House of Salt and Sorrows

by Erin A. Craig

  “The same, I fear. I actually came to Astrea for some supplies. Roots and herbs. There’s a healer down the road who says they’ll help.”

  “Is it true if you catch scarlet fever, you bleed out of your eyes? That’s why they call it scarlet, right?” Honor asked, leaning across the table in ghoulish glee.

  “Honor!” I exclaimed, mortified.

  Cassius seemed unfazed. He bent in close to her. “Even worse!” He straightened, catching my frown as they giggled. “I had a bit of lunch here and was on my way out when I saw these lovely ladies struggling to be seated. I thought I might step in and offer my assistance.”

  “They couldn’t see us over the counter,” Mercy explained.

  “That’s very kind of you.”

  “The pleasure has been all mine. I had no idea how delightful a— What is this I’m drinking?”

  “Caramel cider!” Verity chimed in.

  “How delightful a caramel cider could be. You look in need of one yourself,” he offered, pulling out a coin.

  “Oh, can I order it?” Mercy asked, snatching at the money before he agreed. “Please?”

  “Me too!” Honor jumped in. “They let you sit in the big stools while you wait.”

  “And me!” Verity cried, not to be outdone.

  They skipped off in utter delight at being allowed to perform such a very grown-up task.

  “How are you?” he asked once the girls were out of earshot. “There’s a weariness here,” he said, gesturing around my eyes.

  I brushed aside his concern. “Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t solve. And you? How is your father, really?”

  “Not good.” Cassius offered me a half smile. “It will be a blessing when it’s over.” He bit his lip. “That came out wrong.”

  I remembered Ava’s last few hours, her gasps for air, her cries for release. “No, I understand what you mean. My sister…”

  He nodded in my silence. “Your younger sisters are thoroughly charming. The little one—Verity?—she looks quite a lot like you.”

  “They didn’t talk your ear off, did they?”

  “Not a bit. I enjoyed the company. The past few weeks have been a rather friendless existence.”

  I murmured something about relating, then paused. It wasn’t exactly as though he’d been stuck on Selkirk the entire time. He had gone to Pelage. To the ball. “I hope not all of them have been without pleasure.”

  When he smiled, his eyes danced, flickering shades of deep blue. “Of course not.”

  “I wasn’t sure if I’d get to see you after…I hoped we’d run into each other again.”

  “Did you?” Cassius bit back a pleased smile.

  Without the sparkling bit of mask to hide behind, my words felt too bold, too brazen, but I remembered what he’d said at the ball. Regret was the darkest nightmare of all. “I really did.”

  His smile turned to a full grin. “I’m glad to hear it.”

  My cheeks burned with pleasure, and I looked away from him, feeling too shy to meet his eyes.

  On the wall behind him was a large tapestry of Arcannia. Each section was woven with a different-colored thread.

  I pointed to it. “Where’s your home?”

  He turned to study the map. “A little bit here, a little bit there. I’ve lived just about everywhere.”

  “A sailor?” I guessed.

  “Something like that.”

  “Which was your favorite?”

  He shifted his chair closer to mine, offering us both a better view of the tapestry. “I liked them all, I suppose.” He gestured to a bold yellow swatch in the middle of the kingdom. “That’s Lambent. I was there for a bit in my childhood. Have you ever been?” I shook my head. “It’s a long, hot desert, with hills of sand as far as the eye can see. The sun beats down, drying everything out.”

  “How do people live like that? So thoroughly cut off from water?”

  “There are oasis springs here and there. And there are great beasts called camels, with giant humps and ungainly legs. They walk like this.” He used his fingers to pantomime a four-legged creature walking across the table. “They carry the People of the Light, worshippers of Vaipany, across the sands.” He pointed to a mountain range, sewn in stitches jagged and blood red. “When I was eight, we spent a brief time in the Cardanian Mountains.”

  My breath sucked in. “That’s where the Tricksters are, isn’t it?”

