Memory's Wake Omnibus: The Complete Illustrated YA Fantasy Series (59 page)

Eloryn ran from the room.

Roen ran after her, without even a glance back at Memory.

Every dark thought inside Memory felt confirmed. She felt completely, helplessly alone.

Memory let loose her churning emotions, opened herself to the Veil, daring it to take her away, somewhere, anywhere better than this. She found herself back in her room. Disappointed, Memory crawled into bed in her still damp underclothes.

“I’ve lost everyone,” she whispered.

“You still have me,” Hope said. She laid her head down on the pillow next to Memory.

Memory turned to face the other way. “It’s your advice that keeps screwing everything up. I should never have messed around with Roen or Dylan.”

Hope groaned pointedly. “No, it was my warning all along that everyone would reject you. It was you who wanted to play happy families like you’re a real girl. It was my advice all along that the only way to make people treat you right was to be the queen, so they had no choice. Let me help you.”

Memory rolled back over, face to face with her old self. “Can you help to stop everything from hurting?”

Hope smiled sympathetically. “I can help you become queen, and then it will be better, I promise. You can pay me back later. We just have to kill Eloryn.”

A chill ran up Memory’s back. “There has to be another way. I’m not a murderer.”

Hope pursed her lips as though thinking. “Sit up. I want to give you something. Something that will give you the strength to do what needs to be done.”

It took all her energy to sit up. The blankets felt like lead. “What?”

“Your memories. I’ve been learning too, and I think we can do it. And once we do, then you’ll see. Then you’ll know who you really are, what we’re capable of.”

Memory exhaled sharply. “My memories? What about my soul? Can you fix it? Make me better again?”

“Your soul is kind of
me
now. I don’t know how to put that Humpty back together again. But I think I can share our memories so you have them too.”

Memory stared at Hope, at who she used to be. If she could at least have all her memories back, would she feel more whole?

“What, you don’t want them?” Hope’s voice was teasing.

“Do it.”

Hope grinned, and pulled a small, unfamiliar knife from her pocket. She cut the palm of her own hand harshly, letting blood seep out. She took Memory’s hand and did the same. Memory flinched but made no sound when the blade sliced her skin.

Hope took Memory’s hand and pressed it into hers, their blood mingling, and began speaking words of magic.

The world faded as Memory fell into her past.

She ran out of the children’s home, running blindly up an alley strewn with trash bags. Her body ached all over, and she felt sick in a way like she could never get better. A man in an old-fashioned suit stood there, reaching a hand out for her.

Thayl,
Memory realized, her thoughts overlaying the memories.
This is the last moment, last memory, before he took them all from me.

Time jumped backwards, and she stood in front of a charred body. A corpse. Nothing burnt so badly could be alive. A choking stench like burned rubber and pork fat filled the small space, murky with smoke. She bent to pick up her knife from the floor as though she still needed protection. Horror coiled inside her.
I was wrong. Make it stop. I don’t want to see more.

Back again and a wide-set man grinned at her as he unbuckled his belt. She wouldn’t let it happen this time, enough was enough. She drew the knife she’d stolen the day before and told the man to back off. She’d always thought he wasn’t quite all there, mentally, and the confusion on his face confirmed it for her then. As though he couldn’t understand her defiance. As though he thought she wanted this and couldn’t believe she’d turn on him. It angered him in a way she’d never seen before and he struck her. Her knife fell uselessly from her hand, and the man beat her and beat her until she thought he’d knock the life right out of her. She curled up on the floor, trying to shield herself. A bubbling pressure built inside her. She tried to hold it back. She knew how dangerous it could be. The man cracked her chin with his boot. She couldn’t hold back. She exploded and the man burned.

Back again and she’s drawing tattoo designs with Will in her room when the man comes to get her. Small, frail Will stood up like he wanted to do something, but didn’t.

Back again. Each vision played faster than the next, hopping backwards in time, playing through her whole life, faster and faster, flooding her.

An entire life in rewind. Every scene scarred by the vision of the burned man. Every scene silenced by the repeating words,
I’m a murderer.

Eloryn felt surrounded by lies. She wanted to trust people, to give the world the benefit of the doubt, believe in the goodness of those around her, but she felt repaid with betrayal. Like Memory and Roen, together, behind her back, despite everything they said. At least they had made one part of her life easier, allowing her to reach one decision.

