Memory felt her legs twist painfully as she was thrown over the guard’s shoulder like a sack of flour. She pounded her fists against his back, but it only hurt her hands.
She strained to look up. The crowd of people had dispersed, and there were sirens blaring everywhere. Memory saw a mob forming around a beefy–looking man with handcuffs. He was shoved into one of the police cars, and there was no doubt about it.
It was Kendall Banks.
“Please, let me go, LET ME GO!” Her animalistic cry was ignored in favor of Prince Cassian’s orders.
They were in the ballroom along with businessmen, businesswoman, and royalty from around the world. Many were injured only slightly, but were tended to nevertheless.
“The man responsible for this will serve life in prison, I assure you.” He said in a rush, eyes darting back and forth nervously. His lips twitched. “Prince Edward will be alright, he is being looked after by only the very best.”
Protests broke out among the crowd, fancy words being thrown here and there. Memory couldn’t recognize a single person, and tried to wring free of the guard’s grip but was too weak and exhausted to even move a step.
“I do not know the details. But please, remain calm.” He bowed and rushed around the ballroom, avoiding the questions launched at him. Memory watched with dirt and tear filled eyes, screaming for freedom.
Prince Cassian stopped ten feet away, eyes wide.
“I do not have time for this.” She heard him mutter, but she shouted so loudly that he had no choice but to listen.
“I told you!” She said, before raising her voice another octave. “I TOLD YOU!”
Prince Cassian whipped towards her, gnashing his teeth together painfully. “Jade–”
“LISTEN TO ME!” Her lungs squeezed every last breath out of her. “WHY DIDN’T YOU LISTEN TO ME? I TOLD YOU, BUT NO. YOU CAN’T DO ANYTHING BEFORE MAKING SURE EVERY SINGLE FREAKING DETAIL IS TRUE–”
The guard holding her loosened his grip from the volume of her voice. She was screaming herself dry.
“AND NOW YOUR FATHER IS DEAD. DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU DO TO ME?” Her throat burned. “I HATE YOU, CASSIAN EASTCOTE. I HATE YOU!”
She cried, sobbing on the last note. Her emotions broke like a dam, and Prince Cassian’s eyes lit up with absolute loathing.
Memory should’ve been careful. She’d jumped into this blazing inferno without a thought spared for her life. And now she was entangled so much there was no hope for escape.
Ever.
And then she saw him step back, almost limping. His composure cracked for a millisecond, and in that millisecond, in a moment of surprising clarity, Memory saw everything.
She saw guilt.
“You run away for days, and decide to come back on your brother’s coronation?”
Memory’s only response was to keep her eyes shut. A warm, motherly hand held hers.
“I know you’re awake, dear.”
Memory forced her breathing to steady. Where was Lulu? Oh god, was she safe?
Lulu, please be safe. I’m coming for you.
Her phone buzzed. Memory twitched.
“There’s no use in pretending to be asleep now, your highness.”
A small sigh escaped her lips. Memory grasped her phone and turned it on silent. She then turned to see Diana sitting on a chair next to her, stroking her head.
“Do me a favor and please do not run away like that again.” She sighed, setting her hands in her lap. “Prince Cassian was right. He said you needed some time alone, to think things through.” When Memory didn’t respond, she sighed. “He ordered no search for you to be done. But you even disconnected your phone, dear, and took no one with you. Most reckless thing I’ve ever seen someone do, Princess.”
Lulu, I need to find you.
“Are you listening? Would you like me to get you a glass of water, Princess?” Diana paused. “Your eyes. They are…grey.”
Memory shut her eyes again. Her throat felt like someone had lit it on fire and burned it to ashes. She couldn’t move her tongue, and her lungs pained her with every breath she took.
Her silence disappointed the older woman. She tried to jump up and simply run out of the room that used to be hers in the palace, but she could barely sit up. There was no way she could escape the clutches of the palace in this condition.
“Master Elliot is still sick.”
Grunting, Memory rolled over, hoping it would alleviate the pain in her lungs. In, out, in, out, she breathed.
