Page 119 of House of Salt and Sorrows
“I am?” I asked, aghast. “Me?”
“No one else is seeing people who don’t exist.”
My dagger clattered to the floor as the room swam in and out of focus. This was a mistake. It had to be. Cassius was real. I’d been with him. All night. He was the one who told me everything about Viscardi and the bargain. Kosamaras and her games.
Her games…
She’s the Harbinger of Madness, creating so many false visions and skewed realities that the poor soul takes his life just to end the torment.
With his words ringing in my ears, I sank to my knees, shivering uncontrollably. Had Kosamaras made me imagine Cassius? Was she powerful enough to create an entire person from thin air? We’d had so many conversations, shared so many kisses. I remembered the look in his eyes when he said he liked me best. I could still feel his hands on my body. That couldn’t be manufactured, could it? He was real. He had to be.
I remembered talking about him with my sisters. They’d seen him—I wasn’t the only one! But as quickly as my triumphant thought came, it was snatched away, like trying to hold on to the changing tides with your bare hands.
Rosalie and Ligeia had spoken with him. They were dead and couldn’t vouch for him or me.
“Honor! Mercy! You were with him at the tavern in Astrea. He bought you cider.” They stared blankly at me. “The day that Edgar…the day we got new slippers to replace the fairy shoes…”
Even as I said this, I spotted a twinkle of jade. Incomprehension flooded through me as I pushed aside my skirts, staring at my fairy shoes, whole and intact. They looked as new as the day we’d unwrapped them. I quickly covered them back up, wishing I’d never noticed them.
“Camille, you’ve seen him, I know you have. He sat right next to you at Churning! He was at the ball in Pelage….” I shook my head, trying to dislodge that thought. The balls weren’t real, and Cassius hadn’t been there.
The truth crashed through me, falling from above like an anchor settling on the seafloor.
Cassius hadn’t been at the ball in Pelage, even though I was so certain of his presence.
Kosamaras had made me see him there.
She’d made me see him everywhere.
Slowly, watching Papa for approval, Camille crossed the room and knelt beside me. She rubbed soothing circles across my back, the way you would comfort a frightened horse, crazed from a storm. “You mean the triplets’ ball? Annaleigh, no one named Cassius was there.”
“Not that ball. Stop saying my name like that.”
“Like what?”
I shoved her arm away from me. “Like I’ve gone mad. Like you’re trying to calm a mad person.”
“No one thinks you’re mad, Annaleigh,” Papa said. “We’re just worried about you.”
“And Verity,” Honor chimed in.
I whipped around to her, a snarl rising in my throat. “I told you, she wasn’t with me!”
Camille bit her lower lip, eyes shiny with growing tears. “But maybe she was with…this…Cassius?”
A sharp blade of fear stabbed into my stomach. “How could you think I’d do something to Verity? It’s absurd! You know I could never hurt her!”
“I’m sure there’s an explanation for all of this,” Papa said, snatching the dagger from the floor. Now in his hands, it was clearly nothing more than a butter knife, no doubt plucked from breakfast earlier that morning. The memory shimmered in my mind, bright and clear. I saw myself pick it up from the buffet and hide it in my skirt.
“No,” I murmured, staring at the tiny bit of brass. “No, no, no, no.” I curled into a ball, gripping my arms over my head, trying to make the pieces fit together. “What’s happening to me?”
The dark cackle rose up again in the corner of the room. Camille stared at me, worry etched on her face. It was obvious she heard nothing. Just as suddenly as before, it sounded now from the right. I knew without looking Kosamaras would not be there. The laughter continued, creeping closer and closer to me until I realized it had been inside my mind all along, fusing itself into my brain until I broke.
I smacked my temple to dislodge this most unwelcome intruder, but the cackling only grew. I hit myself again. And again, using more force. Part of me was aware of Papa and Camille rushing in to wrestle my hands away, deterring the strikes, but I couldn’t stop. When they pinned my arms back, I flailed forward, trying to smash my head on the floor. If I could just break it open, even a little, the voice could escape and leave me in peace.
The sound of porcelain shattering momentarily broke through my fit, causing me to pause. A vase from one of the bookshelves had exploded into hundreds of sharp pieces across the floor.
I was so relieved to see everyone’s heads snap toward the noise, I sobbed.
