House of Salt and Sorrows(18)

His voice held a stern note of warning, and immediately Morella shook her head, backing down. “I’m not upset, Ortun, only surprised. I assumed Salann followed the same traditions as the rest of Arcannia, lands and family titles passed from father to son.” Her forced smile wavered. “I should have known you islanders would be different.”

Papa stood abruptly. He was proud of our seafaring heritage, and it hurt him when others thought less of us for living so far from the capital.

“You’re an islander now too,” he reminded her before stalking out of the room and leaving us with our pile of shoes.





I winced as the corset’s laces were pulled in and dug into the center of my waist.

The shop assistant made an apologetic noise in the back of her throat. “One more deep breath, please, my lady.”

The new stays pressed into my hip bones, and my face twisted into a grimace. The assistant motioned for me to hold my arms up so she could slip the pale green silk over my head. As the full skirt settled around my waist, Camille peeked around a fabric screen and clapped her hands.

“Oh, Annaleigh, you look lovely!”

“You as well,” I half said, half gasped. The rose gold brought out bronze shimmers in her hair, and her cheeks flushed with radiance.

“I can’t wait for the first dance.”

“Do you really think you’ll meet someone?”

“Papa did invite every naval officer he knows.”

I blanched. “And all those dukes.”

Her smile widened. “And all those dukes.”

Papa had promised to invite a number of possible suitors to the ball. After seeing a portrait of Robin Briord, the young Duke of Foresia, Camille had taken an uncommon interest in learning all she could about the wooded province. She spun around the shop, no doubt daydreaming of him.

I wondered about the handsome stranger from Selkirk. Cassius had certainly carried himself like a grand lord. Papa had sent out so many invitations, perhaps he’d be among them. I briefly entertained the thought of us twirling through the room, lit with hundreds of candles, his hand clasped around mine. He’d spin me closer, and just before the music ended, he’d lean in to kiss me….

“I don’t even know what I’d say to a duke,” I muttered, pushing the fantasy aside.

“You’ll be fine. You only have to be yourself, and lines of suitors will ask Papa for his blessing.”

Lines of suitors. I couldn’t imagine a more mortifying scenario.

My greatest hope was finding someone with the same shade of hair as the lock from Eulalie’s pocket watch. I’d been carrying it with me everywhere, studying every blond man I came across, searching for a match.

Morella and Mrs. Drexel, the shop owner, entered the room.

The designer brought her hands to her mouth with theatrical charm before spinning me about in a circle. “Oh, darling! Never have I made such a dress for such a girl. You look just like the ocean waves on a warm summer day! I wouldn’t be surprised if Pontus came out of the Brine to claim you as his bride.”

“That’s the water one, right?” Morella asked.

The rest of us in the room nodded uneasily. There was no quicker way to spot a mainlander than to bring up religion. Other parts of Arcannia worshipped various combinations of gods: Vaipany, lord of sky and sun; Seland, ruler of earth; Versia, queen of the night; and Arina, goddess of love. There were dozens of other deities—Harbingers and Tricksters—who ruled over other aspects of life, but for the People of the Salt, Pontus, king of the sea, was the only god we needed.

“What do you think of the dress?” Mrs. Drexel asked, changing the subject with practiced tact.

I studied my reflection. Intricate embroidery flowed like waves across the silk bodice. My shoulders were completely bare, save for little decorative sleeves scalloped across my arms. Dozens of lengths of gossamer silk and tulle made up the skirt. The top layers were different shades of light green—mint and beryl—with flashes of darker emerald and verdigris peeking from the bottom.

“I feel just like a water nymph.” I traced my hand over the metallic embroidery and beadwork of the generous neckline. “A very naked nymph.”

The other women laughed.

I tugged at the edging, trying to pull it higher. “Could we add something here? A band of silk or some lace perhaps? I just feel so…exposed.”

Morella pushed my hand aside, revealing my bared skin. “Oh, Annaleigh, you’re a grown woman now. You can’t cover yourself up like a little girl. How will this Pontus ever see your best assets?”

Mrs. Drexel frowned at Morella’s flippant mention of Pontus but nodded nonetheless. With a quick glance about the shop, she lowered her voice to a furtive whisper. “I shouldn’t tell you this, but the other day I had a client come in—a very special client. She saw your gown hanging on the rack and demanded I make her one just like it.”

“Who was it?” Morella leaned in with wide eyes, hungry for gossip.

Mrs. Drexel beamed with pleasure, keenly aware of how much we all wanted to know. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly say. But she’s a dear customer. A truly lovely creature. Her only request was that I make her gown the most passionate pink I could find. Something to truly strike the heart of any man, mortal or…otherwise.”

“Arina!” Camille gasped. “You design dresses for the goddess of beauty?” She looked around the tiny shop as if expecting Arina to pop out from behind an embroidered screen and surprise us all.