I heard it with my own ears. She and Chrysander–“
“MEMORY!” He bellowed. “Shut up with this nonsense. I will compensate you for the extra days. And after that I highly recommend checking into a mental institution.”
She grasped the crown on her head tightly and yanked it off. It clattered to the ground.
“You can’t solve everything with money.” Lifting her eyes to look at him, she pinned him with a disappointed stare. “I used to think that way. But I was wrong. I thought you’d realized too.”
She tore through the room, yanking open the doors with a clang. She didn’t even watch his butler’s confused look.
She brushed past him, hiding her eyes. Hot, salty tears had begun to pool in every crevice on her face.
She had never cried so hard in her life.
There was nowhere to go, nowhere that was devoid of any people. So Memory barreled into her room, swung the bookcase heavily and entered the tunnel, uncaring that Diana and the other maids had probably seen. She kept moving, hoping the stream of tears would stop. Though she tried to keep her sobs down to a minimum, they echoed loudly in the tunnel.
It was only her luck when someone shone a light onto her face.
“Jade?” It was Chrysander.
Memory gulped and hit the side wall, sliding to the ground.
“Goodness, I’ve been trying to reach you all morning. The head maid, though, is oddly scary with a broomstick so I didn’t dare breach the second floor.” His attempt at humor only made her choke on her words.
“Please go.” She said shakily. “You can yell at me later. I’m not in the mood.” No matter how hard she tried to sound normal, she didn’t think she managed to cover up the pain in her voice.
Chrysander lifted the light so it was in her eyes. She shut them tight as he breathed softly.
“You’re crying.” He stated, gawking a bit.
She wiped her eyes. “No, I’m not.” The crack in her voice gave her away.
He sighed, pulling her up from the ground.
“I’ve had my fair share of maidens crying on my shoulder. Go ahead, I won’t be upset.” He joked, gesturing to his shoulder. Memory shook her head.
“It’s nothing.”
“It must be if my niece, of all people, is crying.”
“I’m not crying.”
Chrysander laughed. “Then I suppose the dust in the tunnel just got in your eyes, then?”
“Yeah.” Memory agreed, but it was forced. Chrysander peered at her closely.
“Please tell me. I won’t let you leave until you do.” To further enforce his point, he took hold of her arm and dragged her along the tunnel.
“Is it your foster family?” He guessed. “Do you miss your old friends? Do you not like it here?”
Memory couldn’t tell him how right he was. It only made her heart hurt even more.
“I hate it here.” She admitted. “I want to leave but I can’t.”
Chrysander sighed, but didn’t say anything.”
“I can’t breathe!” Memory felt like there was a lump in her throat, literally. “Every day, I feel like I’m drowning.”
“Being a princess comes with its downfalls.” Chrysander said quietly once the wave of weeping subsided. Memory shook her head.
“But why am I here?” She gritted out. “Why should I stay? To be eye candy? Is that what being a princess is?”
“Being a princess…” Chrysander started, maneuvering her towards the right when they hit a dead end. “…is different than being a prince. I loathe admitting it, but that is exceptionally true here. Many other families have changed, but my brother loves his traditions too much.”
“But even then, a princess holds a beacon of light for the country.” Chrysander let go of Memory’s arms and stuffed his hands in his pocket after handing his phone to her. “She’s a role model. She is the mother of the country, she is a problem solver.”
Memory let out a long breath. The holder of that burden had died long ago, now leaving a fake with it.
I need to get out of here.
Prince Cassian’s uncle was still talking, his voice barely heard over the turmoil of her thoughts.
“My mother, actually, was one of
the best diplomats of her generation.”
Memory stopped him from blabbering on an on by holding up a hand. “Chrysander, about Tourmaline…”
A pile of dirt stopped them in their tracks, and he kicked it away.
“Did she say anything to you?”
Unable to meet his eyes, she turned away. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have overheard. I was just angry and confused.”
He sighed. “I apologize, I must have frightened you. I did not want to yell at you.”
That revelation didn’t come with relief. In fact, Memory looked at him askance.
