The Liars (12 page)

“Jade…”
Prince Cassian started as if addressing a child. “I think I would know if there was a secret passageway.”

“Would you? Would you now?” Memory looked up, having scanned the entire floor. “There has to be an entrance somewhere.” She looked back at him. “Fine. Keep hitting that door. Let’s see how far
you
get.”

That irritated him noticeably as he got down on the floor with her and started examining all the tiles.

“Are you sure it’s one of these?”

“The entrance to Chrysander’s room is a floor tile…” She quieted as she thought about it. The entrance didn’t necessarily have to be the floor, right? The painting was most definitely not on the floor.

She crossed her legs, scanning the row of cabinets, dishwashers, ovens, and sinks. There was at five of each with the exception of the cabinets that had an extra one in the corner.

Her hands and feet numbed as she crawled across the cold floor to the corner. She swung the door open and to her immense bewilderment, it was empty.

The cabinet was just enough to fit someone her size, and she knocked on the wood. An echo sounded from underneath, and Memory pried the bottom plate of wood away to reveal a hollow tunnel.

“Hey! Psycho, look what I found.”

Prince Cassian slid next to her, and his jaw dropped in astonishment. She smirked arrogantly.

“Hah, I knew something you didn’t.”

“Uncle–how could he not–” He was rendered breathless. Memory peered inside, wondering if he would fit.

“I wonder if brother knows…” He said, pushed her out of the way. “It doesn’t look too big.”

Memory recalled navigating the tunnels with her uncle. “It’s wide at some places and narrow at others. I’ll go first.” She held her dress and slipped into the hole, feet first. Prince Cassian held onto her other hand tightly until she felt her feet touch cold water. And then she felt the solid dirt ground.

“I’m good!” She called up to him. “There’s no light, though.”

She didn’t know if he responded, his yelling was inaudible. He disappeared momentarily but returned with a glowing stick in his hand.

Memory moved out of the way as he climbed down, heaving as he tried to squeeze through. At one point, he was stuck, and even in the dark she had to grab him around the waist and pull him down. He landed in the water
unceremoniously.

“Woops.” Memory said. “Must’ve forgotten to tell you about the water.”

He sighed. “No matter.” The light in his hand dimmed. “The kitchen uses LED lights.”

“You should’ve gotten more than one!”

He frowned. “I’m not going back up there.”

Memory huffed and yanked the light out of his hands. “Let’s go.”

“Do you even know where we’re going?”

She
rolled her eyes in a typical Memory-like fashion.

They had walked for nearly ten minutes until they hit a solid brick wall. There was a slit on the side where natural light was filtering through, and Memory ran her fingers between the slit. She felt a small switch and pressed it. The wall slid away easily.

Behind it was a coat rack. And a row of suitcases. To the right there was a set of double doors.

“Are we in a closet?” Memory asked, and immediately a hand was clasped around her mouth.

“Quiet.”
Prince Cassian said, holding her back. “I think we’re in the Guest Wing. Second floor.”

His hand was cold and tasted like butter. Memory nipped at his skin with her teeth and he jumped, biting his lip to
suppress a yell. She stuck her tongue out at him and slid the wall back just enough to shut it quickly if someone were to step into the closet.

“What now? We find a different exit?”

“No, it’s fine. Let’s see if there’s anyone here at the moment.”

Memory sighed.
“Who’s staying in this room anyway?

“I think…”
Prince Cassian thought hard, “This is one of the rooms where the Vivistes are staying. That,” He pointed to a large black suitcase, “Is Gilford Bank’s bag.”

“Gilford?”

“Son-in-law of Olivine Viviste. Father of Kendall, Martin, and Frederick.” He stared down at her. “Have you not finished your studies?”

She cringed.
“Can we please not talk about this right now?”

He shushed her when the door opened and two people stepped inside. They had their backs turned to them so Memory couldn’t see their faces.

“Are you sure it wasn’t–”

“I’m certain, father! He’s in Indonesia, how could he possibly be here?”

“It may very be possible, given your history, Martin.”

“Father!” The person sounded aghast. “I’d never–”

“You know that he no longer belongs to our family. I have sacrificed too much to be respected again. So did your mother. Do not dishonor her.”

