Page 9 of House of Roots and Ruin
I jumped, startled by Camille’s voice. I hadn’t noticed her return or approach, and judging from the color leaving Miriam’s face, neither had she.
“You’re back,” I said.
“Yes, well…Roland has the boat loaded. We ought to be getting home.”
“Don’t you want to finish lunch? Perhaps we could talk about—”
“We need to leave.”
“Camille, this is Miriam,” I said, feeling terrible my sister hadnot even bothered to acknowledge the girl in front of us. “We were just talking.”
Camille’s gaze drifted over her, never settling upon her face. An angry red crept out of the ruffles of her collar, staining her neck like a bloody handprint. “The tide waits for no one,” she said, her eyes fixed above Miriam’s head. Without a goodbye, she turned on her heel and was out the door, never once looking back to see if I followed her.
Later that night, I tapped on the door of Camille’s parlor.
“Come in,” she bid, her voice light and welcoming. I feared she thought me William or one of the children.
Entering, I spotted her seated before her vanity, removing the day’s finery. I watched her face sour in the mirror’s reflection and knew I’d been right.
I turned, glancing out the windows at the setting sun as it painted the world crimson. Camille and William’s suite of rooms took up nearly all the fourth floor of the west wing and offered the most spectacular views. I could even see the flash of light from Old Maude tonight and wished I could somehow will myself back to those golden childhood days on Hesperus.
“Dinner was lovely,” I started, trying to mend this horribly broken fence with the empty compliments Camille usually drank up like water.
“You didn’t take a bite of it.”
Iknewshe’d been watching me over the rim of her goblet, assessing my every action.
She tilted her head and plucked off a fat teardrop pearl earring, then placed it in a silver dish.
“Camille…can we talk about this afternoon? Please?”
She removed the other pearl and rubbed her earlobes, massaging them. “I don’t see the point, but you do seem determined to have your way in all things today, so fine. Let’s talk about it. Let’s talk well into the night, till we’re both hoarse and exhausted. I have a council meeting at seven on Vasa tomorrow, but I’m certain the men will understand if I’m not at my best. I’ll just tell them Verity wanted to talk.”
“Camille…”
She spun around on the little tufted stool, her eyes sharp and fierce. “What?”
Faced with her wall of fury, my resolve crumbled away. I felt as though I were standing on the cliffs outside Highmoor. One wrong step and I would fall over the edge, careening toward myend.
Eulalie’s painted smile flashed in my mind and I winced.
“I didn’t…I didn’t mean for it to go the way it did.”
“A small reassurance,” she said, turning back to the mirror. She took off her necklace, laying it out on a dazzling midnight-blue cloth. As she folded up the little square of velvet, I noticed her cuticles had been picked raw.
“I’m sorry,” I said, wanting to take a step toward her, wanting to kneel next to her like I would have when I was younger, pressing my forehead against her side. She would have reached out to comfort me then. She’d have rubbed small circles between my shoulder blades, placed a kiss on the top of my head.
“For what?”
Her words stung like acid and I pushed away the thoughts of what she used to do. There would be no such comfort today.
“I didn’t mean to upset you. I don’t want you angry.”
She sniffed. “Well, you’ve failed spectacularly at that.”
I swayed back and forth, uncertain of what to do. It was clear she wasn’t in the mood to talk—this conversation would go nowhere—but I also knew if I were to turn tail and retreat, the incident would fester between us, growing and spreading like the black rot of a gangrenous limb.
“I just…I just don’t understand.” Her admission was soft, a stark contrast from the earlier barbed assault, and I almost didn’t hear it. “I’ve given you so much over the years.”