“Really?” She asked with trepidation.
To her befuddlement, he nodded. He’d certainly sounded angry.
“Again, I did not mean to sound so…harsh. But our conversation should have been kept between the two of us.”
“Sorry.”
Chrysander sighed. “I beg of you, please keep this to yourself. You haven’t told anyone, have you?”
Memory feigned eloquence to hide her embarrassment. “No, of course not. And I will keep it a secret if…if you answer this question.”
There was a slight pause, but then he nodded.
“Anything.”
“Is Kendall Banks the father?”
He nodded again. And then stepped back, shocked.
“How–”
“Kendall Banks is the thief.” Memory murmured. “He got help from her, didn’t he?”
“What? No!” Chrysander shook his head furiously. “Despite all her faults, Tourmaline would never–”
“How do you know that for sure?” Memory demanded, “Who else would have a reason? Tell me, is she the one who poisoned the King too? Because he kicked her lover out?”
His face went white with perspiration. “Jade! That’s an accusation of treason!” He was thunderstruck.
Words failed her. It all fit, how could he not understand? Prince Cassian was an idiot, but Chrysander too?
Her ‘uncle’ gripped her shoulder tightly, and she mewled in pain. He immediately let go.
“Jade. Listen to me.” Chrysander leveled his gaze. “Tourmaline would do no such thing. She’s not cunning or manipulative. That conversation you overheard when hiding all those weeks back–she was asking for me to help her see her daughter. She hasn’t left the palace grounds in eight years, since she gave birth to her daughter.”
“Still–” Memory insisted.
“You hate it here. But please, try to see what is really there instead of what you want to see.” Chrysander pleaded, and it was hard not to concede. “I was the only who knew along with the King. There’s nothing I can do to help her but she still asks me every day. Fortunately, my brother is against disowning his own sister but she still has no position in the palace. She wouldn’t dare do such a thing as to poison him.”
Memory looked at her feet. “Isn’t she angry at him though? She hasn’t seen her daughter in years. And he kicked Kendall out too–”
“Jade,” Chrysander started, “He wasn’t kicked out because Tourmaline bore his son. It was long before that.”
Memory let out a long breath.
“Then why? Why is this all happening?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I just recently got news that he escaped from prison.”
“He had to have help from the inside, from here!”
“Tourmaline didn’t do it.” He told her firmly. “She has nothing to do with this except for the fact that he is her daughter’s father.”
Memory grabbed her hair, on the brink of insanity.
“Then the poison! The thief! How did he know about the tunnels? Nothing makes any sense at all–”
“There’s no connection between the events. You’re trying too hard.” Chrysander insisted again. “If it assures you, check the visiting records, check with Tourmaline herself. It was not her.”
Her eyes widened.
Records.
The library was grand. There were books up on shelves as high as the vaulted ceiling itself. The shelves were made of dark mahogany, and were polished so bright that it hurt to look at them.
Memory had never stepped foot in the library with the exception of the brief tour she’d been given when she’d arrived. If she had the heart to come earlier, she probably would’ve spent the majority of time in here. Not because she liked to read, but because Elliot did.
That wasn’t what she was here for, though.
Queen Beryl knew about Tourmaline’s daughter. It would’ve been easier to ask her directly, but the woman was practically dead.
Diana, who was following her, prodded her incessantly.
“Princess, are you alright? Did you see his highness?”
Memory closed her eyes tightly, not wanting to think about that right now. She was going to leave soon, and the least she could do was prove she was right.
“Where are the visiting records?” She asked, and Diana put her hands on her hips.
“Are you going to do this instead of studying, Princess? I read your report on the import of trade, and ‘the stupidity of using silk instead of cotton in the summer’ does not count as an analysis.”
Memory climbed up the spiraling stairs, letting her fingertips graze across the spines of the books. The higher she went, the dustier they were. She coughed as a dust cloud flew into her face.
“You’re still sick, dear.” Diana said kindly, and Memory turned to her and painfully gritted out;
“Visiting. Records.”
“Yes yes, of course.” She started going back down, stopping midway on the stairs and pointing at a shelf.
