Memory's Wake Omnibus: The Complete Illustrated YA Fantasy Series (53 page)

After receiving a note from Memory to meet with her, Roen waited in the private gardens of the palace, pacing near the entrance to the hedge maze. It had been freshly trimmed and the rich grassy smell of the cut leaves brought back memories of his early childhood in his family’s estate, playing in the garden with his brothers. He didn’t know why she’d ask to meet there, of all places, but his thoughts were too occupied to care. He ran through wordings for his apology in his mind over and over. He hated that Memory had seen him behave so venomously. Seeing his brother had unleashed years of pent-up rage. He couldn’t believe that Dylan had the audacity to speak with the princess, after everything he had done. It made his blood boil, and he had projected some of that onto Memory. Words could never undo that, but he had to let her know how sorry he was.

Some staff arrived, putting out a table with placements for high tea. He approached, thinking it was for his meeting with Memory, when Eloryn and one of her suitors appeared, trailed by a procession of guards. Roen ducked back behind a hedge as the couple made their way up the path and took seats at the table.

Memory…
Roen knew that she must have set him up to see this. Was she punishing him, making him be a spectator to Eloryn’s courtship?

Watching from within the entrance to the hedge maze, Roen wondered how he could get away without being seen. The maze itself only had a single entry and exit, and if he stepped out he’d surely be noticed. He had to stay, and he couldn’t stop himself from spying.

Servants in formal dress and white gloves solemnly poured tea from silver teapots. Roen found small comfort that Eloryn didn’t appear to be enjoying the other man’s company. He was tall, and fairly good looking, but he controlled the conversation in a way that left few gaps for Eloryn to speak. His arms swung in grand gestures that came close to knocking over the tall tower of cakes, and he laughed frequently at his own jokes.

As Roen watched he saw Eloryn move from tolerance at the banality of her companion to pure boredom. Fake smiles of humor became commonplace and pained.

When her partner stood up to enact some anecdote, faux fencing and barely paying attention to Eloryn, she reached a hand to her chest. Her fingers grasped at something, and she looked longingly into her palm before squeezing her hand closed.

Around something small, green, a pendant the color of her eyes.

Is this what Memory meant for me to see?

Roen’s heart split. He knew he owed Memory a heartfelt thank you along with his apology for what she had tried to do for him, but the outcome for him brought only pain.

Staying here in the palace, so he could at least be near Eloryn, if never being with her, had only been tolerable on the notion that it was merely him whom would suffer. He had assumed that Eloryn didn’t have feelings for him. But having seen this, the hint that she may feel the same for him — he couldn’t cope. He would have to leave.

Memory waited at the foot of the palace steps for a carriage to be prepared. Now they were being allowed out of the palace again, she was desperate to go and visit her shelter. Maeve had been sending her updates, but Memory hadn’t been to see them since before the bombing.

It had taken her all morning to find a suitable dress to wear. She was nervous and all her fancy gowns seemed too over the top for visiting the homeless. Clara set out on the mission and had returned not long after lunch with a simple day gown of charcoal-colored linen, with only a modest bustle and long, fitted sleeves.

Memory wondered how Roen was enjoying her little trick with Eloryn. It made her nervous too, but she couldn’t help meddling. The two of them were silly over each other. Eloryn had been dutifully, mournfully, working through her list of suitors, but Memory had flat out refused to go on any dates.

How long did it take for them to get a damn carriage out here? Are they building one from scratch?
Memory rubbed her hands which felt shaky. Thick, low clouds were keeping the world blanketed and warm, so she couldn’t blame the cold. It felt like everything that had happened recently kept building inside her, wringing her emotions. She needed some kind of emotional holiday, but wasn’t sure how.

Memory heard someone walk down the stairway behind her. “Is standing on the steps your new pastime, your highness?”

She turned and saw Dylan. “Call me H… Mem, please.”

She eyed him warily. The time they’d spent together in the library had been fun, but it was clear how Roen felt about him. Yet he kept showing up, and Memory couldn’t say she hated that. “What are you doing here?”

Dylan gestured back at the palace. “I live here.”

Memory raised her eyebrows and Dylan chuckled. “I’ve just moved into a guestroom, temporarily.”

Memory’s eyebrows rose further. “You’re staying in the castle? Is that wise, with how Roen feels about you?”

Dylan hopped down two steps below her, so they were the same height. “It is my foolishness either way. I requested to be able to take a room here in order to reconcile with my family before they return to our lands. Once they’re back home, I doubt they will open their doors to me.”

