Memory's Wake Omnibus: The Complete Illustrated YA Fantasy Series (48 page)

Memory blew a raspberry back at him, but kept holding his hand. It made her feel strange, both comfortable and wrong, adding to the reckless emotions that had grown inside her. Like there was a voice telling her to break rules and take risks and that didn’t care about the consequences.
What does it matter if I’m not even a whole person?

Roen lifted their joined hands and held his candle near to look at her wrist.

“What is that hideous thing you’re wearing?”

“It’s not hideous! It’s cute.” Memory defended the bracelet of splintery, chunky, wooden beads she wore.

“I’m a little worried about your taste now. You don’t consider me cute, do you?”

“Not at all. If I had to describe you, pretty is the word I’d pick. And this
is
cute,” Memory said, shaking her wrist and making it rattle. “Little Edele gave it to me last time I visited the orphans in town, just before the bombing. She made it herself. I can’t wait to get back into town and see them all again.”

Roen laughed softly. “That’s really sweet. I’m not surprised they like you so much.”

Memory smiled wryly. “Yeah, it’s because I hand out cash.”

Roen laughed and squeezed her hand, but Memory didn’t feel like she was joking. It felt like there was always some reason that people liked her that wasn’t anything to do with who she really was.

They walked in silence until they reached the bottom of the tunnels. With a grand flourish of her arms Memory showed Roen the stacked crates and artifacts.

Roen let go of her hand and lifted the lids of a couple of boxes. “This is all…”

“Iron, yep. A dirty little secret under the capital of Avall. I figure some items missed the Purge and they’ve been collected here, but I haven’t found any official records or acknowledgements of anyone doing that. Will says the fairies have avoided these tunnels since the days of the Pact, so it must have been happening a long time.”

Roen ran his hand over the crates. “Have you told anyone about this? Have you told Eloryn?”

“No, if I tell her, she’ll tell Hayes, and the Council will be all over it. I think this place is secret for a reason.” Memory took her knife and added it to the collection again. “Hey, do you think you can find your own way back? I’m not ready to go just yet. Being down here helps to shake a few memories free.”

“I can stay with you if you like.”

Memory stared out over the glittering black water that seemed to go forever. “No, I’d like to be alone.”

Roen frowned, but nodded. He paused, then kissed her forehead and walked away.

Memory sat down on a wooden crate and played with a dented spearhead with a hole in its base. She wondered if any other memories would come to her, or how long it might take, when warmth rushed through her.

The frail boy stood in front of her, a tiny soldier at attention. Unrecognizable otherwise, his wide blue eyes told her it was Will. The children were never officially informed of how others ended up in the home, but the gossip always managed to get around. She heard that this kid lost his parents and rest of his close relatives in a landslide while they were all on a family vacation together. He was the only one to survive. Some kids said he was stuck under rubble with dead bodies for days before he was dug out. Maybe that was why he was so scrawny.

It had been a week since she’d stepped in and stopped some of the kids beating on him. It wasn’t the first time he’d been in fights. It was his fault, taking arty classes and reading books in public. The kid had no survival instincts. She’d ignored it like she ignored what happened to everyone else, but that time the bullies went too far, drawing blood, so she drew a bit of their blood back and warned them off the boy.

He’d been trailing at her heels ever since, saying she’d saved his life, that he owed her.

She tried to shake him off, but as much as she hated to admit it, she liked having him around. Her little minion. He did anything she asked.

Will stood silent, waiting for her to speak.

“Okay, kid,” Memory said. “If you’re going to keep following me about, then we need to establish some ground rules.”

Will nodded. She leaned in close to him, staring him right in the eyes, almost cruelly.

“First rule – no touching. Break that rule and I break your wrists.”

He nodded again.

“Second rule – That thing that happens? No talking about it. Ever. Nothing happens. So there’s nothing to talk about.”

“Third rule–”

Memory found her face wet, tears spilling down her cheeks. Will still followed her rules. Stupid rules from so long ago. And what had she done for him?

She had to find him. She had to apologize. Again.

Memory took the other exit from the tunnels and ventured up through the dried-up well and into the hunting grounds.

The late afternoon sun was a rich orange tone, shafts of light shining through the last few blood-red leaves clinging to branches above. Memory called Will’s name, and a flock of birds startled and flew from a tree nearby, up into the golden sky.

But Will didn’t come.