“Princess–”
“Enough, Diana!”
It didn’t come out as loud as she wanted it to, but had the same effect. Diana was effectively silenced.
Memory sighed into her pillow. “I need to go.” She attempted to croak, but it sounded like a guttural cry more than anything.
“Don’t leave. It’s dangerous out there!” The head maid exclaimed when she noticed Memory trying to move. She put a hand in front of her but Memory pushed her away.
The nightstand next to her bed helped her balance on her feet, but she swayed back and forth, confused as to whether she was spinning or the world around her had decided to dance.
That’s an odd way of putting it. She thought wryly.
The doors to the balcony were only a few feet away, and she lunged for the doorknob. She fell but grabbed it in time, steadying herself.
Her balcony faced the outside of the palace, unfortunately. She couldn’t see anything but a large expanse of grass outside and the stables from the corner of her eye.
“Diana,” She started in a raspy voice, and the maid rushed up to her, “Take me to the study.”
Her words were garbled beyond belief but Memory lifted a weak hand to the study area. Confused but unable to do anything but obey, Diana pulled her along, leading her slowly to her desk.
Memory flung herself onto the bookcase. And ignored the gasps from the head maid as it spun around, suddenly plunging her into darkness.
Her phone rang again, and Memory held it up to her ear with weak hands. It was Lulu, riddled with fear.
“Memory–Memory, can you hear me? I’m at central park–they won’t let me go any further. Where are you?” There was shouting in the background, but thankfully Lulu’s voice was still clear as ice.
Memory couldn’t respond as she stumbled along the walls of the tunnel, trying to find some semblance of familiarity.
A sharp object swiped her hands away and her phone fell to the ground. Memory screeched a throaty tenor.
“Oh, Jade! I thought you were someone else.” Light illuminated the sudden face that had appeared. “Jade? You–you are home!”
Memory looked up through her eyelashes and saw a tear streaked Tsavorite. She tried to answer the woman but it hurt too much to.
“Goodness, I can’t begin to fathom what just–someone tried to kill Prince Edward and–you were gone and no one knew where you were–” The woman began to cry, her mascara running down her cheeks in terrifying black streaks. As she blubbered, Memory breathed slowly, feeling sorry for Tsavorite but unable to comfort her. Lulu was more important.
She attempted to trudge by but Tsavorite held onto her tightly.
“Are you leaving again?” Her voice broke. Memory paused for a minute but then gave her a quick nod.
“Please don’t go. I don’t know how much more I can take.”
Memory shut her eyes tightly and yanked away. She leaned against the dirt wall, breathing through her mouth so dust wouldn’t clog up in her nose.
It was when she was ten yards down, near a fork, when she realized she’d forgotten her cell phone. Too late to go back, Memory searched for an exit, confused as to where she was. Was the dining hall painting exit further up, or to the right?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a ring of light, about fifty feet away. As she got closer she saw an opening above, and could see a swinging chandelier in the ceiling of the room she’d come across.
It took her four tries to swing up
successfully. Her legs were like jelly–it took minutes at a time to move them in the direction she wanted.
She climbed through the hole and rolled onto the carpet flooring. A floor tile sat next to her, but Memory didn’t have the heart to push it into place. Whoever this room belonged to, they had forgotten to close the entrance to the secret passageways.
The room’s elegant decorations and fragrance reminded her of someone, but she couldn’t exactly pinpoint who. It wasn’t until she came across the lounge when she realized it belonged to Tsavorite. Or used to. The woman had probably gone back to the Jackson Estate after Zoisite’s party but returned to the palace for the coronation, as evident by the suitcases lines up along the wall.
It looked like everything had been done in a rush. There was a tea spill on the coffee table, and was still dripping down the sides of the table only to further soak the carpet. The bed was unmade, which could be attributed to the maids (the poor girls had enough to do), and dresses that were laid out on the floor in front of the closet.
