House of Salt and Sorrows(43)

I pushed the last traces of sleep from my eyes. “I don’t know. Mama said she thought we’d all be boys too.”

Hanna crossed to my armoire and pulled out a blue gown. “She’s carrying so high, I think it must be girls. But she’s so sure….” She shook her head. “I fear she’s bound to be disappointed.” She caught herself and smiled at me. “Not that any of you were ever a disappointment.”

I pulled the sodden nightgown over my head before stepping into the dress she held out.

“Speaking of sons…” Her smile flattened with a wisp of sadness. “You’ve spent some time with Fisher since he got back, haven’t you?”

“A little,” I murmured uneasily.

In truth, I’d not spoken with him since that night in Pelage. When our paths did cross, he’d abruptly turn down another hall, ignoring my pleas. I tried sneaking into the servants’ wing to corner him in his bedroom, but he seemed to hear me coming every time. I always found the room dark and empty.

He’d even stopped coming to the balls, despite the triplets’ most fervent begging.

Using the vanity mirror, I watched her expression as she buttoned up the dress. Her forehead seemed to have more worry lines than usual. “Is everything all right, Hanna?”

“Oh, fine, fine. It’s to be expected, I suppose. It’s the first bit of free time he’s had in ages. It was silly to think he’d want to spend every spare second with me.”

I frowned. If he wasn’t at the balls and he wasn’t with Hanna, where was he spending all his time?

Hanna ran a hand down my back, smoothing out the bodice. “But I forget he’s not a little boy anymore.” She patted my cheek once. “Your mother was lucky to have so many girls. Morella ought to pray Pontus gives her daughters instead.”



* * *





“You’re home! You’re home!”

Verity, Mercy, and Rosalie raced down the stairs and straight into Papa’s arms, tumbling over each other.

“Can we use the catboat today?” Rosalie asked without preamble.

“Not in this soup. Haven’t you been outside?” He paused, looking Rosalie over. “You’re still in your nightgown.” He turned to me. “Is she sick?”

I opened my mouth but froze. I was terrible at lying.

“Just had a bit of a slow start this morning,” Rosalie filled in.

“This morning? It’s after three. At least you two are dressed,” he replied, picking up the little girls by their sashes as they squealed and giggled. “What do you need the cat for?”

Rosalie blanched. “We need to go into town for…supplies.”

“Supplies?”

“Shoes!” Mercy gasped, shrieking as he swung her.

He set them down, as out of breath as they were. “Shoes? For who?”

“All of us!” Verity spun down the hall, her excitement too big to be contained by a body so small. Mercy and Rosalie were fast on her heels, leaving echoes of laughter in their wake.

I glanced up at my father’s profile, pleased it was finally just the two of us. “Papa, there’s something I wanted to speak to you about.”

He seemed surprised to see me still beside him. “Surely you don’t need shoes too?”

My toes squirmed barefoot against the mosaic tiles. “I do, but that’s not what— It’s about Eulalie….”

Papa’s face hardened. I’d have to tread carefully. This wasn’t something he’d want to hear about.

“What about her?”

My fingernails dug sharply into my palms. I needed to come out and say it. “It’s about her suitors.”

“Welcome home, Papa!” Camille said, emerging from the Blue Room as though she’d been practicing at the piano for hours and had not just raced out of bed.

“Just a minute, Camille. Papa and I were talking about—”

“I just wanted to say hello.” She stood on tiptoe to give him a hug. “How was the trip? How is the King? Did you—”

“Camille!” I exclaimed.

Papa held up his hands, stopping the quarrel before it could start. “The trip was fine. King Alderon hopes you’ll join our next council meeting, Camille. I’ll fill you in on the details once I’m settled.”

She beamed, pleased to have gotten her way.

He turned back to me. “What’s this about suitors, Annaleigh?”

Camille’s smile faded. “Suitors? For whom?”

“Eulalie,” Papa said, his tone darkening.

The weight of their gazes fell heavily on me.

“Is this about that watchmaker? I told you it was just some stupid fantasy he made up to—”

“Watchmaker?” Papa interrupted.

“It’s not about Edgar, and please, Camille, will you leave us alone?” I pleaded, raising my voice to be heard above them.

Though she stalked into the Blue Room, a bit of her skirt protruded from the archway. She was obviously eavesdropping.

“I keep wondering about Eulalie,” I said, turning to Papa. “I think someone was with her on the cliff walk that night.”

Papa sighed. “When someone dies unexpectedly, it’s normal to want to find someone to blame.”