Memory's Wake (16 page)

“But you still don’t believe her to be human?”

“How she appeared, through the Veil as she did, how she looks so like me, how she has no memory or life of her own... Alward’s research told of the hell beyond the Veil. He believed demons from there could find their way through. Doppelgangers that could cling to a traveler through a broken Veil door, taking their appearance so they can appear human...” Eloryn’s voice faded out, distressed.

Ice shivered under the surface of Memory’s skin.

They thought she was a
demon.

Chapter
Thirteen

Memory backed away from the hedge. She couldn’t stand to hear any more.

A demon?

She sleep-walked along the path and into the grand tent. She’d thought she was just lost, confused, maybe even brain damaged. But she’d only been asking who she was, never
what
she was.

Memory passed by people in the tent. Some tried to speak to her, but she walked on. Wide gowns filled her vision with color, men dressed as admirals and highwaymen, women as peacocks and angels. Some of the guests hardly seemed human, in shape or sheer beauty. Their revelry only made the bitterness in Memory rise. The weight of betrayal dragged her down. She took the nearest seat, and glared through heavy eyes into the growing crowd. Other guests in the marquee stared back at her, gossiping behind lace gloved hands and enameled masks.

Fury burned Memory’s eyelids and she huffed cooling air at them, refusing to let herself cry. Emotions did battle within her, taking all her energy and blocking out the surrounding festivities. It took her a while to realize she was being spoken to.

“Huh?” She turned to see a young man with shining black hair smiling at her. He wore no mask, just a well tailored black suit and a felt hat which he held in one hand against his chest.

“Perceval. My name. And if I might have the honor of knowing yours?” He smiled.

Memory hesitated. “Mem... Just Mem.”

“It is a pleasure, Lady Mem.”

He took her hand. She twitched, confused, but he kissed it gently, and returned it to her lap. She tried to smile at him and failed.

“You aren’t enjoying yourself? It is a fine feast the Duke has put on this evening.”

“Sorry, I’m just not...”
Human?
Memory swallowed bile. She was being ridiculous. She felt human, didn’t she? She set her teeth against each other so firmly they hurt.
How dare Eloryn say I’m not human?

“I haven’t seen you before, have I?” Perceval didn’t wait for her to answer. “You must be new to court. Everyone here has their eyes on you.”

Like she needed the reminder. “I wish they wouldn’t. I feel bad enough already.”

“Bad? They only look at you either in desire or in jealousy. You’re the most splendid lady here this eve.”

Memory lost what she had been thinking and blushed in a way that would challenge Eloryn. She shook her head, unable to reply in any other way.

With her gaze locked on Perceval, she was startled by someone clearing their throat to her side. Roen had appeared out of the crowd in front of her. “There you are. My Lady, the dress transforms you. Not that your previous attire didn’t flatter as well.”

Memory turned her face away from both men, her lips pulling into a sneer. She steeled herself then met Roen’s eyes. He smiled but it didn’t hide an expression too serious to be seen against the backdrop of giddy revelers.

When the silence dragged on, Roen frowned over his tawny eyes. “Have you eaten today? There is plenty of food about.”

“Why aren’t you with Eloryn?” Memory muttered.

A flash of hurt marred Roen’s face then passed. “I was only to escort her to her meeting. I’m now free to enjoy myself.”

“Right.”

“And I do owe you that dance.” Roen offered a hand to Memory and smiled again in a way that looked fake.

“Can’t. Won’t.” Memory turned her back to him, unwilling to keep up any guise of conversation.

“You aren’t being troubled here at all?” Roen eyed Perceval.

“Not by him.” Memory smiled at Perceval, who gave Roen a victorious look that satisfied her.

“Well then, I wish you a pleasant evening.” Roen walked away into the crowd, one final look over his shoulder which Memory pretended to ignore. He quickly found a flock of fawning ladies, and broke off into a dance with one wearing a devil mask.

Memory narrowed her eyes. “God, I could do with a drink.”

Perceval eagerly signaled to a servant who brought filled goblets to them in an instant.

Memory laughed aloud, and lifted her cup to Perceval in appreciation. “Good service here.”

“Indeed, a fine gathering. So I must ask, what could have made the heart of the most lovely lady here so shadowed?” Perceval clicked his goblet against hers and took a sip, his black-brown eyes never leaving her face.

Memory wasn’t sure she liked the way he looked at her. It was nice to be the focus of attention, but it left an odd ill feeling in her gut. Still, she liked having someone to talk to who didn’t care about the Princess, or whether she was human or not. She took a large mouthful of mead from her goblet, enjoying the sweetness of it.

“I just want to go home,” Memory said, staring into the honey liquid.

Perceval’s shoulders dropped. “So early? Could nothing persuade you to stay?”

“No, I mean, I’m not going anywhere right now. But I sort of, can’t get home. I’m kind of lost.”

