House of Salt and Sorrows(26)

“Camille, calm down.” I sat on the edge of the fountain.

She threw a fist toward the house. “This was nothing more than a stupid farce!”

“I don’t understand what’s going on. Tell me what happened!”

I hugged my arms around my chest, gooseflesh rippling over all that bare skin. It was far too cold to be out, but the chill only seemed to sharpen Camille’s senses. At least she’d stopped pacing.

She studied Highmoor in silence. The ballroom, shining so brightly inside, could barely be seen. The orchestra’s music echoed eerily in the fog.

“How many men danced with you tonight?”

I sighed. “Would everyone stop harping on that?”

“How many?” She whirled around, seizing my shoulders. There was a strange sheen to her eyes. In the foggy candlelight, Camille looked half crazed. I wrenched free of her grasp, rubbing where her fingers had sunk in.

“Three.”

“Three. The whole night?”

“Well, yes, but—”

She nodded as if she’d already known this. “Relatives, right? And not even many of those.”

“I suppose not.” My teeth began to chatter. “I saw you try to talk to Briord. Just tell me what he said. We’ll catch our death out here.”

She snorted. “The curse strikes again.”

I stood up. “There’s no curse. I’m going back.”

“Wait!” She grabbed me, her nails biting into the soft flesh of my arm. “I waited all night for him to introduce himself, but he never did. So…I decided I would go over and ask him to dance myself.”

“Oh, Camille.”

She frowned. “I overheard him talking with one of his younger brothers. The brother was egging him on, daring him to ask Ligeia for a dance. He said no. The brother asked why, since she was so lovely.”

“What did he say?”

She exhaled with a shaky breath. “He said that, yes, Ligeia was lovely. As lovely as a bouquet of belladonna.”

I wasn’t familiar with the word and tried breaking it down into things I did know. “Beautiful ladies?”

“Nightshade. Poison. He thinks we’re cursed, that we’ll curse anyone who gets too close to us. That’s why none of us have been dancing!”

“That’s not—”

“Oh, Annaleigh, of course it is! Think about it. Whether there is or isn’t a curse, people believe in it. We’ve been tried and found guilty in the public’s opinion. Nothing will change their minds, no matter how many pretty parties Papa throws. We’re cursed, and no one will ever believe otherwise.”

I sank back down, recalling the whispers in the Selkirk marketplace. The speculations that quickly turned to jeers.

“It’s so unfair.”

She nodded. “And let me tell you, the Briord family tree is far from perfect. When I was studying up on him, I saw several first cousins who were awfully fond of each other…. No wonder he has such big ears.”

I smiled, knowing full well that an hour before, Camille had pinned such hopes on those admittedly large ears. “This doesn’t mean it’s over for us. There are other men. Other dukes, in other provinces. Provinces that have never heard of the Thaumas Dozen. Arcannia is vast.”

Camille made a noise of disgust, then joined me on the fountain. With her side pressed against mine, we could have almost been at the piano. I missed those days.

“Even if we could find these other dukes from far away, the second they came here, they’d find out. Everyone would tell them, eager to be the one credited with saving His Grace from a doomed match.”

“Then maybe we go to them.”

“Papa would never sanction such an idea.” She wrapped her hand around mine, squeezing my frozen fingers till a little bit of life sparked in them. “At least we’ll always have each other. Sisters and friends till the end. Promise me.”

“I promise.”

A figure approached us, silhouetted larger than possible against the wall of mist, a cape swirling about his frame. Heels clicked across the garden tiles, heading our way. For a moment, I thought Papa might have come looking for us, but the shadowy shape morphed. It was a woman in full skirts. A curtain of fog swirled around us, growing too thick to see, but I heard her laughter, carefree and breezy.

It was Eulalie. I would stake my life on it.

My mouth went dry as I imagined her ghost, fated to walk an endless loop to the very cliffs where she’d met her end. When the bank of fog dispersed, Camille and I were alone in the garden.

My knuckles were white as I gripped her. She’d have to take Verity’s drawings seriously now. “You saw that, didn’t you?”

“Saw what?”

“The shadow. The laughter…it sounded just like Eulalie, didn’t it?”

Camille raised a questioning eyebrow at me. “You’ve had too much champagne.” She turned with a swish of skirts, heading back inside and leaving me in the fog.

Heels clicked behind me again, though the garden was empty, and I scurried after her.





My eyes fluttered open, blinking back sleepy grit from the corners. It felt far too early to be awake. The party had ended after three, perfectly timed with the tides to send the guests back to Astrea. Tinted-glass buoys filled with luminescent algae lit the docks, giving the partygoers an enchanting sight as they hurried away from Highmoor as fast as their court heels would carry them.