Memory felt bad about sneaking around the room, seeing as how her last attempt to poke her nose in someone else’s business ended badly, but as she retreated into the tunnels, a silver glint caught her eye. At first, she thought it was a crown, or maybe some item of clothing, but as she crawled closer, she realized it was a vial of metallic–looking liquid.
Science project, eh?
Memory picked it up, glancing at it curiously, but when coughs wracked her body, she set it down.
Underneath the vial was a set of pictures. After the coughs died away, Memory glanced at them in a passing, curiosity sated, but then saw that it was a picture of her.
And Lulu.
She closed her eyes tightly and opened them again, but it was still there. Her fingers shook as she picked up the picture, tracing her finger across her sister’s face.
It was a picture of them sitting at the café, with Kyle standing behind them. It had been taken through the window, as evident by the glint around Memory’s face, but there was no doubt about it. It was definitely her and Lulu.
Worry creeping up her throat, Memory grabbed the next few pictures, her fingers leaving oily prints on each one. A photo of her and Prince Cassian hugging outside the hotel, one she recognized from the tabloids. It had been taken over three months ago.
There was another–of her and Prince Cassian dressed in swimsuits on the beach of Clithorp. One of her crouching over Elliot as his head bled after saving her from the horses. One of Prince Quincy–whom Memory had never seen in real life, but unmistakably recognized–sitting in the stables and playing with Julian. And the next one was the same scene, but with Prince Quincy lying on the ground, blood on his lips. There was a picture of a little girl, gagged and tied up as she was stuffed into the back of a van.
Jade. When she was kidnapped.
Her breathing labored. The last picture was of a dead body. The real Jade’s dead body. Her limbs were twisted painfully but a serene smile on her face, like she was just sitting on the beach and enjoying the view.
Her heart was caught in her throat. She tried to scream but none came.
As she stared at the last picture, Martin’s words hit her like a wave. There was no way it was possible.
Cavorting around with married women. Married. Tourmaline never had anything to do with Kendall Bank’s disownment because she was never married.
Her eyes turned to the vial of silver liquid on the desk. The hairs on her neck stood up as she heard a cold voice from behind her speak.
“How unlucky you are…Memory.”
She’d had the wrong aunt all along.
Chapter 17
Her laugh still twinkled with innocence, but this time, Memory could hear the anger underneath it all.
“Don’t be so surprised. Anyone with half a brain could tell you are a fake.”
How had her voice changed so much? Wasn’t it just minutes ago when she’d run into her, crying and pleading?
This wasn’t the Tsavorite she knew.
Or maybe I never knew her at all.
Memory snatched the vial from the desk and threw it onto the ground. It smashed into smithereens.
“Poison.” Memory choked out, acutely aware of the implications.
Tsavorite scrunched her small nose, lifting her eyes to look at Memory directly.
“That was my last vial.”
“How could you?” She whispered raucously. It sounded like incoherent garble but she knew Tsavorite would understand. “Your own brother!”
She stood like a dear in the headlights. Could she call for the guards? Her eyes darted towards the opened tile that Tsavorite had just crawled out of, and then the door at the far end of the room.
Tsavorite noticed and an evil grin spread over her face.
“Don’t try running.” She threatened, and pulled her hands out from behind her back.
A gun.
Was this how betrayal felt like? Memory didn’t know whether to cry or lash out at the woman and smash her head into the table.
“You poisoned Elliot.” Memory swallowed. “YOU POISONED HIM!”
Yelling was a stretch for her lungs, and dry coughs wracked her body once more. Tsavorite pointed the gun upwards and shot. Dry plaster sprinkled onto the ground.
“The next one is you.”
Memory fell back against the desk. Her body felt like it had been turned to ice, thin fragile ice. She couldn’t feel her hands or legs. Her heart weighed on her chest, crushing her.
“You really don’t get it, do you?” Tsavorite snarled at her, twirling the gun in her hands. “What did you think palace life would be? Daisies and roses? Did you think you could come in and be a pretty little princess?”
Unable to move at all, Memory followed Tsavorite with her eyes as she swiped the pictures from her desk and shoved them into the nearest suitcase.