A carriage rolled up in front of them. “Finally.”

“It was lovely to speak with you again, Mem.” Dylan bowed to her and began walking back up the steps.

“Do you,” Memory started talking before she thought it through.
Too late now, spit it out.
“Do you want to come into the city with me?”

A handsome grin split across Dylan’s face. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Three guards had been waiting with Memory to escort her into town. Dylan lifted his chin at them, which they seemed to take as a signal they weren’t needed anymore.

Typical, like I’m safe as long as I have a man around to look after me.

Dylan took her hand and helped her up into the carriage then sat beside her on the same seat.

“Where are we heading?” he asked.

The carriage started rolling, the gravel of the driveway grumbling beneath them. “I’m going in to visit my homeless shelter. Sorry, it probably won’t be very interesting for you.”

“If it’s interesting for you, I’m sure it will also be for me. Although I don’t for the life of me know what a homeless shelter is.”

Memory rolled her eyes. People in Avall just didn’t seem to understand dealing with poverty. Maybe it was their prosperous history that left them so unprepared. “Well, you take homeless people, and you shelter them. It’s pretty simple really.” Memory sighed and looked out the window at passing terrace houses. “Actually it’s not that simple at all. I was so focused on these poor little orphans, right? I wanted to help the kids, but then I realized how many more people there were who needed help. So the shelter is turning into a bit of a training school as well. Not only does it give a home to the orphans, it’s giving jobs to a lot of other people who’ve lost their way. There’s so much to be done, from repairing the building, to cleaning and cooking, and if they don’t know how to do it, I have to find people to teach them.”

Dylan whistled like he was impressed. “Where do you get the funds for this?”

“Pawn shops mostly,” Memory laughed. “Also asking a lot of favors. Most of my servants work there instead of in my chambers, and a few other people I know are helping out.” Peirs was enlisted straight away after Hayes fired him. Memory trusted Peirs. She liked him from the moment he made a pun about how she defeated Thayl. His dismissal from captain of the guard came at a good time for her when she’d become torn about how to run the shelter. She wanted to let everyone in, to help everyone, but kept getting scared someone would abuse her trust somehow. She worried so much for the kids in her care. The amount of responsibility terrified her, so Peirs was there to make sure everyone was safe.

The carriage stopped, and Memory was about to jump out when Dylan moved first so he could help her down. She took his hand, but it felt odd when she could get out of the carriage fine herself.

The building Memory had purchased for her project was huge, if old and dilapidated. Four stories tall, it had once been an inn, so it had the perfect layout for her needs. Memory had bought it only seeing the plans and a sketch of the front, and seeing it now made her smile. Its architecture was of an older style than many buildings around it. Made of gray bricks with diamond shaped windows and pointy gothic features, it had an imposing presence. Stepping inside, Memory was pleased to see how the place was cleaning up.

A skinny girl with brown hair so long, curly, and thick it seemed larger than her body, jogged up to them, holding layers of old skirts out of the way of her legs.

Memory lifted her hand in a fist, and the girl bumped it with her own. “Yo, Maeve, this is Dylan.”

“Good day to you,” she said, holding up her fist.

Dylan lifted his up as well and laughed when she bumped it. “Is this some kind of secret handshake?”

Maeve just winked at Memory. “Would you like the grand tour?”

“Why yes indeed,” Memory said and linked her arm around Maeve’s.

Dylan followed close behind as Maeve showed them the building. Lots of kids came out to watch them pass, and some ran up, just to touch Memory’s hand briefly then run away again. Memory was pleased to see they were happy, their rooms clean, and some of them putting on weight.

“You’re a hero to them,” Dylan said.

“She’s done a fantastic job, sir,” Maeve agreed.

Memory blew a raspberry. “Nah, my money is the hero here.”

“Not at all.” Maeve directed them through the kitchens. A cook offered Memory some food, but for some reason she didn’t feel hungry so she declined.

Maeve pointed out some women who were learning from one of the palace chefs. “It’s more than just money. The way you’re able to come up with ideas about how to help us. It’s almost like you know this world, these troubles. Nobody else in Avall knows how to help us, but you seem to understand.”

Dylan looked at Memory with pride. “She spends her time studying such matters.”

Memory just shrugged. Their praise made her feel awkward.
Coming from a group home myself helps too. From what little I remember.

