House of Salt and Sorrows(58)

“If Papa hears you talking like that, he’s going to take away every one of your romance novels and burn them.”

“Don’t be crabby, Annaleigh. It’s Churning. We’re allowed to be a little brazen, aren’t we?” said Rosalie. “Besides, you might be fending off a mizzenmast of your own. Cassius may be no sailor, but he’s not awful to look at.”

“I don’t think he’s—”

“No, he definitely is interested in you,” Ligeia jumped in. “You didn’t see it because you were talking with Amelia, but the whole time he was with Papa, he couldn’t keep his eyes off you.”

“Who’s he sitting next to at dinner?”

“Me,” Camille said, sidling in. “I assume you’re all in a tizzy over Captain Corum’s son? I saw the seating chart. Annaleigh placed me next to the captain. You’re not going to swap things around now that it’s his son instead, are you?”

She arched an eyebrow at me, daring me to say I would, and I found myself longing to give her braid a good yank, like when we were girls. I didn’t care how tired she was. She’d done it to herself while leaving all the hard work to us.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I muttered.

“Wonderful. Now that that’s settled, I need to start getting ready for dinner. I’ll certainly want to look my best.” She waltzed up the stairs, humming a little song to herself.

“Don’t let her get to you,” Lenore said. “She’s been upset she didn’t help more.”

“She didn’t help at all.”

Lenore tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “And she knows that as first daughter, she should have. She’s worried Papa will think badly of her.”

Ligeia nodded as we reached the second landing. “Do you want to get ready with us? So you don’t have to deal with her?”

“No. I’m not letting her bother me. Besides, I need to make sure the Graces are getting ready too.”

“You should wear your green dress tonight,” Rosalie said.

“The one from your ball?”

She nodded. “It’s just the right shade, and you look like a mermaid in it. What could be more perfect for Churning?”

My mind raced, conjuring up Cassius’s face as I glided into the great hall wearing that dress. My chest grew warm, and the flush raced up my cheeks as I pictured his eyes working over me. “You don’t think it’s too much?”

“Not for First Night,” Ligeia said. “Cassius won’t even notice whatever Camille comes down in.”

I sputtered. “That’s not what I—”

“Just put on the dress, Annaleigh,” Lenore said, pushing me toward the stairs.





“We, the People of the Salt, come together on this special night,” the High Mariner intoned, “to give our thanks to mighty Pontus for his great benevolence, blessing us with a season of bountiful plenty. Our fishermen’s nets—filled to bursting. Our winds—strong and sure. And the stars—clear and true. Now he churns the waters, changing the season over to a time of rest, replenishing the sea, taking care of us as he has for thousands of years.”

“Pontus, we thank you,” we echoed together.

We sat at the long table in the great hall, waiting for the ceremony to end and the seventh course to be served. Papa and Morella were at the head of the table, and my sisters and I were sprinkled among the guests. Unfortunately for me, Ivor sat at my left. I’d caught him sneaking looks down my neckline twice already.

The High Mariner stood behind his own table. Across it lay an assortment of items. I recognized his abalone chalice, filled once again with seawater. A conch rested on its wicked points, showing off its polished pink core. There were urchins, purple and spiny, and great sea stars, long since dead but preserved and buffed till their orange arms glowed.

“We, the People of the Salt, come together on this special night to commemorate the souls of those snatched too soon from us, who now rest in the waves’ powerful embrace.”

He meant sailors lost in storms or fishing accidents, but as I glanced over at my family, I knew we were all thinking of our missing sisters.

“Dear ones, you are commemorated.”

“We, the People of the Salt, come together on this special night,” he repeated, bringing home his oration, “to remember who we are. We who make our homes on the Salann Islands are a proud people, ruled over by a proud god. We are born of salt and starlight. Let us now drink to that, to remember where we come from and where—Pontus willing—we shall return.”

This was the only part of First Night I hated.

Everyone took up the small snifter nestled inconspicuously among the water goblets and wineglasses. Cassius, across from me but two people down, delayed his response to the High Mariner’s invitation. He was clearly not an islander.

I tossed back the thimbleful of salt water and swallowed fast, trying to keep the brackish taste off my tongue. It lingered, tart and biting. I set the snifter back down with a grimace, as did most of the table. Cassius wiped his mouth with a napkin and appeared to spit the water into it. He caught me staring and put a swift finger to his lips, warning me to keep his secret. I nearly forgot to say the last of our lines.

“We remember.”