House of Salt and Sorrows(77)

He stopped at the door leading into the garden. Cassius traced his fingers down the wood’s grain, unable to look at me. “You need to know I was going to tell you all of this eventually, Annaleigh, truly I was.”

My guard flared up, gooseflesh scouring my arms. “Tell me what?”

He pushed the door open, letting in a blast of icy wind. “Come with me.”

I dug my feet into the carpet runner. “We can’t go out there like this. We’ll freeze to death in minutes.”

“It won’t take minutes. But I have to be outside.”

“For what?”

He pulled me out after him into the snow. I gasped, my breath squeezed from me as a thousand frozen knives bit in. My feet rebelled, painfully numb with every step I took. The winds sliced through the thin silk of my robe, and my body trembled against his as he dragged me after him.

“Cassius, this is insane!” I protested, shouting to be heard over the gusts.

“I need to be away from the trees. We can’t be under any branches.”

Once in the open, he pressed me flush against the length of his body. I burrowed into his embrace, seeking all the heat he had to offer, propriety be damned. With my head tucked beneath his chin, nestled close to his chest, I couldn’t see what was happening, but it felt as if we were in a sudden waterspout, all wind and icy water droplets. Pressure built in my ears, making my head spin. I sank to my knees, feeling light-headed and sick.

The air was suddenly warm. Balmy, even, and scented with honeysuckle.

I opened my eyes and let out a shriek of disbelief.





We were in an abbey. Somber gray stones soared stories above us, creating a maze of arched colonnades and corridors. The surrounding forest—lush and verdant—crept inside, claiming the pillars as its own. The roof was gone, letting strange pale light filter in. The shadows seemed sharper, as if two sets were imprinted on top of one another. The sky felt just moments before sunrise, even though I knew it to be late at night in Salann.

“What is this place? Where are we?” My voice was no louder than a whisper. The air felt knocked from my chest, and my hands were shaking.

I rubbed my eyes, certain I was still asleep, collapsed near the door of the solarium. This couldn’t be real.

Cassius stepped back from me, looking toward the sky. “This is the House of Seven Moons. We’re in Versia’s abbey.”

Versia. No goddess was more powerful than she. She ruled the night and its skies, bringing darkness across the kingdoms. The stars trailed behind her like jewels on a velvet train. Pontus himself followed after her, a lovesick swain, his waves ever drawn to the beauty of her moon.

“In the Sanctum? That’s not possible. Mortals can’t enter the—”

He quickly shook his head. “No, no, we’re not in the Sanctum. We’re on the island of Lor, in the southeastern corner of Arcannia. This is where the People of the Stars live.”

“Why are— How did we— How did you…” I trailed off, suddenly terrified I was asking the wrong questions. I backed away from him into a stone archway. “What are you?”

His eyes were dark, unreadable. “I’ll answer everything, but first, just trust me….”

Trust him?

I shouldn’t.

But I wanted to.

Cassius moved deeper into the abbey, beckoning me to follow. Directly in front of us, at the end of a long sanctuary, was the altar. There wasn’t a table or shrine to mark it, but the back wall was far too impressive for it to be anything else.

Three wide peaked arches rose from the ground, holding up the wall above them. Seven identical circles formed an empty rose window. Had stained glass once filled them? Now all they framed was a sliver of the moon, perfectly balanced in the top right circle.

Rivulets of water wept down the stone wall like quicksilver, as if beads of moonlit dew flowed out of the very bricks themselves. They trickled into a large crescent-shaped basin behind the altar. It sounded as though we’d been transported into a summer rainstorm.

I stared up at the windows, hypnotized by their perfect symmetry.

“Annaleigh?” Cassius prompted, breaking my gaze. He took out a crystal chalice and dipped it into the silver water. “Hold out your hands.”

The water smelled like fields of wild mint, tickling my nose and making me want to sneeze. As it spilled out onto my swollen knuckles, it left tingling tracks over my skin, sinking in and chilling me, though it wasn’t cold to the touch. Even the thick, humid air couldn’t stop a shiver from racing down my spine.

I flexed my fingers in amazement. The bruises faded as the swelling subsided. Broken, cracked nails were repaired. The pain was suddenly entirely gone.

“Tip forward,” he instructed.

Scooping out another cupful of the silver water, he poured it over the bump at the back of my head. As it sank in, I could feel the last bits of confusion and panic ebb away. He placed the cup back in its carved niche and disappeared behind one of the archways. I rubbed at the fading knot, amazed at how like myself I suddenly felt, as if the water had chased away a phantom presence, leaving just me behind. When he returned with a glass of water, I drank it gratefully.

“What is that?” I asked, pointing to the waterfall wall.

“Have you ever made a wish on the first evening star?”

“Of course.”