Memory's Wake (15 page)

Three matching slim, raven-haired handmaidens arrived, introducing themselves with a row of curtseys.

Memory puffed a breath into her hair, thankful for the interruption. No one had been eager to speculate on her attempt at magic, and an awkward silence had grown long. Roen grinned at the ladies, and Saoirse and Lily chased him from the room with a spree of flirtatious giggling.

The handmaidens turned straight to fawning over Eloryn and Memory took the chance to slip into the bathroom.

It practically glowed blue. Above an aquamarine tub a brass showerhead shone like a small sun with two decorative taps like stars beneath. Memory glared at it, wondering what exactly was so amazing about a shower.

Memory struggled out of her dress and left it in a pile in the corner, tucking her knife out of sight underneath for safe keeping. Stepping gingerly across the cold tiles and into the tub, Memory spun the hot tap and a stream of steaming water soon sprayed down on her. It was a blessed relief to wash away the stink of the previous day. Showers were a luxury after all.

With a deep sigh and forced physical effort, Memory turned the shower off. As the sound of running water echoed away down the drain, she heard faint knocking from beyond. Not the bathroom door; the entrance door perhaps. No other sounds came from the main room, and the knocking persisted.

She wrapped a towel around her dripping torso, her hair still running dye-tinted streams down her back. Peeking out the bathroom door she saw the main room empty. Not sure what should be done, she tiptoed across the room and opened the entrance door just a crack.

Roen greeted her with a markedly amused expression. “I only wonder how you would have appeared had I knocked a moment earlier.”

Memory dripped water into the carpet and tried to hide her embarrassment. “No one else was around to answer the door.”

“I do hope this is what you’re intending to wear to the ball. It’s quite striking.”

Memory smiled, hating that she couldn’t hold it back. “You’re not entirely dressed up yourself.”

He wore the same simple shirt as before, its fine, nearly translucent silk overlaid with a plain and elegant satin coat in embroidered silver. It made his unkempt hair even more golden.

“Well, it’d be a crime to hide this face.” He leant close to where she stood in the partly opened doorway.

“Is this how you talk to all girls?”
Except Eloryn,
she thought.

Roen looked both ashamed and audacious as he smiled back.

“And, it works for you?” Memory made herself sound so unimpressed that Roen actually looked hurt for a moment before she couldn’t help but smile at him again. But by the time she did, Roen’s eyes were elsewhere.

Memory turned to see Eloryn had emerged from the side chamber, fully dressed and done up. She looked like a porcelain doll, hair curled and pinned up on top of her head in ringlets of shining ivory. A silken gold dress clung around her bust and dropped in simple, shimmering waves.

Memory slumped
. I hope the mask that goes with that covers a lot of her face. Although I doubt any man will be looking at her face.

“Does it not suit me?” Eloryn sounded nervous. Memory realized both she and Roen had been gawking at her since she walked in, albeit probably thinking different things.

Roen, dumbstruck for the first time Memory had seen, detached himself from the doorframe and straightened up as though about to speak, but said nothing.

“You look fine,” Memory said, as kindly as she could manage.

Eloryn picked up the matching mask. It was quite large, after all – a butterfly design of filigree silver and gold that would cover most of her face.

The handmaidens buzzed back into the room and clucked when they saw Memory standing at the door with Roen, wet and wearing only a towel. Clarice, eldest of the three with a beauty mark that Memory didn’t believe was real, walked right up to her and stared at her face judgmentally.

“There was no one else to answer the door!” Memory blurted.

“The jewels in your face; it will be easier when we begin your make up if you can remove them. Also, you may want to leave them out.” Surely she meant it as kind fashion advice, but it still sounded just a little catty.

Roen winked at Clarice, stepped in and closed the door behind him. Shrugging, she smirked back and nudged Memory across to the dresser next to where Eloryn had been seated again for final touches.

Memory nodded thankfully to Clarice and started removing the piercings. What did she know about fashion anyway? She felt like an ugly duckling, even damp enough to be one. At this point, she would do whatever she could to fit in.

Sharing the short upholstered stool in front of the dressing table mirror, Memory and Eloryn were flanked by handmaidens. Lily cooed over their shoulder, “What handsome sisters you are, so much alike.”

Memory snorted. The only thing they had in common was the color of their eyes, and even that Eloryn used to better advantage. But still, sitting together in front of a mirror, she could almost see what Lily meant. Both the same height, and without her black eye and swollen jaw line, her face looked a lot more delicate, like Eloryn’s. It was... eerie.

Eloryn’s skin had paled more than usual. She didn’t seem pleased by the comparison. In fact, she looked downright skittish. Memory bit her lip. Even with her fading dye job and bony figure, was it really that insulting a comparison? Maybe Memory did have a sister out there somewhere. She had to find her real family, one way or another.

Memory turned back to Roen, on edge again. “So why were you knocking the door down anyway?”

Roen had taken a seat on the bed. “Duke Lanval wishes to introduce us to his friend who has arrived. They are waiting for us.”

“The young lady is certainly not going anywhere until we have her dressed,” Clarice muttered.

Roen lowered his gaze, shifting it between Eloryn and Memory. “Truth is, Lady Memory is not invited to this meeting. I am to escort Lady Eloryn only.”

Memory paused half way into unscrewing her labret. She wasn’t sure why the news surprised her, or hurt, but it did both. She couldn’t even think of a valid reason to argue why she should be allowed to go. It had only been a matter of time before she was left behind. She looked to Eloryn, whose face showed a battle of emotions. When Eloryn saw Memory watching her she turned quickly away. Memory dragged out her last piercing and faux pouted at Roen. “I guess I’ll have to entertain myself then.”

