House of Salt and Sorrows

by Erin A. Craig

  “We’re friends,” I tried, but knew we weren’t, not really. Not the kind of friend she obviously yearned for.

  She offered me a small, tight smile. “Good.”

  I rubbed small drops of the lavender oil into her wrists, then her temples, then her feet. Finally, I brought my hands to her nose, cupping them as the midwife had shown me. “Breathe in,” I instructed.

  She took three long breaths, her eyes soft and sleepy. “I will rest very well tonight. I might even be up for going to Astrea tomorrow with the group.”

  I was surprised Morella would want to make the trip over. She’d not left the house since the triplets’ ball, and I would have thought all the festival’s activities would have been too much for her.

  “Do you want me to help you over to the bed?”

  “No, I think I’ll stay here awhile longer. Ortun may still come up.”

  I arranged the balms back on the tray and carried it to the vanity. It bumped into a little glass bauble, and I scrambled to catch it before it shattered. It was a nearly perfect sphere of glass, with one side filed down so it wouldn’t roll. Encased within it, suspended in ageless perfection, was a little red flower, a puff of tiny frilled petals.

  I twisted it around. “Pretty.”

  “My father gave that to me for my fifth birthday. I’ve always kept it with me wherever I’ve gone.”

  It was a wonder the little ornament was still intact. Suseally—Morella’s birthplace—was hundreds of miles inland. She had given up all she knew to follow Papa to Salann, trading in fields of flowers and wooded brambles for our unending waves and rocky shores. I couldn’t imagine ever moving so far from my sisters, no matter how besotted I might be.

  I set the sphere back on the vanity and spotted Morella’s wedding bands sitting in a ring dish. Her fingers had grown too swollen to wear them. I tapped my finger against the engagement ring. “How did you know that Papa was the one for you?”

  Morella looked uneasy.

  “When you first…before you were courting. How did you know if he was interested in you?”

  She smiled. “Has one of the gentlemen from tonight caught your eye?”

  I pushed aside thoughts of Cassius’s smile with a shrug. “Maybe. I don’t know. I thought…I’d hoped he might be interested in me. Romantically, you know. But now I’m not sure at all.”

  She shifted her legs, patting a spot on the chaise for me to join her. “Tell me all about it.”

  My face fell. “I’m not really sure how much there is to tell. He…he paid me a few compliments, but when Papa announced that contest—”

  She shook her head, smirking. “That stupid, stupid contest.”

  “Camille is far prettier than me, and she’ll inherit the estate someday. And I’m just…me.”

  Morella rubbed my hand in hers. “Then he’s a fool.”

  I was strangely pleased she thought well of me. “What was your courtship with Papa like?”

  Her smile froze for a moment, and I feared I’d pried too deeply, too fast.

  “Well, our courtship was a bit unconventional. He was in Suseally for such a short period of time. It happened very fast.”

  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?”

  The little girls groaned, wanting to be out in the spectacle of Churning for as long as they could.

  I caught the look in Morella’s eyes. It had been a long day for her, and though she’d not complained, her feet must be aching. “I saw a vendor selling flavored ices near the sculptures in the park. Who wants stuffy cake and tea when we can have shaved ice and cream? My treat!”

  With a squeal, the girls darted off down a side street. Lenore and Ligeia ran after them, trying to keep the five in line. Camille followed several paces behind, more interested in the brightly lit shopwindows than the celebration around her. Rosalie winked at Ethan before sauntering away, clearly hoping he’d trail after her.

  “We’ll join you later,” I promised the older women. “Just before the fireworks start.”

  Morella linked arms with Rebecca as they headed off. I remembered how lonely she’d been the night before, and my heart smiled for her. Maybe she would make friends this week after all.

  Papa released a scattering of coins into my hand. “For your ices.”

  My mouth dropped open. “This would buy shaved ice for years.” I tried to give the gold florettes back, but he waved me off. His eyes looked wild in the moonlight.

  “Then spend it on something else, my sweet. It’s a celebration. Tonight is for extravagance.”

  The captains and clerks hollered a bawdy cry behind him. Papa swung a brotherly arm around Sterland, heading inside. Cassius was the last one out. At the threshold, he looked over his shoulder.

  “What am I about to get into?”

  His eyes danced, and I swear he winked at me. I wanted to believe it was more than a trick of the light, but his comment about the contest last night still stung.

  “Don’t let the Sirens lure you too far. I’ve heard they’re potent.”

  I turned and hurried after my sisters. The men’s shouts echoed through the streets. They weren’t the only revelers this night, but they were certainly the loudest.

  The park had been transformed into the staging area for an ice sculpture contest. Glittering forms rose up into the night, lit with focused lanterns. Most shone a soft white, but others had colored gels in them, casting brilliant tones on the crystal statues.

  I found the girls circled around an icy palace in the center of the park, pointing out startling details. Frosted flags spun in the breeze, hinged with little bits of metal. The brick edges were softly rounded, making the architecture flow with a dreamy swirl.

  “Look at the tridents on the bridge!” one of the Morganstin girls said. “Just like in the play!”

  “This is Pontus’s castle,” Mercy explained. “He carries a great trident with him wherever he goes.”

  “I thought he lived in the ocean. There aren’t castles in the ocean.”

  “He lives in the Brine,” I said, stepping in. “It’s a part of the Sanctum, where the gods live, which is broken into different kingdoms. Pontus gets the Brine, Vaipany the Corona, Arina the Ardor…. Didn’t your parents teach you this?”

