The Liars (26 page)

“No. If you were sorry you would leave.”

So Memory left.

Her stomach hurt.

As a result, she waltzed into the kitchen, kissing up to the chefs who eventually handed her an extra large serving of chocolate mousse.

“Is that for Prince Cassian?” Memory pointed at a plate of fois gras being prepared. The chef nodded.

Poisoning it wouldn’t be a good idea, no matter how tempting the idea was. Anger, she decided, wasn’t a healthy feeling so she washed it down with the delicate chocolate snack, wallowing in sadness instead.

My life sucks. And other people’s lives suck even more so I can’t even be depressed about mine.

She wolfed down the mousse, ordering another serving.

Three bowls of mousse and two bars of chocolate later, Mem
ory wobbled around the halls, hoping the ground would open and swallow her whole. The maids gave her the weirdest looks, muttering to each other under their breath until Memory passed by. Then they would put on wide smiles until Memory said;

“I know. I look ridiculous.”

She hadn’t wiped the chocolate off her mouth, and the cuts from Tourmaline’s nails probably left pink scars down the sides of her face.

When Lulu sees me she’ll think I was
in a fight gang or something.

Memory waltzed outside, gazing at the dark sky. It was the same sky she hoped Lulu was looking at. But at the same time, she wished her sister wasn’t, because there weren’t any stars in sight. The moon was completely obscured by dark
clouds. Even if it wasn’t, it was a new moon, so there was nothing to look at.

Her gaze dropped to observe the West Wing.
The lights were still on, and Memory could see Prince Cassian’s silhouette move back and forth. It really hurt.

And then she spotted someone sitting on the ledge of the fountain.

“Elliot?” She muttered to herself.

He was reading a book of course, and Memory approached him quietly.

“Hello, Lady Jade.” He said, flipping a page of the book.

“Dang it! How do you do that?” When he didn’t answer, Memory sighed and pointed to the ledge. “How could you sit there after knowing you could fall in?”

“I am not impartial to clumsiness, Lady Jade.” Was it just her or could she hear a bit of teasing in his voice?

“Well. In any case…” Memory stared up at the sky, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Do you want to ride?”

“At this time?” Elliot glanced at his watch. “The horses are sleeping, Lady Jade.”

“Just for ten minutes?”

When he finally nodded, Memory realized how much she would miss him.

The autumn wind blew her hair into her face. Some strands stuck to her chocolate–covered lips which slowly but surely became irritating as Julian galloped forward, but Memory had a tight hold of the reigns and couldn’t risk letting go.

“You’ve improved
quite a bit, Lady Jade.” Elliot commented, catching up to her smoothly. “Perhaps, when his majesty returns, he will allow us to see the summer Olympics.”

Memory’s heart skipped a beat at that, but realized it would never happen. In spite of it all, she smiled. “To see equestrians, of course.”

“Of course.”

They went one more round before slowing down near the stables. Memory fed Julian an apple, apo
logizing for delaying his sleep. Of course, horses only slept a few hours a day, and only needed short periods of rest here and there, but Memory still felt horrible.

Elliot turned the lights on in the stables, petting Irma and pulling the saddle off her. Memory waited for him near the front, and his gaze fell to her lips.

“Chocolate?” He murmured. Embarrassed, Memory covered her mouth.

“Er. Yeah. I was hungry!” She said defensively, and Elliot reached out, tracing one of the fresh scars on her face.

“What happened, Lady Jade?”

Memory shivered but didn’t respond. Somehow, answering the question by saying ‘Tourmaline’s freakish nails’ didn’t sound appropriate for the moment. 

He took her hand and pried it away from her mouth before pulling out a handkerchief from his pocket.

A handkerchief. Of course.

He was gentle as he wiped her face clean, and slowly leaned forward. Memory realized he was so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath.

I’m his cousin’s daughter. He wouldn’t do anything, right?
Memory thought worriedly, suddenly scared beyond belief.
RIGHT?

His lips were less than an inch away when Memory’s ringtone pierced the air. She gasped and ducked away, sending Elliot an apologetic look. After she was at least ten yards away, she picked up the call, no idea whether she was grateful for the interruption or not.

“Is this Princess Jade?”

Memory pursed her lips. “Who’s this? How did you get my number?”

Heavy breathing echoed on the other end of the line.

“No time for that. Well, I’m kind of insulted you don’t recognize me especially after you attacked me, but–”

That smugness…

“Martin?!” Memory shouted. She immediately covered
her mouth, smiling sheepishly at Elliot who crossed his arms and waited patiently for her.

“
You have any idea how many maids I had to charm to get this number? I couldn’t just leave a message! My idiot brother is about to kill your father, so–”

Memory blinked. The phone felt like it burned.

“Martin, are you drunk by any chance? Why in the world would you call me at this time?”

“My brother is going to the palace!”

“Why would you talk to me at all you coward?”

“Are you even listening to me?”

“I’m hanging up.”

“I feel like we’re having completely different conversations.”
Martin’s voice mirrored her emotions.
“At least give me a chance to speak!”

Memory huffed, urging him to go on.

“Let me say this slowly. My brother, Kendall Banks, wants to kill your father.”

“My father?” Memory blinked. Her father at this time was the King. “Kendall Banks? Wait. He escaped from prison.”

Martin kicked something, as Memory heard the sound of glass shattering.

“Yes! And he came to my home, saying he was going to make t
hings right by killing the King.”

