House of Salt and Sorrows(64)

I nodded, unsure if she’d share any further.

“But…there was a man, before all that, who I fancied quite a lot. Our eyes would catch across a crowded room and send such delicious shivers down my spine. I was much younger, not more than a blushing schoolgirl, really, but I knew I wanted him.”

I leaned in. “And did he return your feelings?”

She nodded, a red stain creeping into her cheeks even now. “I probably shouldn’t go into those details with my husband’s daughter.”

I bit the inside of my cheek and decided to be brave. “But if you weren’t with your husband’s daughter…if you were just talking with your friend?”

Her eyes lit up, and she looked happier than I’d seen her in weeks. “If I was talking with my friend, I’d tell her if she wants something, she should go after it with all her heart.”

I nodded, matching her smile. “Good. I’ll make sure to tell her that. Your friend.”

“Oh, Annaleigh,” she called out as I was leaving. “There’s a book on my nightstand.”

I found the novel and offered it to her, but she pushed it back into my hands.

“I finished it already. It was so wonderful, I stayed up for hours reading it. You would enjoy it. Maybe when you’re done, we could discuss it? I…I really enjoyed talking with my friend tonight.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond. After all the preparations for Churning, then the unfortunate First Night dinner itself, I was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and go to sleep.

But her eyes looked so hopeful. She wanted a friend. Needed one badly. And this book was her way of extending an olive branch. I could make it through one chapter, surely.

“I’d like that,” I murmured. “I hope you have a good night, Morella.” As I crossed the threshold, I turned, certain she’d said something, but her eyes were closed.





They released the whales first as the Churning pageant began.

The floating silk lanterns, shaped as orcas and belugas, lit the stage with a luminous golden glow. Somewhere in the wings, a mangled horn bellowed out notes, sounding eerily similar to a humpback’s calls. Actors tied the lanterns’ ropes to bits of scenery painted like a coral reef.

Next came puppets of sharks and sailfish, then squid and starfish dyed red and orange and elaborately articulated. Waves of fish, each tied to an individual line, swam out. The puppeteers were true artists, making the fish shift at the same time, just as a real school would. The glittering silver fins reflected the light of the silk balloons above.

A drumbeat sounded, booming so loudly I thought my sternum might shatter. Another and another built toward a raucous climax. I felt the audience shift its attention to the ducal box, stealing quick peeks at our family’s reaction as the final sea creature emerged onstage.

Purple tentacles shot out of a small rock, each manipulated by children dressed in black. The head popped free, buoyant with hot air and steam. The Thaumas octopus spread across the stage, performing an elaborate dance timed to the music. At the end, on the final beat, its eyes lit up, piercing and bright.

The audience erupted in applause. As the puppeteers shifted to the next scene in the pageant, I glanced at the Graces. They were enraptured, leaning on the box railing so they wouldn’t miss a moment.

“How impressive,” whispered Morella, next to me.

Our guests murmured their agreement, and I was pleased to see Papa put his hand on her knee and give it an affectionate squeeze.

It had been a wonderful day. We sailed to Astrea after breakfast and spent the afternoon taking part in the festival’s many delights. We watched local fishermen bring silver hooks to Pontus’s altar as thanks for a bounteous season. Throughout the week, the hooks would be made into nautical sculptures by artists and displayed in the streets during Churnings to come. At night, they shone in the dark, brushed with glowing algae harvested from the bay.

We stuffed ourselves with treats from street vendors. Spun-sugar sea glass, glazed almond cookies shaped like sand dollars, roasted corn, and bowls of thick clam chowder were offered on every corner, along with more exotic fare: red frog crabs and whelks, jellyfish jerky and sea urchins. The children raced up and down the beach with silk kites painted like stingrays and seahorses. Glass orbs were strung across the town square like humpbacks’ bubble nets.

At the end of the pageant, the actor playing Pontus stepped forward and announced there would be a grand fireworks display at midnight, just two hours away.

“May we stay, Papa?” Mercy asked, shifting in her seat. “Oh, please?”

The rest of the girls joined in, begging and beguiling. Their voices rose to a clamor before Papa raised his hands and looked to the other adults for their thoughts. Seeing the round of nods, he smiled at the group. “Fireworks it is!”

“It’s getting a bit chilly, don’t you think, Ortun?” Regnard asked, slapping him across the back. “What say we while the time away in that tavern I saw just down the road? A round of Tangled Sirens for everyone!”

Tangled Sirens were special drinks, served only at Churning. A mixture of spirits and bitters, they boasted a tangy kick of salted kelp.

“I never could stomach those. You men go off and enjoy yourselves,” Amelia suggested. “Come, ladies, isn’t there a bakery not far from here?”