  They shook their heads.

  “Ooh, look!” Verity cried, pointing behind us and ending the conversation.

  Swaths of blue linen hung from a semicircle of trees. In the middle of the grove, an old woman had a series of curious metal boxes. Pinprick holes were hammered into their sides, and as she inserted lanterns into the boxes, dazzling images were projected onto the cloth strips. With a touch of her finger, the boxes spun. Dolphins leapt in and out of waves, seagulls soared by with wings flapping, and great puffs of air plumed from breaching whales.

  A crowd gathered around her, applauding, as she created her illusions. Farther down the street, on the veranda of another tavern, a group of fishermen burst into a lusty sea chantey.

  “I love Churning,” Rosalie whispered, her shoulder bumping into mine as we shared this special moment.

  Her eyes caught sight of something in the mob of people. I followed her gaze. Not something. Someone. Ethan waved at her from the corner, and I saw Jules and Captain Morganstin among the crowd. They must have come to see what the commotion was all about.

  “I think I’m just going to…” She trailed off, unable to come up with a plausible excuse to leave.

  “Yes…I think you’d better just,” I teased her, pushing her away with a knowing smile.

  She slipped through the throng and was across the street before I could blink.

  There was a titter of giggles to my left, and I turned to see Camille throwing her head back in laughter at something Fisher said. He must have come over from the pub as well.

  Just beyond them, a man stood, his slim form cast in dark silhouette against the colorful lights. Though I couldn’t be entirely certain, I felt his eyes fall on me, his gaze a tangible pressure. As I stared, a memory clinked loose in the back of my mind.

  “I know him,” I whispered.

  “Hmm?” Ligeia asked, drawing her attention from the light box show.

  “That man over there. I recognize him, but I’m not sure from where.”

  As if he sensed I was talking about him, he raised his chin, beckoning me over.

  “What man? There’re men everywhere,” Ligeia said, sweeping her eyes over the crowd. “Oh, look at the waves!” she exclaimed, turning back to the performance.

  “It’s gotten too crowded for me,” I said, pressing one of the coins into her hand. “Can you watch the girls? I need to get some fresh air.”

  She nodded, and I weaved my way through the crowds, fighting through even more onlookers as they joined the show. When I reached the spot in the park where the dark figure had stood, he was gone.

  I turned in a circle, trying to spot anyone with his unusually tall carriage. A shadow moved against the trees at the edge of the park, the figure’s silver hair catching in the moonlight. He looked back once as if to make certain I was following him.

  As he turned, the gas lamps briefly illuminated his jacket, reflecting the golden threads embroidered across the right shoulder.

  A three-headed dragon.

  It was the man from the first ball, in Pelage.

  What was he doing in Astrea?

  Curious, I ducked down a narrow alley, and then another, unsure of where I was headed. Every time I thought I was catching up, I caught a glimpse of the dragon man’s coat disappearing down another street. In the dark, with the decorations for Churning, I soon became completely turned around. I pushed through the long strands of sea glass beads and ropes of fake pearls that formed a curtain across the alley’s exit.

  The street I emerged onto looked different from the harbor or the town square.

  Darker, dirtier.

  Danker too.

  The first storefront I saw was bathed in a pink glow, and my stomach turned as I guessed at what merchandise was sold behind such lurid trappings. Several other pink houses lined the street. Some had girls in the windows, waving and posing. Others were awash with tinsel and gaudy paste jewels.

  The dragon man was gone, vanished into thin air, and as I glanced about, trying to get my bearings, I wondered why I’d ever followed him in the first place.

  As I turned to head back, a pack of young women traipsed out from one of the pink houses, s
topping just in front of the alleyway. They were made up as Sirens. Long curls cascaded down bare backs, their goose-bumped skin painted with bronze and silver glitter. Sand dollars and starfish covered their breasts, but just barely, and too few gauzy green ribbons made up their skirts. Some wore heels with impossibly high platforms. Others carried parasols done up as illuminated jellyfish over their shoulders.

  “You there!” one called out, and I instantly felt my face flush, horrified she was speaking to me. “Come to drop anchor, sailor?”

  A trio of laughter sounded behind me, and the women broke ranks to stare down these potential customers. I ducked back into the alley, my heart pounding in my throat.

  “You’re a long way from the park, aren’t you?” a voice murmured in my ear.

  I let out a startled shriek, certain the dragon man had doubled back to surprise me, but instead Cassius stood in the alleyway, his blue eyes shrouded in shadows.

  “I could say the same for you. I thought you were with Papa.”

  He pushed a lock of hair from his eyes, his nose wrinkling even as he smiled. “Tangled Sirens aren’t exactly to my taste. Ivor and Jules started in on the mystery of the shoes again, and I got out while I could. I saw you leaving the park in a rush and thought you might need help.”

  I glanced down the alleyway, but the dragon man was truly gone. “Do you know how to get back to the park? I’m afraid I’m all muddled.”

  His smile warmed. “Let’s find our way together.”

  We headed down the alley, escaping from the street of pink houses. Coming out onto the next road, Cassius stepped on a sheet of black ice and slipped. He grabbed at me instinctively, and I struggled to hold him up, but we both spun, then crashed to the ground in a tangle of cloaks and limbs.

  “Are you all right?”

  His voice was tinged with real concern, but I brushed it aside with a laugh. We’d been far more graceful on the dance floor. “I’m fine. Are you hurt?”