  Cassius nodded. “And the god of unholy bargains, Viscardi.”

  I winced. Even hearing that name spoken out loud made my head ache. Would the Trickster take it as an invitation to join us? “What was that like?”

  “It’s a poor community. People there make their living picking the Nyxmist plant. Its flowers are bright red, like cranesbill. It only grows there, very high, near the snow line. The oil is prized by healers and is said to cure nearly any sickness. You can instantly tell who in the village harvests the flowers. Their hands are perpetually stained red by a dye the plant secretes.”

  “How awful,” I murmured, imagining a town full of people with bloodied hands. “Is that what they’re called? The People of the Flowers?”

  “The People of the Bones,” he corrected.

  My nose wrinkled. “I don’t think that’s a place I’d care to visit. Why were you there?”

  Cassius laughed. “I wasn’t making bargains, if that’s what you think!” His voice lowered. “My mother had business to attend to.”

  I couldn’t imagine Mama shepherding us around the kingdom, actively pursuing her own livelihood, and was instantly intrigued. “What does she d—”

  “This was my favorite,” he said, cutting me off, and stood up to tap the northernmost section of the map. “Zephyr’s domain. Tiny pockets of postulants make their home on rocky outcrops. They decorate their villages with blue streamers and banners and flags. Dozens of windmills spin all day, their spokes making a grand symphony of clatter.”

  Had he interrupted my question in his excitement, or had he purposefully avoided it? “The People of the Gale,” I supplied, studying him.

  “Yes, exactly!” A clock hanging over the bar chimed the hour. “Is it really three already?” he asked, squinting. “I’m afraid I must be going. I came over on a neighbor’s boat. He swore he’d leave me behind if I was late.”

  “Cassius, I…” As his eyes lit on mine, my thoughts flew from me. I wanted to know more about him, so much more, but as he pulled on his raincoat, my mind was suddenly blank and my mouth empty. “Do you like strudel?”

  His eyes twinkled in amusement, and I wanted to cringe. What had gotten into me? I felt bewitched, as if someone else was in control of my body. Someone who wanted nothing more than to run her fingers through Cassius’s dark hair. Someone who wanted to pull that head full of curls toward her and finally be kissed. Someone who wanted…My cheeks burned as my mind raced with improprieties.

  “Well, that depends,” he replied, his voice light and teasing. “Are you inviting me out for strudel, Annaleigh?”

  “No!” The collar of my dress felt unspeakably tight, and I was certain my cheeks were stained apple red. “I just…There’s a bakery down the road that’s well known for it…if you like that kind of thing.”

  “I love strudel,” he confessed. “Cherry is my favorite, and I find it even better when shared in pleasant company. But I really must go today. Could I meet you there tomorrow?”

  I opened my mouth, eager to accept, but a scream cut me off. It came from outside, followed by shouts for help.

  Cassius leaned over me, peering out the window. For a brief second, I could smell his cologne, warm and amber. As he pulled away, I longed to smell it again.

  He and several patrons rushed out of the tavern. There was another scream, and my blood ran cold. It sounded like Camille. Had something happened to one
of the triplets? The Graces hopped down from the barstools, looking as if they were going to run into the street as well.

  “Stay here,” I told them, throwing my cloak over my shoulders. “At the table. I’ll be right back.”

  A group gathered farther down the street outside the clock shop. I let out a sigh of relief as I saw Camille and all three of the triplets on the outer edge. They clung to each other, tears in their eyes.

  “What’s going on? What happened?” I asked, unable to keep from squeezing their arms, making sure they were all right.

  “He’s dead,” Camille sobbed, trembling hands wrapping around me. “He’s really dead.”

  My heart stopped as I searched the crowd, looking for Fisher. “Where is he?”

  She shook her head and folded herself back into Rosalie, brushing away tears.

  “Fisher?” I called out, pushing my way through the pressing crowd. “Fisher?” My voice cracked, turning into a shriek as I shoved my way to the front of the circle.

