The Liars by Heraa Hashmi Page A

led her to the portrait hanging across the entrance to the dining hall. Memory hadn’t seen it before, but she’d only been in the dining hall once, during that disastrous dinner on the first day.
    It was a simple painting, one of not a person but a vase of flowers. Memory rather liked it.
    “Watch.” Chrysander fingered the side of the golden frame around the painting, and there was a quiet click. The painting slid sideways.
    “No. Way.” She was dumbfounded. A cough itched at the back of her throat but thankfully it didn’t make it. “You can’t be serious.”
    “Follow me, your highness.”
    The painting revealed a dark and unfinished tunnel. The ground was flooding with at least an inch of water, and the sides were made of soil and trash.
    “Do these tunnel s stretch all around the palace?”
    Chrysander pressed the button on the painting again and moved deeper into the tunnel as it shut. The tunnel plunged into darkness, but only momentarily, as Chrysander pulled out his cell phone.
    “I do not know if you remember the story of Harold and Crystal Eastcote?” He asked her, using his cell phone to light the halls.
    Memory distinctly recalled reading about the pair but couldn’t articulate any details.
    “Not to worry, then. My grandfather, your great grandfather, Harold was married to Crystal. They didn’t get along too well because he wouldn’t let her leave their room except for formal occasions. She, after she had their only child, had these tunnels made so she could sneak around the palace.”
    “She was a pretty darn awesome woman, then.” Memory said, following her uncle as he took the right path when the tunnel split into two.
    “She was. But was caught and Harold divorced her. He soon married Spinal. That itself is another story, but Harold never got rid of the tunnels. It was an effective way to get into the forbidden rooms of the palace.”
    Memory gasped. “Does it go to every room?”
    “Every single one, I promise you. Except bathrooms.”
    “That’s still like, four hundred rooms. Did you memorize the pathways?”
    Chrysander chuckled. “There’s a map. But I can’t reveal too much, can I?”
    As she laughed along with him, they climbed higher into the tunnel. It led to a wooden ceiling which he pushed open, revealing his private living quarters.
    “We just crawled out of your floor.” Memory realized, watching him replace the carpeted tile of his room. The tile slid back into place, like no one ever knew there was a hidden passageway entrance there.
    “It ’s certainly something.”
    Chrysander had to work, there was some conference call or something dealing with foreign relations, but he let her stay in his room.
    His room was bigger than hers, and had a bathroom double the size. Memory spent the majority of her time in it, making faces in the mirror. It was an effective way to kill time, really.
    She was about to leave when she heard a female voice outside, high-pitched and annoying.
    Tourmaline.
    Memory pressed her close to the door, hoping to catch some of the conversation. She only caught bits and pieces until the two came closer to the bathroom. She hid underneath the sink but the footsteps stopped. They were right outside the restroom.
    “Brother, please help me. I can’t–”
    “Sister.” Chrysander interrupted. “Both you and I know that this wouldn’t have happened if you had married Jace when you were supposed to.”
    “I know. I know, you think I don’t think about it every night? Every waking moment? I pretend to not care but I do, and it kills me inside. Please, brother.” She begged.
    “You know my position, sister.”
    “She’s my daughter. Chrysander, I have to–”
    The door opened and Chrysander stepped inside, closing it as quick as he’d opened it.
    “Goodbye, Tourmaline.”
    He locked and walked over to the bathtub, resting on the edge of it and pinching his nose. Memory remained still, staring across the bathroom to where he was