Memory, who
’d been floating on cloud nine until this point, snapped out of shock and dropped the phone.

“KILL THE KING?”

Elliot shot up and grabbed the phone, but Memory yanked it back from him.

“Why the heck are you telling
me
this?” She couldn’t believe this kid. His stupidity ranged from somewhere between idiot and moron. “Call the freaking police, the CIA, the FBI, and I don’t know, maybe national security? Are you insane?!”

“Do you think my family would
let me?”
Martin started,
“I mean, now that I pretty much ruined any chance of being on good terms with the Eastcote family, they don’t care less if the King was killed if it meant they were back in good graces.”

“And you do?” Memory shivered as Elliot leaned close, trying to overhear the conversation without seeming obvious. “What about your brother, why didn’t you stop him? Wait, how did he escape in the first place?”

“I have no clue. But if he succeeds, then there’s no way he’ll get away with it.”
Martin started nervously.
“And father was stupid enough to let him go and try. Listen, I can’t talk much longer. It won’t be long until Fred finds me in his closet.”

“What am I supposed to do? The King isn’t even here!” Memory shouted, pacing back and forth. “Does he know that? Wait, no,
it’s not public news.”

Martin paused.
“Wait, what?”

“I don’t know if you decided to tell me because you’re trying to rebel or something, but this is serious.” M
emory took a deep breath. “The King is sick.”

“
I knew that. Your brother is in change, apparently.”

Memory brushed his cheekiness aside. “Yeah, but the King was airlifted to France a couple days ago.”

“Oh no.”
Memory heard Martin smack his forehead.
“I knew you lot were crazy, manipulative–
”

A sense of foreboding overcame Memory. “Martin,” She started slowly, “What’s going on?”

“You aunt. Your crazy witch of an aunt.”

“My aunt? What does she have to do with this?” Memory asked, frustrated with his lack of coherent answers.

“I’m flying over as soon as I can sneak out. It’s only a two hour flight.”

Memory forced herself to take deep breaths. “Martin. Answer me right now or I will unleash the entire army on your family.”

“Your aunt is crazy.”
And he hung up.

Memory threw her phone at the nearest tree.

“Elliot, what am I supposed to do?” Memory paced back and forth, unable to walk in a straight line. She eventually bumped into him, unaware of the looks he was giving her.

“Lady Jade. Threats for the King come on a daily basis. Surely, this is nothing to worry about.”

“You don’t realize!” Memory snapped at him. “It’s Kendall Banks! The thief! If he got in and slipped out with the heirloom, who’s to say he couldn’t get in, kill someone, and get away with it?”

“Martin Banks.” He reminded her. She sighed, knowing he didn’t particularly like him, and was more than annoyed that she was trusting his word. Annoyed in an Elliot sort of way. “He may be trying to get a rise out of you.”

Memory shook her head furiously. “He escaped. Now he’s coming here, but he doesn’t know the King is in France. We need to do something!”

“Lady Jade,” Elliot started firmly, grasping her chin and forcing her to look up, “I will ask his highness to strengthen the security for tonight.”

“That’s not enough.”

“That is all I can do.”

She sighed, stepping away as his hands dropped to his sides.

“Thank you, Elliot.”

That night was the most stressful night of Memory’s life. The day’s events had taken a toll on her, and the nagging feeling that something horrible was going to happen the next day wouldn’t leave her. It plagued her throughout the night as she tossed and turned, jumping up to look out the window at random times. At one point, she even pushed her desk in front of the bookcase in fear that Martin’s elder brother would suddenly walk in with a gun in his hands.

Finally, light illuminated the sky, and Memory shot out of bed. She tried to redial Martin’s number but he never picked up.

Maybe it was all just a ruse. Maybe Elliot was right.

“But it doesn’t feel right.” Memory told Diana, who took the sentence out of context and smiled.

“Dresses never feel right for you, dear.”

But then Alexa burst in, shaking.

“Martin Banks is here, Princess!”

Prince Cassian was furious. Martin was banned from the palace, but that didn’t stop him from sitting in his fancy car outside the palace gates.

It was just Memory’s luck that she managed to reach him before
Prince Cassian did.

“I was going to tell you,” She said, heaving. She gripped the iron bars of the gates tightly. “You aren’t allowed here!”

Martin grinned cheekily from his window. Memory didn’t know which brother was worse–Martin or Kendall.

“But I’m not in the palace.” He replied, stepping out of
the car. He walked over to where Memory was trying to stick her head in between two iron bars.

“Imagine the headlines–Martin Banks, savior of the free world.”

Her hands twitched. Her fist was just about to fly into his face when Elliot joined her.

“Martin.” He greeted.

Martin glowered. “Mr. Elliot.”

The two embarked on a staring contest, which Memory was sure Elliot was winning. It was when Martin began tearing up that Memory poked up, her arm thankfully thin enough to fit through the bars.

“You have a lot of explaining to do. A lot. Does your dad know you’re here?”

He rolled his eyes. “No, Princess.
In fact, we are quite insulted that we weren’t invited to Lady Zoisite’s party.”

“Pfft, you deserve it.”

“I see you still have scars.”

Memory turned red. “Not because of you!” She felt someone tug on her arm but was still busy bantering with Martin.

“My aunt is sort of temperamental.” She said, feeling self–conscious. The scars were more like scratches, but were pink and slightly raised. That was enough to send her into a panic.

Martin’s eyes darkened. “She is. She ruined everything.
Listen, I must warn you about–”