“Lost? Lucky then that I found you. I may be of assistance.”

“You’d help me? I don’t see any shining armor.”

Perceval twisted his eyebrows at her comment, but smiled over his clear confusion. “In truth, I would help. See, you’ve not yet allowed me to tell you to whom I serve.” Perceval flourished his hand. “For serving is what I do, and I do it very well indeed. If I am unable to help you, then he, of all people, is sure to have the power to help in any way needed.”

Memory warmed to him. Or maybe it was the mead. She gave him a wry smile. “It’s really nice of you, but I’m not entirely sure anymore that anyone can help with the full scope of problems I have.”

“Not even the King himself?” Perceval revealed under his breath. “Indeed. I am in his personal escort, and he has come here tonight on an urgent matter.”

Memory froze mid sip. The King… Thayl? Thayl who was chasing Eloryn, who killed her parents for the throne. Thayl, the only other person ever known to use magic like she did. The most powerful man around, both in magic and in title. Her mind sped through her index on this man, Thayl, until it caught up with her emotions. Thayl, who for all she knew, might not be all that bad, who might treat her like a human being. She had to find her family, people who really cared about her. The only person who had offered to help her so far also called her a demon.
If Eloryn thinks I’m a demon, how true can the rest of what she says be? Thayl’s probably no more evil than me.

“King Thayl, he’s here, at the ball somewhere?”

“Hush now, his attendance is yet unannounced,” Perceval said, looking pleased with himself. “He partakes in some business before coming to the feast.”

“He’s not meeting with anyone up in the palace just now, is he?” A small shiver of worry for Eloryn came to Memory unbidden. She searched her gaze over the crowd but couldn’t see Roen. Both he and his buxom dance partner had vanished. Her mood flipped back to dark. Why should she worry about them? She was obviously nothing to them, at best, and at worst she was a demon. The only thing Eloryn had done for her so far was give her something she could negotiate with to get help from Thayl. She chewed her lip, considering her options.

“No, he is through the grounds here. I’d just passed a message of his arrival along to the Duke’s staff when I saw you here, inexplicably alone, and was more than thankful my duties for the evening had ended.” Perceval smiled at her with dark, half closed eyes. “And at the end of duties comes drinking,” he raised his goblet to hers, “and dancing, if you…”

Memory interrupted him. “I want to meet him. I want to meet the King.”

Roen excused himself to his dance partner as soon as he politely could. She turned away with a cute pout and flick of perfect ringlets. She could have been an amusing distraction, but Roen found himself in no mood to dance. He couldn’t think why. He should be celebrating. He had brought the Princess here safely, and soon she’d be escorted to the Wizards’ Council and under their protection.
It’s for the best. She deserves better guardians. It’s a good thing.
Roen repeated the words again in his mind, but he had to keep forcing the smile onto his face. After doing it all day, that smile wore thin.

Memory’s hard tone lingered in his head, adding to his mood. She was normally so good humored her sudden coldness made him wonder if he’d stepped too far with his own words. He spoke so openly to her only because her wit matched his own. He enjoyed that.

Catching a glimpse of Memory laughing with the dark-haired man, Roen wondered again where he had seen him before. Roen skirted the feast, pacing through the crowd in a short lived attempt to kill time then found himself wandering back up into the castle, toward the private meeting room they had used with Lanval the night before.

He knew he wasn’t welcome. Lanval made it clear his contact would see only the heir, no one else. Roen felt himself drawn back that way regardless. He should at least find out when they planned to have Eloryn leave, to make sure he could see her on her way. He tried to play out the farewell in his mind. Should he have a gift of some kind for her? What did one do in a situation like this? Nothing seemed appropriate. Even the thought of parting ways felt wrong.

Reaching the top of the stairs, he stuck his hands into the familiar pockets of his pants; his normal, plain but neat fitted trousers with concealed pockets for the tools of his trade. Maybe he should have dressed up more. Not that it mattered. He would be back to his normal life soon.

Coming around the corner into the corridor which held the meeting room, Roen almost ran straight into Duke Lanval. He came barreling past with a look of grim concern. He didn’t slow down, but called back as he sped away. “Get her out of here Roen, just take her away!”

A message boy stood trembling at the open doorway to the meeting room. Roen increased his pace, and Eloryn met him in the hall. She looked as pale as the time she had fainted on him. Before he could stop himself, he put his hands around her shoulders, holding her gently. “What happened? Are you all right?”

Eloryn seemed frozen for a moment, then jerked back to awareness. She stepped out of his hold and ran down the hall.

Roen looked at the quivering messenger and snapped louder at him than he meant. “What message did you deliver?”

“That King Thayl has arrived.”

Roen bolted after Eloryn, catching up to her quickly. “That’s not the right way. We have to get you out of the castle, keep you hidden.”

She kept running. She shook her head and her voice came out as a panicked whisper. “She’s out there all on her own.”