Maeve slowed her pace and let go of Memory’s arm. She gripped her hands together nervously. “I’m afraid I have some bad news for you, though. There have been some of the orphans leave us.”

“Don’t they like it here? Is something wrong?”

“No, it’s more like… they just vanish. We aren’t sure where. Peirs has men looking. Maybe they are leaving to go somewhere else, but I thought I’d bring it to your attention, especially since Edele is among them, and I know you were fond of her.”

Memory reached for the bracelet she still wore. “Edele? Little Edele is gone?”

Maeve nodded. She looked far more worried than she was saying.

Memory spent the rest of the afternoon talking with the guests at her shelter, from youngest to oldest, to Peirs and the staff from the palace. No one seemed to know where people were going or why. No one had any idea where Edele had gone. She was only six, where could she have gone? Memory refused to consider all the alternatives. She couldn’t bear to lose a single person more from her life or discover those in her care weren’t safe.

Dylan waited patiently as she made her rounds, but it was clear he’d become tired of the place. Memory also grew frustrated with the lack of information and the worry that lacking caused. It was dark by the time she gave up and apologetically told Dylan they could leave.

The carriage waited for them on the street just outside, but Dylan took Memory’s hand, holding her back. “It’s a beautiful night, let’s walk a little. You look like you need to relax a bit.”

“So obvious?” Memory let him lead her by the hand along the cobbled pavement. It had rained while they were inside, and the stones glistened in the light of the streetlamps. The lamps seemed to have wisp lights in them, and Memory wondered whose job it was to come along and behest them all each night.

“I hope it is not too forward of me to say, but on a night such as this, your skin is comparable to the moon,” he said while keeping a straight face.

“Gray and full of craters?” Memory laughed. Dylan winced.
Aw, the poor boy was trying so hard.

He stopped and twirled her around to face him.

“I picked this for you.” Dylan revealed a single red rose bud, which he handed to Memory. She had no idea where he had been keeping it. Maybe he had some qualities in common with his brother.

“Nice trick,” she said, sniffing the flower because she thought it was the polite thing to do. It didn’t have any fragrance.

“Do you like magic?” he asked.

“Complicated question. Let’s just say yes for now.”

Dylan bent forward and Memory tensed, thinking he might kiss her. Instead, he whispered a few words of a behest to the rose and the bud spread and bloomed, its petals unfurling large and silky.

Memory gaped. “You’re good with magic, aren’t you? It’s funny. I’ve never seen Roen do anything like what you can do.”

Dylan seemed disheartened that his trick resulted in a discussion about his brother. “You don’t know? My brother is the seventh son of a seventh son. It means that he has no Spark of Connection at all. My father, knowing rumors of the curse and that he was already a seventh son and had six of his own, never intended to have Roen. It’s sad, really. The Faerbaird lineage is actually quite strong in magic.”

Now she thought of it, not once had Memory ever seen Roen use magic, but she never realized that he outright couldn’t. “He’s never said.”

“Well, he wouldn’t. It is his most shameful secret.”

Maybe not his most shameful,
Memory thought, considering how Roen felt about his thieving skills. Memory felt a strange burst of pride for Roen with the way he lived and coped, without any magic at all, with the prejudice that must come with that. And to have known his parents never meant to have him for that reason, and be left as the last son they had, all their wanted children dead or gone. No wonder Roen was angry at Dylan for abandoning them. Memory shook her head internally at herself.
No, Roen’s parents love him no matter what. I can see it.
They were proud of him for how he looked after them despite his handicap, just as she was. She wished Roen could feel that pride, too.

Dylan offered Memory his hand again, drawing her from her thoughts. “If comparisons to the moon do not please you, then let me compare you to that rose, although the rose will surely come off second best.”

Memory rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the bashful smile that appeared. Over Dylan’s shoulder, in a shadow of a building up ahead, Memory noticed Hope, watching. Memory caught her eye and tilted her head.
Should I?

Hope gave a distinct nod.

Memory took Dylan’s hand.

The shelter was near the center of town, and Dylan walked with her over a stone bridge into the bustling nightlife street. Revelers ambled by and cats stalked in the light fog that rolled along the ground. They came to Beyond the Veil, the pub Memory had been to before, where she and Will had made a scene when he’d come to her defense. Despite the trouble caused, Memory missed the days when he’d come to her defense. Times when he’d see her at all. She didn’t even know if he was still around and the thought that he might have gone away made her stomach roll.