“Of course I would poison that stupid idiot.” She harped, and when Memory tried to squeak she was rewarded with a slap. “He tried to strengthen the gates. My beloved Kendall couldn’t ever be stopped with just that, but I had to make sure.”
Tsavorite pulled out a knife and traced it tenderly along Memory’s neck. She squirmed, feeling the sharp blade cut into her flesh painfully. Tears pricked at her eyes.
“The King.” She cried. “Why him?”
The knife was pulled back as Tsavorite swung her head back, laughing.
“Why him? Oh, the reasons, the reasons.” She twirled around, cackling. “Fifteen years ago, he killed my child.”
Memory was instantly reminded of Kendall’s words. “Unborn?”
“Yes. The man I thought was intelligent,” She spat, “thought it would be a good idea to confront his parents and ask for permission to marry me. His majesty found out soon enough and banished him.”
And killed your unborn child. When Memory looked at her, Tsavorite bristled.
“Don’t look at me like that! You think the King is the victim?! That I deserved it for cheating on my husband?” She picked up the fallen tea cup from the coffee table and threw it towards her. Memory shuddered as it hit the desk and shards of glass showered upon her, one even embedding itself into her hands.
“He married me off at nineteen. Nineteen! And then after the entire ordeal, he thought that imprisoning me in my own home was a good idea?” Angry, she kicked over the table.
Memory had never seen her act so wildly.
“I never saw Kendall for six years. And when I did, my dear little sister, perfect like everyone thought she was, got pregnant by the same man I used to love.”
Two sisters fighting over a guy? Not good. Memory gulped, fearing for her life.
“And the coward forgot about me.” Tsavorite kicked the table again. “And his majesty? The halfwit always had a soft spot for Tourmaline. Locked her up in her room, and then sent her away to give birth.” She gritted her teeth together so painfully it made Memory wince. “As if that could change anything.”
“You do
n’t know what it did to me.” Tsavorite cackled. “Kendall had what was coming to him. If he couldn’t decide between me or her, then I would make him decide.”
All the things Memory hadn’t understood before made sense. She was the one that let him in through the tunnels, that asked him to steal the heirloom, that helped him escape prison and return so he could shoot Edward in the midst of the coronation–
Memory’s head burned.
“King–was–in–France.” She hissed through her cold lips. Tsavorite glanced down at her, lips contorted into a smile. Memory didn’t know how anyone could smile without warmth.
“Kendall wasn’t opposed to killing the man who banished him. The problem was, he didn’t want to go any further. But it wasn’t enough.” She started quietly, but every word echoed in the room. Her eyes darkened.
“His majesty killed me from the inside? I simply returned the favor. The poison hadn’t finished him off as quickly as I wanted it too, but in the meantime, I wondered if I could pull off killing his two children in his absence in addition to his other two.”
She grinned maniacally. Memory’s eyes snapped to the suitcase where the pictures were held.
“Jade…Prince Quincy…”
“Horses never liked me.” The repugnant woman lit up with glee. “They run at the sight of me. Ever since I hit Ruby on the head with a pot in front of them when I was little.”
Tsavorite was the reason why Ruby was the way she was?
“It wasn’t hard to get rid of the annoying little twit. With the upcoming nuptials, the King couldn’t tell his left from his right. It only took some convincing to have Jade wander around alone before she was snatched.” Tsavorite snapped. “Just like that. I almost thought I hadn’t succeeded when Prince Edward and Prince Cassian started looking for her. When I realized what the youngest prince was going to do, I had to keep tabs on him of course. Jade had already died. She would never come back.”
“And Prince Quincy? Oh, how lovely his skin looked in the moonlight as the methyl mercury took hold of him. But killing the eldest two sons–I had to wait until the perfect opportunity. His majesty already had his eye on me. I couldn’t simply poison them. No, shooting them for the world to see would be much more satisfying. And having someone else do the work for me and then be arrested? It was perfect.”
The Liars Page 26