  “Annaleigh, no!” Cassius said, suddenly beside me, pulling me back, away from the rain puddle.

  Glancing down, I screamed.

  It wasn’t rain.

  Edgar lay in a growing spread of blood, his body broken and smashed on the cobblestones. His spectacles lay feet away, one of the lenses cracked. Fisher knelt next to him with his ear pressed to Edgar’s chest, searching for signs of life. After a long moment, he looked up at the crowd and sadly shook his head.

  A woman fainted, falling into a deep swoon and causing a flurried commotion as her companions tried to catch her.

  “What happened?”

  “He was at the second-story window and just…fell,” a man near us said, pointing up at the storefront.

  Cassius tried shielding me from the chaos, turning me away from the sight of the body, but I squirmed free.

  “He jumped?”

  The man shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “I heard his sweetheart died recently,” a woman near us mentioned, overhearing our conversation. “It was all too much for the poor man.” She made a tsk of sadness before returning to her business.

  This didn’t make any sense. I’d just spoken with him. We had a plan to meet next week. He wanted to find out what happened to Eulalie. To find out who had…

  Who had killed her.

  I looked up to the sharp pitch of the shop’s roof and the open window, remembering the creaking floorboard. Someone had been up there with him. Edgar hadn’t been alone.

  Whoever pushed Eulalie from the cliffs had been with Edgar before he fell. I was certain of it. Breaking free from Cassius, I rushed toward the shop, ignoring his protests. If I didn’t get up to the second floor right now, I would miss the killer.

  I skirted around where Edgar lay and smashed into Fisher’s chest.

  “Annaleigh, what are you doing?” he asked, grabbing at my wrists to stop me.

  “I need to go in there. To go upstairs. Fisher, you have to help me!”

  “Help you what?”

  “Find the killer! They’re inside!”

  “Killer?” he repeated, fumbling to keep hold of me as I writhed from his grasp. “Annaleigh, there’s no killer. I saw it happen. He jumped.”

  “He was pushed!”

  “No, he wasn’t.”

  “Let go of me!” I screeched, stomping at his feet.

  Fisher’s arms surrounded me, holding in my flailing arms. “Calm down, Annaleigh. You’re making a scene.”

  He pulled me against his chest, and I caught sight of my sisters, their eyes wide with horror. Cassius’s eyebrows were furrowed with concern. Dozens of onlookers surrounding Edgar’s body watched my fit. I let out a shaky breath, feeling myself deflate.

  I turned away, unable to stand their gazes upon me. I looked up to meet Fisher’s eyes, beseeching. “Fisher, I know you’re mad at me, but please? Please come with me and look? I was visiting Edgar earlier. We heard a floorboard creak upstairs. Someone was there. Someone was listening to us! I have to know who.”

  “I’m not mad at you, Annaleigh. I—I’ve been embarrassed about what happened, but not mad. I could never be mad at you.”

  “Then help me, please? We need to find them before they get away.”

  He raked his fingers through his hair with a loud sigh. “I’ll go look. But I promise, there was no one at the window but Edgar. Stay here.”

  “Be careful!” I called after him.

  Now alone on the steps of the shop, I didn’t know what to do. A group of men covered Edgar’s body with a sheet and pushed the crowds back onto the sidewalk. I wanted to join my sisters and Cassius, but suddenly I was terrified of getting too close to the body. The white sheet was quickly turning red. I turned away, studying the display of pocket watches in the window as tears sprang to my eyes.

  He hadn’t jumped. He couldn’t have.

  Fisher returned moments later, his eyes dark as he shook his head. “I’m sorry, Annaleigh. No one was there.”

  “Someone was there!” I repeated hours later, nearly shouting in frustration, as Camille sat at her vanity, playing with a new color of blush. She swirled the brush over her cheeks, turning them a creamy shade of peach. “You can’t possibly be going dancing tonight.”

  “Why? Because Edgar killed himself? I never thought of him in life; I should hardly be expected to grieve him in death.”