“Like brother did? Cavorting around with married women?”

“We do not speak of him!”

Before Memory could hear anymore,
Prince Cassian pulled her back by the sleeve of her dress and swiftly shut the door. Memory whined.

“
Come on!”

“Eavesdropping. Not okay.”
Prince Cassian muttered. “Let’s go.”

“Wait, can’t you tell me what’s going on? Who were they talking about?”

“Jade, let’s go.” He said firmly, and even in the dim light, she could see the anger in his eyes. Danger was lurking.

She gulped. “Fine.”

The two ran forward and hit another wall, which thankfully, opened up to the drawing room in the Main Wing. Prince Cassian immediately called for the rest of the family, but it turned out that everything was in disarray.

“The family heirloom.” Tsavorite said in a rush. Her dress was splattered with food and her hair was one big ball of mush on her head. “It was stolen. After Ruby calmed down, the alarm went off. The glass was broken.”

Prince Cassian’s nostrils flared. “And the guards? Where the hell were the guards?!”

“Language, young man!” Chrysander gripped his shoulder. “We have enough yelling, quiet down–”

“Is Ruby okay?” Memory interrupted. “What happened?”

“Emerald said something horrid, and she got fired up.” Tsavorite sniffed
and wiped her nose. “Everything was a mess. We couldn’t find you.”

She was about to tell her about the
fiasco in the kitchen when Prince Cassian growled.

“Where. The. Hell. Was.
The. Staff?”

Tsavorite started to tear up. “No one was there. They…they’re all dead.”

Chapter 9

The palace was on lock down. All the guests were stopped from leaving and could only stay in the ballroom or the dining hall, the next biggest room.

Officers and investigators swarmed the area, and many of them seemed familiar with the place.

“They were here last month after Prince Quincy’s death.” Chrysander said as the two watched people run around wildly, trying to find some semblance of normality. “This is a disaster.”

“Prince Cassian and I were locked in the kitchen.” Memory said. “When Ruby had her tantrum, I saw him run away.”

“The kitchen?” Chrysander said with a confused look. She nodded in confirmation. “Now how would he–or she–
know about the locks? It’s not common knowledge. Many of the staff don’t know, even.”

“That’s what I’m wondering.” Memory admitted. She straightened up when one officer bowed and asked to speak with Chrysander alone. Minutes later, he came back, sweating heavily.

“Thirteen dead. The head chef, three maids, two butlers…”

Memory shuddered. “Where…where were they found?”

“All piled up outside the kitchen door. There’s a door leading from the left side of the Main Wing to the kitchen, you know. It gives the cooks quick access to the dumpster.”

Memory gagged, bending over. There were dead bodies mere feet away from her?

“Princess? I suggest you go inside. The remaining guards have swept all the rooms. It’s safe now.”

She shook her head wildly. “No. I’m staying. I want to know what happened.”

Chrysander gave her a pitiful look. “Alright. If you insist.” He was pulled away by a crying Zoisite, leaving Memory alone with her thoughts in turmoil.

Who was the thief? What had he wanted? She tried asking the officers if they knew, but none of them had found any evidence. Yet all the furniture in many rooms had been destroyed, like the person had been trying to find something,
and the family heirloom (which turned out to be an expensive crown that belonged to Grantham Eastcote) which was stored in the West Wing was missing. The thief had gotten past layers of security, and what was more, any security cameras in place had been shut off.

But the worst part came when the name of the dead arrived and on the list was the name ‘Jones
Malburry’. Memory ran back to her room and slept.

Didn’t cry, but slept.

She wasn’t allowed out of her room. Diana stood tall in front of the door, ordering Memory to take a shower and get studying. Three new security cameras had been installed, watching her every move. Even in her room.
Thankfully, they only pointed towards the middle, the lounge.

“It’s normally not done.” The head maid inhaled a shaky breath. “But it’s for your safety, darling.”

“Can I please leave, though? I need to talk to Prince Cassian.”

“I’m so sorry, dear.” Diana held up her hands. “I can’t do anything. And the three guards standing outside this door will hardly listen.”