“Most records are kept on the computers, but the public ones are printed out and bound into a book.” Diana pulled out a tome at least five inches thick. It looked brown at first until Diana wiped the spine to reveal a lovely shade of blue.
“The books are updated once every five years.”
“Just out of curiosity,” Memory started, taking hold of the tome. It was heavier than expected. “Why do they keep these records? Is it because of the girls–can’t–leave–the–palace thing?”
Diana shook her head. “They have done this since the beginning of the monarchy itself. It’s quite useful for the King, since he’s always going in and out of so many places. Nobody else ever reads those, though.” She pointed to the shelf, which had at least twenty volumes.
Memory stared at the book in her hands. “Can I access the online ones?”
“No.”
“Great. Which one covers the records of eight years ago? Or maybe fifteen?”
Diana pursed her lips, and then indicating volume numbers eighteen and nineteen.
“Anything else, Princess?”
“No, but thanks.” Memory motioned her away, but Diana was unwilling to leave. Sighing, the two settled onto the seating area in the corner of the library as Memory pried the eighteenth volume open.
She didn’t know what she was expecting, but certainly not a day–by–day record of who left and who entered the palace.
Days in which balls were held had a list that was at least four pages long. And on normal days (which had no visitors or balls), there was a laundry list of names, especially King Darius. Chrysander’s name was written a couple times, accompanying his brother to places like France and Japan, but seeing as he was thirteen at the time, Memory didn’t expect him to leave the palace often.
She also saw the names of Tsavorite and Tourmaline quite often, especially if it had Clithorp in the same sentence. Tsavorite, despite being married and having another home, visited the palace and went on trips with her siblings a lot. It looked like the imprisonment hadn’t started yet. Even Queen Beryl was sometimes visiting exotic places.
And finally, she found what she was looking for. On March 4th fifteen years ago, the Viviste family visited. Six months later, Kendall Banks left but the rest of the family stayed. Memory assumed that was when he was disowned.
No doubt about it. But still, what happened?
And after that, Me
mory no longer saw any recognizable names. There was one day when Tsavorite left for Clithorp and then came back, but for the next year, Memory couldn’t spot her or Tourmaline’s name anywhere.
So the prohibition on leaving started around the same time Kendall was disowned.
She switched to the next volume, flipping through to go eight years back. Kendall Banks name never appeared, even when his family member’s did. But as she hit nine years ago, she pinpointed a date which confused her even further.
July fifteenth, Tsavorite Jackson arrives at the palace from the Jackson Estate.
July sixteenth. Tsavorite Jackson and Tourmaline Eastcote receive permission and leave for Clithorp.
July thirtieth, they return.
Nine years ago. Memory slapped her head. The two, or at least Tourmaline, must’ve visited Kendall. That’s when Lilyana was conceived, she decided.
She skipped to nine months later, and there it was, Tourmaline’s name etched into the paper. She’d left for Clithorp and returned merely four days later.
Memory put her head in her hands.
Nothing made sense.
“Diana, I need to visit Tourmaline.”
Diana’s eyebrows shot into her receding hairline.
“Tourmaline?” She said hesitantly, as if she didn’t hear properly the first time.
“Yeah. I’ll be back soon.”
Diana was skeptical but left, leaving Memory to her devices.
Her eyes were red and bleary by the time she approached Tourmaline’s door. She supposed she should’ve kept a guard or two (possibly ten) around her but she was at rock–bottom low, and confronting Tourmaline seemed to be the best idea.
I’m right. I’m right. I have to be right.
But Memory had severely underestimated the power of her ‘aunt’s’ voice.
“You little–” She fumed, “It was none of your business, none!”
Memory pinched her nose at the strong perfume she wore.
“Are you going to try and kill me again?”
“Kill you?” Tourmaline laughed but it sounded like an eagle screeching. “Oh no, I’m going to tear you apart, limb by limb, until you wish you’d never returned.”
Memory bit her lip, trying to hide her anger at this woman. “But then you’ll never see your daughter.”
The Liars Page 22