She wandered farther into the forest, meandering slowly, watching her footing for pesky toadstools. She called his name again, and he didn’t come.

The forest grew dark and Memory came to a small pool, lush with ferns and water lilies, the flowers all closed for the night. Her eyes felt sticky from her earlier tears, so she wet her hands and wiped her face. When she stood up from the water’s edge, Mina appeared in front of her.

Memory had never been so close to Mina before. The sprite hovered just above the water, her pointed toes occasionally dipping in and causing ripples. There was an almost faded quality to the way that she looked, translucent and glowing like milky glass lit from behind. Her flame red hair, the one splash of color on her, lifted and swirled around a pretty face marred by a scowl.

“Stop looking for him,” Mina ordered.

“Why? Doesn’t he want to see me?”

“You can’t be with him. He doesn’t belong to you.” Mina flew up closer to Memory, bobbing from side to side. Her wings, like tattered dragonfly wings, fluttered and shimmered.

“Listen, lady, I know Will doesn’t belong to me. I’m not trying to take your boyfriend off you. I’m just trying to find him to talk to him.”

“No. I said you can’t be with him!”

Mina lashed out, swiping at her, scratching her arm, tearing through cloth and skin. Memory recoiled in pain and shock. “You did not just do that!”

Mina hissed, “Stay away from my boy.”

Before Memory could respond, Mina vanished.

Memory touched her arm. She was bleeding. The pattern of the scratches was familiar, similar to the ones on Will’s chest the last time she saw him. An angry worry filled Memory. She thought Will actually liked Mina, that they were together with whatever mutual emotions that involved, but now she was concerned.
Just what kind of relationship do they have?

Whatever it was, it was Memory’s fault. It was her fault he was here at all. If only she could send him home, back to the other world. She’d tried for Thayl and couldn’t, but there must be a way. She just had to try harder, learn more. She hadn’t even asked Will what he wanted. She shook her head.
Of course he wants to go home.

Memory dropped to the mossy ground with a thud. “I have to make this right,” she said aloud.

Hope squatted down next to her, plucking leaves off a fern stem. In the darkness of the forest, the bright pink heart on her t-shirt seemed to glow.

“Did you see that?” Memory asked her, fuming.

“Jealous fairy attack? Yeah. All the more reason to keep away from that lot.”

Memory groaned and threw a pebble into the pond. “There’s got to be a way to get home. To help Will go home, away from that she-beast.”

Hope dropped the fern and put her hands on Memory’s knees, looking into her eyes. “You’re not thinking of going back too, are you? You can’t. You have to stay here with me. You don’t remember what it was like there.”

“No. But Will deserves a chance to choose.” Moisture had started wicking through Memory’s dress from the damp ground, chilling her. She stood up, feeling like she should go back to the castle, but not really wanting to. “I guess I don’t really have any home. There, here, nothing feels right anymore.”

“You can make here work. I’m here with you, and if you were queen everything would be better. You wouldn’t have to be second to Eloryn anymore. You’d have the power to make everything how you wanted it.”

“It wouldn’t give me the power to help Will. Are all fairies so horrible? And Mina is a seelie fae. I thought they were the good guys.” Memory’s breathing became ragged. The encounter had upset her more than she knew why. “I don’t like the idea of Will being around her.”

“From what I’ve seen, all the fae are nasty, untrustworthy and better off extinct.” Hope stood up and looked in the direction of the old well. “I don’t think you should have gotten rid of your knife.”

At Memory’s instruction, the chef placed the top of the bun on the stack of food. She picked up one of the creations and took a bite.

“It’s close, but still missing something. Probably the special sauce.”

Memory had woken up that morning craving something she hadn’t remembered until now. A burger. She’d come with Clara to the kitchens and commandeered one of the chefs to help with the process, and they ended up with a large tray full of burgers. Apparently making just one of something wasn’t the way they worked in here.

A small creature crept up the edge of the marble-topped bench. It looked like it was made of twigs and had huge aqua blue cat eyes. It made a grab for some leftover mince.

The chef shooed it away. “Cheeky boggart.”

The kitchens were hot and busy, filled with gusts of smoke and steam, sizzles and clanging pots. Memory’s bodyguards remained outside, unable to fit into the chaos, which made the experience more enjoyable for her. She sat up on the kitchen bench overseeing the chef’s work and Clara leant next to her. They’d taken over a small worksite, but the rest of the kitchen still bustled with staff preparing meals for an entire castle of nobles, servants, and guards. Even the pets had meals prepared here, Memory learned, when she questioned where a plate of raw meat was being taken and learned it was for the falcons in the mews.
Mews
, thought Memory.
Sounds like something a cat does, not a house for birds.