Condemned to her fate, Memory did as ordered and took a long bath. She thought about Jones, whom she heard had a wife and two little kids living in the next city over.

My life sucks, but this…this is crazy.

She thought about Lulu. Not having called her in a while, she emailed her, telling her to take care of herself and reminding her to work.

She thought about Elliot. He was an enigma, a mystery. Not see-through like Tourmaline or Emerald, and he seemed genuinely kind. At least he hadn’t been in the ballroom to witness the horrible happenings.

And then she wondered. The day before had been a crazy one to say the least, but was it a coincidence that it’d happened the same day the Vivistes had arrived?

I say no. I need to study.

The conversation she’d heard in the Guest Wing was suspicious. Highly suspicious. That put Gilford Banks, whoever the guy was, on her radar.
And he was the dad of the creepy guy she’d danced with, so that was even more suspicious.

Like
Prince Cassian said, Gilford was the son-in-law of Olivine Viviste, the half-sister of Ara. His wife, Rose, died in a car crash along with her brother and his wife.

He had three sons, which if Memory wanted to count the generations back, were her second cousins. Or Jade’s second cousins, but it was easier to think in terms of ‘I’.

Frederick, age sixteen, Martin, age twenty-three, and Kendall, age thirty-seven. Hm. I met Fred and Martin, both were creepy as hell.

She scrolled
the page down, looking for any interesting tidbit of information on the website. There was a picture of the family tree, but what was odd was that Kendall Bank’s name was slashed out. Confused, she looked him up, and with glee realized he was the one Gilford had been chastising his son about the night before.

Kendall Banks, it turned out, had been disowned almost fifteen years ago. No one had heard of him since, but Gilford certainly seemed to hate him if he told his other son that talking about him wasn’t allowed.

Something smells fishy. Really fishy.

After her momentary lapse in being bored, Diana left to fetch lunch. At that point, Memory rushed around her room, trying to find the secret entrance. If she couldn’t leave, then she was going to leave anyway.

None of the three paintings in her room had buttons on them. The flooring was completely solid, and there weren’t any cabinet openings in her bathroom. She returned to the study area, pouting, wondering when she could ask Chrysander more about the secret tunnels when she leaned against her bookcase. And it moved.

It spun and Memory moved with it, clutching her phone tightly in her hand. The bookcase stopped moving, lodging
itself back in place, and she was now facing a thin, dirt filled hall.

At least there’s no water.

There was a fork fifty meters down, one path that went downwards and another that turned to the right. Memory chose the first one, jogging down the steep hall. She examined her surroundings carefully, noticing how she was literally a fly on the wall.

Fly in the wall, actually. We wouldn’t have this if the people decided to make the walls normal sized, not abysmally thick. Then again, gold isn’t the stronger material to make walls from,
Memory mused as the path leveled out. There was a ladder built on the side leading to solid black tile above, which she suspected led to another room, possibly Chrysander’s, and had no qualms as she shoved it open and poked her head out.

“I apologize, but October twenty-fo
urth is not a suitable time. May I–JADE!”

Memory climbed out of the opening and rolled over, only to see
Prince Cassian standing above her with the papers he’d been holding moments earlier falling around them like leaves. He clutched his phone tightly.

“I apologize minister, I will call you back later.” He hung up and refused to acknowledge Memory, instead gathering all the papers he’d dropped.

Memory didn’t help him, instead sliding the floor tile back into place, standing up and looking around. “Whoa! Is this your room?”

The color scheme was a beautiful silver and midnight blue, and had the most elegant and modern furniture she’d ever seen. It was like stepping onto the set of a magazine cover.

A man stepped out of the study area, presumably the Prince’s butler, and blinked in confusion.

“Princess Jade?”

Prince Cassian groaned. “She snuck in here. Let the people upstairs know that she’s fine.” He ordered the butler to leave and then turned to face Memory. “What are you doing?”

“Sneaking around.” She grinned toothily. “Why was
Kendall Banks disowned, by the way?”

“I had an important call.”
Prince Cassian said smoothly, blatantly ignoring her sudden question about the Viviste–and in extension, the Banks–family.

