House of Salt and Sorrows(37)

“Like fairies? Like our shoes?”

I nodded, and Mercy and Honor immediately chimed in, saying they wanted to be fairies too.

“What will you be?” Verity asked, looking over the dress in my hands with uncertainty.

I held it up to my shoulders, letting the blue satin dance over my frame. “A midsummer’s night, when the sky is full of sparkling stars and fireflies.”

It had seemed like a lovely idea back in the attic, but now, wearing the dress, I hesitated. Running my hands over the glossy fabric, I was shocked at how my fingers felt every curve and hollow of my waist. I’d worn afternoon gowns with soft trainer corsets before, but they were made of heavy laces and pleated silks, nothing like this bias-cut satin. It embraced every bit of me like a lover’s caress.

“Do you think people will get it?” Camille asked, giving herself a final sweep and opening her fan with a flourish effect. She’d found the dress Mrs. Drexel had mentioned at our last fitting. Though the silhouette was slightly dated, the blood-red satin was so stunning, no one would take notice. A wide sash cascaded down Camille’s shoulder, joining a heavy bustle of rosettes and ribbons. She wrapped a ruby choker around her neck and twisted back and forth to admire the way the candlelight played off it.

Camille had been horribly afraid of fires ever since we were girls. Every fall, the Salann Islands were battered with violent storms, and though Highmoor was dotted with lightning rods—each bearing the Thaumas octopus—it wasn’t wholly immune. During a particularly nasty squall years ago, a fire broke out in the nursery. We were too young to truly remember, but Camille swore she could recall the scent of ozone and charred wood.

“Maybe if you added a touch of flames with your makeup?”

Her eyes lit up. “That’s genius!”

As she crossed to her vanity, the triplets scurried down the hall in scandalously translucent lavender georgette shifts. They claimed to be sea nymphs, and I was suddenly very thankful Papa wasn’t here. We’d never be allowed outside Highmoor again if he caught us.

I eyed the back of my dress in the mirror once more. “Maybe I ought to just wear my green gown.”

“What? No, you look lovely.” She swished a bit of orange glitter up from her eyes. “And I will not have you make us late.”

“It’s just so…” I ran my fingers down the fabric once more.

Camille’s teeth winked from beneath a wicked grin. “Carnal.”

“Exactly.”

There was a soft knock at the door. “Camille? Annaleigh?”

Camille scurried over. “You can’t be up here,” she hissed at Fisher.

He stepped back, not daring to cross the threshold. “I know, I know, but I wanted to bring you something.” He held up his hands, offering a pair of sparkling baubles.

“Masks?” Camille asked, taking one.

“Vendors were selling these outside the palace. Tonight’s dance is a masquerade. We’ll need them to get in.”

“Oh! Thank you, Fisher.” She chose the black domino. Silver sequins danced along the edges, with a plume of peacock feathers off to one side.

She looked at herself in the mirror. “It’s perfect!”

He was wearing the same suit he’d worn to the triplets’ ball, but Rosalie had coiled a bit of metallic green cloth up the sleeve of his jacket. I recognized Verity’s hand in the serpent’s face painted across his own.

“You went with a nightmare,” I said, spotting his childhood fear.

Fisher turned with a smile, then sucked in his breath. “Oh, Annaleigh…” I instantly flushed, feeling his eyes on me. “You look…” He swallowed and held out a mask. “Will this do?”

It was a sparkling little band of tulle, dusted with glitter—just enough to obscure my eyes and cheekbones. Camille came up and tucked the ends into my hair, pinning the fabric in place. It skirted my skin like a whispered promise made in shadows.

“I think we’re all ready,” she said.

Fisher glanced down the hallway, on the lookout for approaching servants. “There’s one more thing.” He darted down the hall and returned with three glasses of wine. “I filched it from the kitchen—thought we might need a little courage.” He raised his glass. “To midnight balls.”

“And satin dresses,” Camille added, hoisting her wine into the air.

They both turned to me expectantly.

“And to dancing. Always to dancing!”



* * *





The moon was a giant blue crescent, lighting our way across the lawn and down the cliff. It hung so low in the sky, I could feel its persistent tug pulling at the water, the waves, even us. A hundred thousand stars sparkled above us, as if vibrating with excitement for the party to come.

The sips of wine had emboldened me, making my steps feel more sure and chasing any worries I’d had to the side.

Once we were in the Grotto, Fisher turned Pontus’s trident, and we watched the wave wall twist and dissolve into the tunnel entrance.

“Remember, you need to latch on to a thought as you’re entering the tunnel,” Fisher warned. “Think about the ball, the invitation. It will take you there, but if something else creeps into your mind, who knows where you might end up.”