Page 27 of House of Salt and Sorrows
“I…” Camille had made it abundantly clear last night that she wanted nothing to do with our little sister’s visions.
She stamped her foot with impatience. “Well, then? Get out. I need to bathe. And you need to be sure to see Hanna before she starts on the triplets’ hair. You know Rosalie will change her mind at least three times.”
I’d barely gotten my robe on before Camille pushed me out. Down the hall was a set of large silver mirrors. When we were smaller, Camille and I would stand in the middle, looking into the reflection of our reflections until we were dizzy with giggles.
Using the double reflection now, I lowered the back of my robe. Camille was wrong. The red marks weren’t a set of lines. They were bruises, perfectly round. As if someone had pressed their fingertips in, tapping for attention.
I pulled my robe up, hurried to my bedroom, and slammed the door.
Beneath the wide swish of tulle skirts, I flexed my feet, glad the fairy shoes had flat, padded soles. We’d been standing in the receiving line for what felt like hours. If I’d been in heels, I’d be limping to dinner. Camille needled me in the ribs with her sharp elbow.
“Pay attention,” she mouthed.
“This is my wife, Morella, and my eldest daughters, Camille and Annaleigh,” Papa said, greeting another couple. He shook the gentleman’s hand and kissed the tips of the woman’s fingers. “And the birthday girls, Rosalie, Ligeia, and Lenore.”
We pasted on another round of smiles, murmuring a hello and thanking them for coming.
Rosalie flashed open her fan with an impatient flutter, sneaking a look at the receiving line behind Papa. “We’ll never get to the dancing,” she hissed.
I glanced around the ballroom, hoping some of the visitors had ventured into other parts of the manor. Hadn’t we greeted more people than this? The hall, which could easily hold three hundred people, felt half full. A string orchestra played underneath the murmurs of the crowd, making the room seem livelier than it really was.
Perhaps the fog had detained some of the guests on the mainland?
At least the ballroom did not disappoint. Velvet drapes, navy with silvery tracings, were artfully swagged throughout the room, creating private nooks perfect for romantic assignations. Lush purple flowers dripped from fluted columns. The chandelier gleamed and sparkled, its crystal drops twisting and hanging down to form the arms of the Thaumas octopus. The center of the chandelier made up the body, refracting the light of a thousand burning candles. The massive beast covered half the ceiling.
But the most spectacular sight was the stained-glass wall. It had been covered for years in black curtains, as if its mere presence stirred more joy than was proper in a house of mourning. Squares of blue and green glass gave way to teal and aqua higher up, with a frosting of white at the top, transforming one wall of the ballroom into a veritable tsunami. The light from dozens of tall braziers on the patio illuminated the wall like a brilliant jewel, casting cerulean and beryl highlights across the guests.
I caught sight of the Graces running through the crowds, chasing Aunt Lysbette’s tiny toy poodle and giggling with mad glee.
Camille leaned in, whispering under her breath, “Those were the last guests, thank Pontus. I’m starving.”
“Do you remember any of these people’s names?” I asked as we headed in.
“Besides the relatives? Just that one.” She nodded discreetly to Robin Briord. He was standing in a group of young men looking up at the chandelier. Camille’s cheeks flushed with a look of hunger that had nothing to do with our impending dinner. “When should I go talk with him?”
Someone tapped on our shoulders. “No big, fancy greetings for me, then?”
Turning, I couldn’t help my squeal of delight. “Fisher! Is that really you?”
The years of working on Hesperus had changed him. He’d grown taller and filled out, becoming a man, with laugh lines framing warm and familiar brown eyes. When he folded me into a brotherly embrace, I felt the power behind all his new muscles.
“I didn’t know you were coming!” said Camille. “Annaleigh, did you?”
“Hanna mentioned it this morning, but I forgot to tell you.”
She raised one playful eyebrow at me. As girls, we’d both been madly in love with Fisher, trailing after him with all the eagerness of the desperately unrequited. It was the only thing we’d ever truly squabbled over.
“Seems an awfully big thing to forget. I’m sure it was unintentional.” Her tone was teasing, but an edge darkened her words. “How long are you here for?” she asked, turning her attention to Fisher. “It’s been so long since we’ve seen you. Hanna must be thrilled you’re home.”
He nodded. “Your father asked me to stay on till Churning. He wanted to make sure I was at the big First Night dinner.”
First Night, only weeks away, was the start of the Churning Festival, celebrating the change of the seasons as Pontus stirred the oceans with his trident. The cold water from below mixed with the cold air above. With fish diving deeper to spend the winter in a state of semihibernation, the villagers used this time to repair their boats, mend their nets, and spend time with their families. The festival lasted for ten days and grew progressively wilder as it wore on. Families of Papa’s finest captains were invited to welcome in the turning of the sea with a feast at Highmoor. Even in the midst of our deepest mourning, it was the one celebration we always observed.
Camille beamed. “Wonderful. I can’t wait to hear about all your adventures at Old Maude. But first I’m on a mission of my own.” She strode away, cutting a roundabout sweep toward Briord, her eyes focused on his every movement.
Fisher took my hand, spinning me around. “You look awfully pretty tonight, little Minnow. So very grown up. Save me a spot on your dance card? Or is it already too full? Mother always said I took too long to get in motion.”
I opened my pretty paper fan, holding it out to him. It doubled as a dance card, though the spokes were surprisingly empty. Uncle Wilhelm, after much prodding from Aunt Lysbette, had asked to have my first two-step, and a distant cousin had requested to lead me in a fox-trot. I assumed once dinner was over, it would fill up. I was a sister of the guests of honor, after all.