“Sorry, then.” She rolled her eyes. “Could you please answer my question? I was looking–”

“I don’t have time for silly games. Jade, you need to focus.” Prince Cassian set the papers down on his desk. “Have you spoken with grandmother?”

“Twice, but she’s cold. Hard to talk to. But about the Banks family–”

“That’s what you came here for. Do whatever you have to do, but do it.” Prince Cassian motioned to the cameras in his room and then put a finger to his lips. Memory huffed.

“This is just a question. I need to know about Kendall–”

“No, you don’t.” Prince Cassian stated. “Go back to your room and do whatever you want there. I don’t have time.”

“But–”

“Out, Jade.”

That was a pointless conversation.
“Fine, mister grumpy pants. Have it your way.” She jeered and smoothly jumped into the tunnel again, annoyed at the Prince who didn’t help her at all.

She wanted to find Elliot, but wasn’t sure if he was on this floor or the Guest Wing. He wasn’t a guest, but then again, wasn’t the West Wing for direct family members? Family members that weren’t married out of the family, like Tsavorite, anyway.

She regressed, moving in the opposite direction. The bookcase, the entrance to her room, was ignored as she barreled forward.

After about ten minutes of climbing up and down stairs, ramps, and trudging through puddles of water here and there, she found the portrait entrance.

I think.

So she went further. The tunnel looped around, and
before she knew it, Memory was staring up at the hole she and Prince Cassian had barely gotten through the night before.

It looked like a good place, and she might even run into Diana and tell her that she was sneaking around before the palace went on high alert looking for the missing princess Jade again.

She jumped and her hand caught hold of the edge. As she heaved herself up, her head hit the top of the cabinet. She shoved it open with a painful moan.

There were three
drivers in the kitchen, chatting quietly and eating, and then turned to stare at her. Two cooks and a maid gave her the weirdest look before returning to their duties in hushed voices.

Memory stood up, brushed her clothes off and smiled.

“Uh, hi?” She strolled over to the counter and swiping a peanut butter sandwich meant for Zoisite.

“Was Diana here?” She asked one of the cooks, and he shook his head.

“Not since this morning, princess.”

Memory’s eyebrows furrowed. It must’ve been at least half an hour since she’d left her room, how could she make it to the kitchen before the head maid did?

One of the drivers nodded towards her and left. As he opened the door Tsavorite entered, looking upset.

She was surprised to see Memory. “Jade…how are you?”

Memory shuffled back and forth awkwardly. “I’m fine. You?”

“Oh, I’m good. Just here to get some food for Ruby.” Tsavorite laughed nervously and picked up a plate. “
You should really stay in your room, Jade.”

Memory shrugged, eating another sandwich. She was oddly hungry these days. “I was bored.”

“You don’t understand.” Tsavorite said softly. “If the thief was smart enough to get in once, he could come in again. You and Prince Cassian could have
died
.”She stressed.

Chills crawled up Memory’s spin
e. She nodded, hoping it would end the conversation, and resumed to eating. She watched as more chefs and maids filtered in, bustling about the kitchen to prepare more food. The guests from the party the night before were still at the palace, and food was scarce.

Obviously it would be, if you try to serve everyone a twelve course meal.
She pouted when one maid smacked the sandwich out of her hands and glared at her. Memory held up her hands, backing away nervously.

She left the kitchen, making her way back to the East Wing. The parlor and drawing rooms were taped off, and there were a few people here and there talking to each other. Diana bumped into her just outside the staircase in the parlor, and she was horrified.

“How did you get here?!”

“Hi, Diana.” Memory tilted her head. “I thought you were getting me food?”

“Oh, I…” She scratched her head. “Had to take a detour. The guests are driving me crazy. I’ll go fetch some food. Now go back to your room before his majesty finds out!”

“Can I visit Elliot?”

“No!” She harped, sauntering away. Memory stuck her tongue out at her.

Like I need permission.

Well, it wasn’t easy. The moment the elevator arrived at the first floor, it opened to reveal two guards standing stiffly on either end of the entrance. And guards were lined up outside the rooms, in pairs of two, and Memory inwardly groaned. She barely said a word before one gently pushed her back into the elevator.

Before the door closed, she hastily asked one of the guards where Elliot was staying.

“The Guest Wing, princess.”