Although Memory had managed to find most of the necessary ingredients for her burgers, the cheese wasn’t the same sort of rubbery processed slice she remembered, the ketchup was fresh and chunky, and the bread was heartier and crustier than the sponge soft bun she wanted.

Clara took a bite of one. “I think they’re brilliant. These are sure to become popular in Avall. I’m going to see that my favorite tavern starts serving these. If I tell them the princess invented them they will have no hesitation adding them to the menu.”

“That would look great in the history books. Princess Memory Maellan, Inventor of Hamburgers.” Memory smiled as she chewed her burger. It wasn’t how she remembered them, just close enough to tease her senses.

A large man approached through a gust of steam, kitchen workers scurrying out of the way of his imposing presence. His suit was black and purple. Memory smiled when she saw who it was.

Bedevere stopped in front of Memory and bowed. “Your Highness, I was told I would find you here. I’m sorry to disturb your meal.” He held out a folded piece of paper, without seal or envelope.

“No probs. Is that for me?” Memory wiped her hands on her apron. It had been forced on her by Clara and seeing the sauce smear she’d just made across it she was thankful she hadn’t just done that to her ice-blue dress.

“Yes. From my late brother.” Bedevere kept his usual steadfast expression, but Memory could see that Waylan’s death was still too fresh for him, just as it was for her. “I discovered it on his desk. It was addressed to you, but he hadn’t yet sealed it before his untimely death.”

Bedevere looked at the row of burgers with interest. “What are these?”

Memory lifted the tray for him. “Something from the other world. Try one.”

“Then there will be less for me,” Clara said with a playful sad tone.

“No way you could eat that many,” Memory scoffed.

“True indeed. That is something you would do.” Clara poked Memory’s stomach. “Councilor Bedevere, ignore my poor humor. Do try one. They are delicious.”

Bedevere, who had been holding a key in his free hand, placed it down on the kitchen bench next to Memory.

“I will take that offer indeed.” He reached for a knife and fork.

“That’s not how you eat a burger. This is how you eat a burger,” Memory said, and demonstrated grabbing a burger in both hands and stuffing it into her mouth. Juices ran down her wrist.

Bedevere raised an eyebrow, but picked a burger up as directed. He didn’t begin eating right away. “It is nice to be away from the meeting chambers for an intermission. So much organization still to do for security concerns. The Council fails to agree upon a proper magical security system for the Council’s most important works. We’re storing such important books and documents in an archaic safe room that uses mundane keys of all things. Very primitive, if you ask me. The only failsafe is that the door requires two keys.”

He glanced at Memory with a serious expression then took a bite of the burger. As he chewed, Memory thought she almost saw him crack a smile before his normal dour expression returned. “Yes, delicious. Since the fae ceased bringing imports of food and technology into Avall over a century ago, I fear there must be much we are missing out on. If you don’t believe, as most do, the reason they ceased importing was the complete fall of the rest of the world into Hell. At some point, your highness, I’d be appreciative of your co-operation in mapping and comparing timelines, from what you may remember, of course.”

Bedevere placed the burger back on the plate, having only eaten one mouthful, and gave Memory another swift bow. “I had better be back to work. Thank you for sharing some of the other world with me. I hope to learn more from you soon.”

Bedevere’s gaze dropped for a split second to the key beside Memory then back to meet her gaze before he nodded and left.

Understanding the message but not entirely sure why, Memory tucked his key into the palm of her hand before anyone else noticed it.

“What an odd gentleman,” Clara said.

“Yeah.” Memory looked at the letter he’d given her. For her from Waylan, not long before he was killed. She looked up at the ceiling until her eyes stopped watering.

“Are you having any more of these? I’d like to take the rest to some friends around the palace,” Clara asked. Memory took the one she’d already started off the tray then shook her head. Clara took the tray and left.

Memory opened the letter and read while eating the rest of her burger.