  “You were crying this afternoon. I saw you!”

  “It was upsetting. It’s not as though people hurl to their deaths every time I make a trip to the market.”

  I took the pot of color from her. “Please don’t go. Stay home with me.”

  She arched her eyebrow. “I will not. And you shouldn’t either. Come with us and forget about everything.” She smirked, applying a generous swish of color to her lips. “Of course, I suppose you wouldn’t want to forget everything about today.” She handed me a sparkling necklace. Tonight’s theme was the Jewels of Court, and she was wearing the rose-gold dress from the triplets’ ball. “Can you fasten that for me? The clasp is so tiny.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? What shouldn’t I forget?”

  Her smile was sly and knowing. “I saw you through the tavern windows before…Edgar. Alone with that boy.”

  “The Graces were at the counter, getting cider.”

  I settled the paste jewels against the hollow of her throat.

  “You looked awfully happy to be talking about cider. Who is he, anyway?”

  “You’re not ready yet?” Ligeia asked, striding in. “We’re going to miss the first quadrille!”

  “I’m ready,” Camille said, standing with a twirl.

  “I’m not going.”

  Ligeia’s face fell. “Why not?”

  I cast the blush aside. “We saw a man die today. How can you possibly want to go dancing?”

  “We didn’t really see him die. He was already dead. Besides, we finally have new shoes.”

  I toyed with a little hangnail on my ring finger. A fat drop of blood welled up as I ripped it free. “They’re not broken in. You’ll get blisters.”

  Camille handed me a handkerchief. “Then we’ll get blisters. Go off to bed, then, spoilsport.” She kissed my cheek good night. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

  I tried one last tactic. “You look as though you could use a good night’s sleep as well.”

  Despite the swipe of color across her cheeks, dark circles remained under her eyes, purple and splotchy against her pale skin.

  “I’ll do that. Tomorrow.”

  Camille grabbed her reticule and turned off her sconces, plunging the hall into total darkness, save for my candle’s glow. She and Ligeia slipped down the back stairs, heading to meet Rosalie and Lenore in the garden.

  Furtive giggling escaped from Mercy’
s room. No doubt she, Honor, and Verity were up to some mischief. I listened at the door for a long moment, wondering if I should break up their fun. There was humming and laughter and Mercy counting out beats above it all.

  “And one, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three, turn.”

  Even they were dancing tonight.

  After lighting the candelabras on either side of my bed, I hung up my dinner dress and put on a clean nightgown. It was soft voile, dotted along the neckline and sleeves with bands of embroidered snowdrops.

  At my own vanity, I took out a handful of hairpins and combed through my twisted locks. Mama said brushing your hair before bed not only left it radiant but also helped untangle pent-up thoughts from the day, ensuring relaxed and peaceful slumber. I wasn’t sure how many strokes it would take to unravel this particular tangle. I feared I’d never get the image of Edgar’s broken spectacles from my mind.

  The silver brush caught the candlelight, hypnotizing me through the mirror as it swooped over my dark locks. Had I made a mistake, not going with my sisters? I was too alone with my thoughts here. If I’d gone dancing, I’d at least have been too busy to stew.

  Someone ran past my door, snapping me from my reverie.

  I poked my head out, looking down the dark corridor. A burst of giggles sounded from the back stairs. With a tired sigh, I headed toward them. I’d catch the Graces in whatever game they were playing, send them to bed, then go to sleep myself. It was far too late for such nonsense.

  I scurried down the hall, hoping to stop them before they woke the whole house. As I stepped on the first tread, I heard laughter from behind me. I whirled around, holding my candle out, but no one was there. Peering into the darkness, I squinted, but the shadows remained still.

  “Verity?” I could always count on her to crack first.

  Silence.

  “Mercy? Honor? This isn’t funny.”

  Solid thumps, like bare feet running down steps, came from below. How had they doubled back to the stairs without my catching them? Irritation mounting, I raced after them.