First thing the next morning, Eloryn went to find Hayes where he worked in her office.
Can I still trust him? What if he is all lies as well? No. I can’t think like that or I’ll have no one left to trust.

Hayes scribbled notes down on a stack of pages bound in string.

“Your majesty?” He looked up, seeming surprised at her presence.

“Hayes,” she said. “I’m sorry I have delayed progress on approved courtship and marriage plans. I wanted to let you know I’m now ready to do my duty as queen. I’ll marry whomever the Council deems most appropriate.”

Hayes put down his pen and rose to his feet. “That is wonderful news. I shall call a meeting this afternoon for the announcement.” Hayes put his hands on her shoulders fondly. “Do you mind if I ask what prompted your decision?”

The image in her head was still too clear. Roen and Memory, holding each other on his bed, wrapped in each other’s arms. “I would prefer you didn’t.”

Memory awoke. She last remembered it being late in the night, but now sunset shone through her window, the pink glow tinting the room. It had become a different day, and she had become a different person.

Her eyes closed again, but a knocking on her bedroom door made her sit up. She could hear Clara calling through it. “Hope, please, open the door.”

I finally am Hope again.
The thought didn’t bring her much happiness. Memory looked around. The doorway was barricaded with furniture and Memory wondered who did it. The other Hope sat on a chair that blocked the way in.

“Welcome back,” she said.

“How long have I been out?” Memory stood up and wavered a little before steadying herself.

“All of last night and today. How do you feel?”

Memory paused and looked at her hands. She needed some nail polish. “Like me.”

Clara knocked and called, but Memory ignored her pleas. Memory went to her wardrobe and pulled out the box of her old clothes, taking the whole lot into the bathroom. Standing at the mirror, she worked on putting all of her piercings back into place. Some of the holes had started to close and she forced the jewelry through. The slash on her hand stung and bled as she screwed in the labret. Memory examined her face then tugged at her hair. It had grown an inch or two, trying to be more fitting for this place that no longer felt like home.

“It’s all back?” Hope asked, trailing beside Memory as she returned to the bed and retrieved the knife Hope had used to cut their hands. Clara seemed to have given up and gone away. Memory went back to the bathroom.

“Yeah. Still a bit messed up. It’s definitely there though. Everything makes a lot more sense now,” Memory said. She sawed at her hair, cutting the back short again.

“Of course your head will be a bit busy at first. You’ve just had a life’s worth of memories injected into your brain. I think we can forgive it a little.”

A life’s worth of memories. A life’s worth of pain.

Her insides were raw, like a scab picked away to the mess underneath. Memory began to feel sick and the mirror rattled against the wall. She felt like an emotive proximity mine.
Keep calm. Keep busy.

Memory threw her t-shirt and jeans on over the old fashioned bodice she wore.

“It’s not right,” she said, looking herself up and down in the mirror.

“I like it. You look like you,” Hope said.

“No. I look like who I used to be.” Memory started changing back out of her old clothes. She slipped on a plain underskirt. She meant to put a proper dress on over the top, but lost motivation half way, left in her t-shirt and the flowing layers of silk that dropped from her waist.
Still not right.
She picked up a make-up brush off the dressing table and started blackening around her eyes.

Hope groaned. “Enough dress up. Now you know what we’re capable of. Are you ready to take what belongs to you, become queen?”

“You’re asking if I’m ready to murder Eloryn?”

“You don’t have to be so blunt about it, but yes. It’s what needs to be done. Eloryn is heavily guarded. But you’ve got the best chance to get close to her. Remember it’s got to look like an accident. The point is to get you to be queen, not executed for regicide.”

Memory said nothing and continued lining her eyes. She wondered if she could go back to the other world. Maybe find Will again. The thought of the other world left a deep nausea in her bones. She couldn’t go back, especially now she knew she was a murderer there. The floor shook, and the exposed pipes running to the bath and sink groaned like they could crack.

Memory centered herself, considering her options. She couldn’t go back. What she had to do to stay here seemed impossible. What else could she do?

An eerie calm fell over her.

The room stilled.

Memory stared at herself in the mirror, then down at the cloth bag on the dresser filled with the coarsely ground powder that Clara assured her was hair dye. It looked worse than the cheap packet sachets Memory used to steal from the drugstore.

I’m calm. I’m in control.

Memory closed her eyes and breathed deeply, imagining the result she wanted, “Change it.”