The letter was, as Bedevere had said, addressed to her. It explained that Alward’s magic books, which had been prohibited from going to Eloryn under the grounds of them being Council property, had already been catalogued and dispersed into the Wizard Council’s library. However, the filing of Alward’s personal research had been delayed due to short staffing and the time it was taking to catalogue the rambling studies. It had fallen to Waylan to catalogue the work, and while examining the notes he realized much of it was pertinent to Memory. Waylan noted that he had set these papers aside in the storage safe, out of the way on the back table beside other unsorted documents. In the letter he expressed that he believed these studies should belong to Memory and that he would be lobbying the Council to release them.

Then he died before he could.

Memory took a deep breath, a small smile shaking onto her mouth. She realized Bedevere had read the letter before handing it to her. His dead brother’s intent was for her to have Alward’s research, and Bedevere had left her with information on their security and a key to the safe they were kept.

Memory didn’t need to think too much about stealing the documents. In her mind they belonged to Eloryn, and if there was anything in them to help her understand her magic better, then she needed them. She just had to get another key.

Her first thought was of Roen, but asking him to help her steal seemed cruel, given the way he felt about his past. She’d just have to wait for another opportunity.

The window seat in the library was piled in soft pillows and lush upholstery, and made the perfect refuge from the gray weather surrounding the palace. It was becoming one of Memory’s favorite places, and the sound of rain on the glass helped keep her calm when thoughts confused her and emotions became dark and volatile, as they did too frequently these days.

She had just wriggled into a comfortable position when Eloryn approached. Her ever-present guard duty kept a distance, planting themselves like suits of armor along the walls.

“Might I join you?” Eloryn’s voice wavered. Memory hadn’t seen her sister since their argument the last time here at the window seat. She looked perfect as ever, and Memory wondered how her hair always looked so stunning. Rivers of jealousy inducing pale gold.
Does she say her magic words to it and make it do what she wants? Seems like cheating, but then, who’d want a hair straightener when you have magic?

“You’re reading the book I gave you?” Eloryn asked, sounding even more nervous and making Memory realize she hadn’t replied.

Memory had the Avall history book balanced on her lap. She offered her sister a small smile. “It’s pretty good actually.” She tilted her head to the vacant opposite end of the window seat. Eloryn sat down with a look of relief.

Eloryn clutched a couple of books against her chest, but didn’t immediately start reading any. Memory wondered if they were for study, or for an excuse. She smiled a little more. She regretted the words she’d said to Eloryn when they’d fought. Memory wasn’t entirely sure what to think about Eloryn right now, but could tell Eloryn was trying to mend their relationship. Memory decided to try as well.

“This book has taught me a lot. Also, the pictures are really pretty.” Memory demonstrated by flicking to a portrait of a white-haired wizard, surrounded by archaic chemistry equipment.

Eloryn leaned forward a little and smiled “Lauphmer the Wise, one of the most powerful wizards of Avall history. It always was one of my favorite books of Alward’s collection when growing up.”

Memory ran a hand down the slightly worn but well cared for binding. “This was one of Alward’s books? I didn’t realize. Are you sure it’s okay for me to have?”

“Of course, that’s why I gave it to you.”

Memory couldn’t look her sister in the face. She’d been so ungrateful when she’d first received the book as a present. She stared at the illustration instead. Something caught her eye, and she frowned in recognition.

“Just how accurate would you say these pictures are?” she asked.

“Quite. Most are portraits the wizards would have sat for personally.”

In the portrait, a small object hung from a chain about the wizard’s neck. An arrowhead, the same she’d seen in the iron stash beneath the castle.

Memory started flicking through pages, back to other portraits, examining them.

Eloryn moved closer to see what she was looking at. Memory poked the page hard, pointing to another powerful wizard from Avall history who sat beside the hoe she’d also seen in the stash.

“This is iron.”

She flicked back to Lauphmer and pointed out the arrowhead. “This too.”

Something twigged in Memory’s head and she turned the book right to the front.

“And, of course…”

Arthur with Caliburn.

“Mem, how do you know? They could be silver, or bronze. Caliburn is the only cold iron artifact.”

Memory shook her head and chewed her fingers. “No. No, this makes sense. Is it possible?”

“I’m afraid you’ve lost me,” Eloryn said with a confused giggle.

“All these great wizards with their iron tidbits. Me with my magic and my knife. That’s not a coincidence.”

“If indeed these wizards did carry cold iron, which I doubt they would have as there should be no iron in Avall.”

Memory looked up from staring at the illustration of Arthur. “Why do they call it
cold
iron? It always feels warm to me. Doesn’t it feel warm to you?”