House of Salt and Sorrows(30)

His thumb traced a warm circle across my knee. “It sounds terrible. But, I mean…” He paused. “It’s not as though you really are.”

“You don’t believe me.” I folded my arms over my chest, suddenly cold despite the brilliant sunlight.

“I believe they unsettled you—and that’s perfectly natural; you don’t need to be embarrassed about it. But you don’t really believe Verity is seeing ghosts—do you?”

“I don’t know what to think. If they’re not real, why would she draw such awful things?”

He shrugged. “Maybe they’re not so awful to her. Think about it. She’s been in mourning since the day she was born. When has she ever not been surrounded by grief?” Fisher pushed his tousled hair from his eyes. “That has to affect a person, don’t you think?”

“I suppose.”

He squeezed my leg once more. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it. It’s probably just a phase. We all went through odd ones.”

“I remember yours,” I said, an unexpected smile spreading across my lips.

He groaned, pulling back against the waves. “Don’t remind me, don’t remind me.”

“I’ll never forget the way you screamed.” He grinned, but for a moment, I had the strangest feeling he didn’t know what I was talking about. “The sea snake,” I prompted, raising my eyebrows.

Fisher’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that. There’s nothing wrong with screaming when you spot a snake that large. That’s just self-preservation.”

“But it was only a bit of rope!” I exclaimed, laughing at the memory. We’d been combing for seashells on the beach when a length of netting washed up. Fisher had grabbed my hand and hightailed it, hollering his head off about poisonous snakes and our impending doom. We girls left out strands of rope for Fisher to find for the rest of that summer.

“Rope, snake, it’s all the same,” he said, laughing along with me.

The boat struck the black sands of the islet, thudding us from the topic. I hopped from the dinghy and helped Fisher drag it ashore. Farther up the beach, near the rocky outcrops, were a series of tide pools. At high tide, the tiny island was completely underwater, but as the water pulled away, it left behind all sorts of treasures trapped in the basalt. You could always find starfish and rainbow-hued anemones, sometimes even seahorses, stuck until the tide returned. Long clumps of kelp often became entangled in the jagged edges. Tide pools were the perfect place to find more supplies.

“Did you enjoy the ball last night?” I asked as we searched.

“It was certainly the most glamorous evening I’ve ever had. And you?”

“I’m very grateful you were there. None of us would have danced otherwise.”

Realization dawned across his face. “You said your father and Camille were fighting about the curse. People really believe that?”

“Apparently.”

“Your family has had a terrible run of luck, but it doesn’t mean…” He swatted his hand at a fiddler crab, fighting him for a bit of kelp. “I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter quite so much for me. But Camille is the heir now. She’s expected to marry well, and she’s worried she’ll never find a husband if she’s sitting on the outskirts of every ball she attends.”

He cocked his head, musing. “If only there was a way to get everyone off the island…get you far enough from Salann that no one has heard of the Thaumas curse.”

“That’s what I said last night! But she thinks it’s impossible.”

Fisher’s eyes drifted off the island, searching the shores of Salten as if trying to recall a buried memory. “I wonder…” He shrugged, laughing to himself. “It’s probably just more whispers. Forget I said anything.”

“What is it?” I asked, joining him to dump my catch.

“Growing up in the kitchens, you hear lots of stories. And that’s probably all they are.”

“Fisher,” I prompted.

He sighed. “It sounds a little crazy, okay? But I remember hearing something about a passageway, a secret door. For the gods.”

“The gods?” What would gods be doing at Highmoor?

“A long, long time ago, they were much more active in the affairs of mortals. They liked being consulted on everything from art to politics. Some of them still do. You know Arina is always showing up at the opera and theatres in the capital. Says she’s an important muse.”

I nodded.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, it’s not as if they can take a carriage from the Sanctum, you know? They need a way to get to our world. So there are these doors. I remember one of the footmen saying there’s one somewhere on Salten—for Pontus to use when he’s traveling. You say some sort of magic words and they take you to places, far-off places like that.” He snapped his fingers. “But it’s just a story.”

Such a door must be marked as special, and I’d certainly never seen anything like that on Salten. It was probably nonsense. But…

“Did he ever say where Pontus’s door is?” I asked, cringing at the hope I heard in my voice.

Fisher shook his head. “Forget about it, Annaleigh.” He picked up the basket and shook its contents. “This enough, you think?”