She opened her eyes. Her ivory blonde hair had become a rich royal purple, the bottom halves of the longer front sections tipped black.

Hope stared. A faint look of concern flashed on her features before she punched Memory in the shoulder and smiled. “Fancy stuff. Getting those emotions locked down, huh?”

“Something like that.”

“Good. It’s all forward from here, ‘kay? And you know what the next step needs to be. I’ll do what I can to help you, just give me the go ahead.”

“No.” Memory took the knife and headed for the door. “She’s my sister.”

Eloryn was passing time within the Round Room, waiting for the meeting Hayes had scheduled for later that day that would seal her fate. A messenger had told her that Roen’s parents were preparing to leave and everyone was making their goodbyes. She wasn’t able to bring herself somewhere she knew Roen would be.

She ran her hands up one of the pillars that stood around the room and found a crack in it still from the explosion. She spoke a behest to fix it. If only she could repair everything so easily.

“Eloryn?” A friendly voice came from around the corner.

“Isabeth,” Eloryn greeted her with a smile. “What are you doing here?”

“I understand it might be asking a lot, but I came to see why the queen hadn’t come to see us off.”

Eloryn worked hard to keep the smile on her face.

Isabeth frowned. “My child, what’s wrong?”

The obviousness of her emotions caused Eloryn to lose control, and she began weeping.

Isabeth took her in her arms, gently stroking her hair. “You surely can’t be that upset to see me go,” she joked softly.

Eloryn put her hand to her mouth in an attempt to hold back her grief.

“It’s all right. Don’t hold it in. Tell me everything.”

Eloryn had never known the comfort of a mother’s arms. She found every one of her doubts and worries falling from her mouth. “I feel I’m making so many mistakes. I owe the Council my trust and loyalty, but find my trust given to men with misogynistic, antiquated, hard-line views. And even knowing that, I’ve handed so much power to them because I couldn’t use that power myself. I’m just not a ruler. But I’m worried. So worried that I’ve done the wrong thing. I don’t know if I can keep going along with their wishes, but don’t know how to challenge them.” Eloryn pulled back. She dried her face with a handkerchief but desperation still filled her voice. “What if you try your hardest to be strong, and do your duty, but it’s simply not who you are?”

“Sweet child, let me tell you something,” Isabeth put her hands on Eloryn’s shoulders and looked at her straight. “Your mother had all the same complaints. And if she had stood up for herself, then things would never have gotten so bad for so long. I’m not blaming your mother, dear, I’m only saying… don’t make the same mistakes that she did. Follow your heart.”

But the one my heart wishes for has already chosen another.
“I can’t. I can’t have what I want. Even if I could, would you still encourage me to follow my heart if it meant I would no longer be royalty? That I and the one I chose to be with would not hold this power?”

Isabeth laughed softly. “Power and duty be damned. You are sad to your core, and it makes me sad to see you so. You should do whatever makes you happy, and if that’s serving your kingdom then so be it. But if it’s not what you want, then why can’t someone else do it? Shouldn’t a prerequisite to rule be the passion and desire to do so?”

Eloryn had already given Hayes so much power, but the thought of handing over what remained gave her chills. “I cannot let Hayes rule. I… I just don’t think he’s right for it.”

Isabeth looked at her like she was a dullard. “Of course he isn’t. I said passion and desire, child. Not greed.”

“I’ve been so foolish.” Eloryn put her head on Isabeth’s shoulder and held her tight. “Thank you. It feels like an age since someone has been so honest with me, Isabeth. I’m so used to lies and duplicity and spending wasted effort on making myself trust and believe. Even from family. Even my sister…”

“If there is one thing that I have learned you can trust, it is family.” Isabeth said. “And I am no hypocrite to say so, despite having just learned how my son kept us fed and clothed all these years. His words were lies but in his actions, every coin he brought home, every sack of flour or new dress spoke clearly, ‘I love you, I care for you, I would do anything to keep you safe.’ And all those years I lied to myself, saying the weight we placed on his shoulders was not too much, that he had not such a hard road.”

Isabeth squeezed Eloryn tight. “For whatever has come between you and your sister, have you looked at the truth in her actions or just seen what you wanted to believe?”

To follow my heart, to be with Roen, has terrified me at every turn. I’ve sought every reason not to, and in Memory and Roen’s intimacy I gave myself the ultimate excuse. Was it just what I wanted to believe?