“There will be plenty of entertainment at the feast. Some fun will do you well, and perhaps you will recognize someone? I’ll even owe you a dance,” Roen said, half smiling apologetically.

Saoirse finished tying Eloryn’s mask into place around her elaborate hair-do and the three handmaidens turned their full attention to Memory. She shot Roen a look of terror as they backed her into the side room. He laughed in response and the door closed between them.

A range of ball gowns and accessories had been laid out to choose from. Despite her natural aversion to dresses, Memory actually got excited when she saw one, all black, amongst the pile of colorful gowns on offer. She picked it without hesitation.

The maids gossiped about people Memory didn’t know while they approached her with the mounds of black fabric. Memory stood shivering, and just closed her eyes and tried not to wince as they went about their work lacing, tucking and stitching the dress into form. When they were done, Memory had to admit she felt a little bit kick ass. The dress was hot. Bodice all black lace over black satin, tight and low cut, only just high enough to cover the scar in the centre of her chest. The multi layered skirts combined both rolling ruffles and translucent gauze. Maybe in this, even next to Eloryn, she could be considered a beauty.

Directed back into the main room, Memory found Roen and Eloryn were gone.
They didn’t even say goodbye before going to their fancy nobles-only meeting.
Memory coughed a short, insulted laugh. She wondered what part Roen had there, other than being there for the Princess. Who would be there for her in this big, unfamiliar castle?

Memory sat in front of the previously mobile dressing table. The handmaidens stood back discussing options with pinched mouths then got to work. For all that there were only three of them, at times Memory felt like there were a dozen hands on her, poking and primping. They managed to pull her hair up into an ornate design that made it look like she had twice the hair she did. Her face was pinched and painted. She tried, between bursts of powder, to tell them to keep the make-up simple, worried about receiving stray beauty marks. Clarice tsked, but followed her wishes. When they were done, Memory looked at herself a moment then smiled an approval to them. As they turned away to gather up the unselected dresses, Memory grabbed a remaining kohl brush and added more black around her eyes.

“My lady, some guests are already gathering in the northern grounds. If you’re happy with your presentation, we will take our leave. We’ll have your clothes taken to the laundry so they will be fresh for you tomorrow.”

Memory nodded thanks to them all, relieved that they were done with her before she remembered something. “Oh, just a moment!” Memory said, dashing into the bathroom. She grabbed her knife from under the pile of filthy dresses and slipped it down the secure front of her corset. No matter what it was for, the knife somehow made her feel better. She wanted to keep it close. She smiled at Lily who followed her in, and returned to the main chamber to find the others gone.

The remaining gowns and accessories had been taken and only a pair of crystal encrusted slippers remained.

Memory looked longingly for a moment at her sneakers, then grabbed the sparkling shoes and tugged them on. At least they weren’t heels. Her stomach rolled with a tide of hunger and she focused on one word. Feast. If there was food out there somewhere, that is where she would go, even alone.

Memory picked up the mask that matched her dress, hurriedly tying its ribbons behind her head. She stepped out the entrance door and through the thin eyes of her mask the hallway seemed to stretch endlessly in either direction.

Lily caught up to her, laundry tied in a neat bundle on one hip. “Do you not know the way?”

Memory winced a no.

“Just down the hall that way. A left, down two floors, a right at the Duke’s portrait, then out past the water channels, through the archway and into the grounds. You’ll have no trouble.” She bobbed a short curtsey and headed the other way up the hall.

Memory stood still a moment longer, repeating the instructions in her head while they were still fresh. She headed off at a brisk pace, mouth already watering at the idea of long missed sustenance.

A left, a right, oh hell. Left or right again?
Memory quickly got lost. She wandered down long corridors, stopping to ask directions at every person she passed. Finding what she assumed to be the Duke’s portrait, she smiled, glad to be heading the right way.
Jolly looking fellow, would have been nice to meet you.
Finally she saw an archway ahead through a large entry hall. The corridor ran straight through it, becoming a bridge bordered by knee-high stone walls carved with flowers. Rectangular pools of water ran the length of the hall on either side, burbling with deep undercurrents. She slowed, exhausted from the shallow breaths the corset forced her to take.

Out through the archway, the path led Memory into an emerald green paradise. Tall, well-trimmed hedges looped around the grounds, separating small and large areas full of flowers, statues and fruit trees. Running water sounded from everywhere. She could see, some way down the path, a large marquee posted amongst climbing roses and pine trees where people milled about. Looking back at the castle itself, Memory blew out a low whistle.
The place had goddamned towers.
The sun still shone, but dipped low. It had taken them some time to get ready, but she really must have slept most of the day for it to be this late. She had breakfast, lunch and dinner to make up for.

Part way down the path she froze, sure she had heard Eloryn’s voice. Looking around, she couldn’t see anyone down the long path to the grand tent. To both her sides, hedges stood tall and thick. But then there was Roen’s voice too. She walked soft-footed, trying to trace them.

Soon she stood with her ear up against a hedge. They were on the other side of it, talking in hushed voices. What were they doing out here? They were supposed to be at their exclusive meeting. Had they lied to her? Betrayal burned in Memory, and she stilled herself to listen in.

“...your concern. It was right of you to mention this in private,” Roen was saying.

“You see it too, the resemblance between us? I don’t want to think it, but it explains too much.” Eloryn sounded scared.

“I know she is strange in ways, but she hardly seems malevolent.”

Memory sucked in her breath.
They’re talking about me.

“I’ve told you how she appeared, caught within the Veil door. What if she did not come from Avall?”

“There is no human land beyond the Veil anymore. There is only Avall, and the land of the fae. You don’t think she is some type of fae?”

Feet shuffled. “A fairy changeling? I wondered so when we first met, but I shared bread with her and fae won’t abide bread.”