House of Salt and Sorrows (Sisters of Salt #1)

I heard the screams before I woke up. But this time it wasn’t my nightmare.

It was Morella.

On the fourth floor, Roland paced outside the bedroom, barred from coming in by some ridiculous notion about where men ought to be during moments of womanly crisis. My sisters surrounded her canopied bed, their faces helpless against the wailing figure in the middle of it.

“Make it stop! Oh, please, Annaleigh, make it stop!”

Morella’s nightgown rode up over her bump, twisting around her body like an eel as she thrashed back and forth in pain. She dripped with sweat and was burning to the touch. I joined her on the bed, trying to calm her writhing.

“Where does it hurt?”

She rubbed her burgeoning belly. “It feels as though I will rip apart!”

“Shhh,” I soothed, stroking her forehead. “You need to calm down. This panic isn’t good for the babies. Rosalie, get a bowl of water and some fresh towels,” I ordered, taking control since no one else had. “Lenore, bring some lotion and lavender oil. Verity and Mercy, see if Cook has some chamomile tea. Honor, find a fresh nightgown, will you?”

They nodded and dashed off. Camille leaned against a bedpost, her fingers knotted together. “What should I do?”

I stripped Morella out of the sodden nightdress and handed it to Camille. She carried it away, holding it out as though it contained the plague.

“What happened?”

“The pain woke me. I could feel them kicking, but it turned into something worse. Almost as if they were fighting. And my skin feels so tight, like a drum. They’re tearing me in two.” She started to sob.

Rosalie returned, carrying a tray. I wiped a towel across Morella’s forehead, making soft noises to calm her.

“Something’s wrong. Something must be wrong,” she howled.

I racked my brain, trying to think what Ava and Octavia would do if they were here now. “It sounds like they’re growing faster than you,” I guessed. “Has anyone sent for a midwife?”

Someone must have thought to do this…but no one replied.

“Hanna!” I cried out. She rushed into the room, her arms full of fresh bed linens. “Have Roland send for the midwife now!” It would be at least half a day before a midwife could get here from Astrea.

Hanna raced out of the room, nearly knocking over Lenore as she entered. She passed me the vial of oil.

“Keep a cool towel on the back of her neck,” I instructed, handing Lenore the water. I warmed the oil between my hands before spreading it across Morella’s stomach. “Lavender will help you relax,” I told her. “Breathe it in. Doesn’t it remind you of a beautiful spring day?”

“There were flower fields near my house when I was a little girl,” Morella whispered, a trace of a smile on her face. “I loved to run through all those petals.”

As I massaged the oil in, a sharp kick jabbed at my hand, and she groaned again.

“Are they fighting to the death?” she asked.

“They’re probably just squabbling for space. It must be rather cozy in there, don’t you think?”

She doubled over, wheezing.

“Shhh, shhh, shhh.” I continued massaging. Something long and sleek, perhaps a back or maybe a leg, rippled out under my hand, and I pushed away the idea that it was a swish of something serpentine.

The babies are healthy, the babies are normal, I silently repeated over and over.

Scooping out a generous dollop of lotion, I rubbed it into the tight skin, softening it and relaxing her in the process. Verity opened the door, and Mercy carried in a tea tray.

“We brought some of the ginger scones you like, Morella,” Mercy said, sliding the tray onto the nightstand. The soothing scent of chamomile wafted from the little kettle. “We thought maybe the babies were hungry.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you both,” Morella murmured around another sharp movement from the twins. “Thank you.”

Once her abdomen was well and truly moisturized, we dressed her in a clean gown and moved her over to the sitting area so Hanna and the triplets could change the bedsheets. Morella nibbled on a scone while watching them work. Honor brushed out her hair with long, comforting strokes.

I noticed tears welled in the corners of her eyes. They were fat and clung to her eyelashes, not like the ones of pain that had raced down her cheeks earlier, eager to be free and spread their misery.

“Morella, what’s wrong?”

“You’ve just been so kind. I never expected that.”

I squeezed her hand. “We’re family, we take care of each other. We want you feeling as good as you can right now. All of us.”

Morella’s breath caught in her throat, and she nodded, averting her gaze to the window. “I wish Ortun was here.”

“He’ll be home tomorrow, I think.”

When he’d left for Vasa, we’d all lined up in the foyer to wish him goodbye. He’d walked right by me, his jaw set in a tense clench.

Morella’s eyes grew pained. “He feels so far away.”

“Even if he was at home, I bet he’d be in the hallway, hiding with Roland,” I told her. “He gets rather squeamish about pregnancy things. I remember Mama teasing him he could stare down a forty-foot wave in nothing but a dinghy without a tremble, but a little bout of morning sickness was enough to send him racing for cover.”

She smoothed her hair back. “I’m just so tired. Would one of you mind helping me back to bed?”

Rosalie wrapped her arms around Morella as they shuffled back to the canopied bed. Morella crawled into the fresh sheets, pulling the duvet up to her chin.

“I just need to rest,” she murmured.

“Do you want us to stay with you while you fall asleep?” Though most of her color was back, her eyes were bright, and I worried there was a fever.

Her eyes fluttered up to the top of the canopy, staring at the great octopus making up the bed frame. Her jaw quivered as she studied it.

“Morella?” I prompted.

“I don’t need you all to stay, but…there is something I wonder if I could ask you to do?”

I sat beside her, careful not to jostle her stomach. “Anything.”

“The Churning Festival is only days away.” She pressed her lips together. “There’s still so much work to be done. I planned on getting to it once I felt better, but I’ve just been so tired the last few weeks. I…I feel as if it’s going to be a disaster. I don’t know how to do any of this. Plan the meals, plan the entertainment. I haven’t even assigned rooms for the guests yet.” She took my hand in hers. “Annaleigh…I just don’t know what to do.”

I heard a low tsking sound from the door. Camille had returned and was leaning against the frame, listening.

“We’ll help, of course. Do you have a list of the guests?”

She nodded. “On my writing desk.”

Honor scurried after it and brought the sheets of paper to the bed.

“Cook and I have gone over the dinner for First Night itself, but there are still the other meals to plan. I’m in over my head, I’m afraid. I’ve never planned anything on this scale.” Morella laughed, but it sounded small and sad. “I’ve never been to anything like this before. I don’t know what’s expected. I don’t want to embarrass Ortun.”

“Don’t worry a thing about it,” I said with more confidence than I felt. “You get some rest now. We’ll go downstairs and take care of everything.”

Camille immediately turned on her heel and left. One by one, everyone else nodded and offered little words of encouragement before heading out. Verity backtracked to the bed to give Morella a kiss on the cheek. I gathered up the papers and her notes and turned to leave.

Glancing over my shoulder, I smiled, seeing Morella ensconced in the bed, holding her belly and talking to the babies. How terrifying to feel as though you might lose something so precious.

“Annaleigh?” Verity called after me.

Morella looked up, surprised she wasn’t alone. She offered me a small smile, bidding me farewell.

After retrieving my robe and running a comb quickly through my hair, I headed down to the Blue Room. There were several familiar names in Morella’s notes. Sterland Henricks and Regnard Forth topped the guest list.

They were two of Papa’s oldest friends and captains under the Thaumas banner. All three attended the naval academy together as young men. It would be good to see them. They were like uncles to us.

There were a few other captains, whom I knew in name only, and a pair of Papa’s clerks from the Vasa offices. I wondered if they would still be welcome after the incident Papa was currently trying to fix.

Running my fingers over the last name on the list, I froze. “Captain Walter Corum.”

Cassius’s father! He must have sent in his response before getting sick. But perhaps the tinctures Cassius picked up had worked and he’d be ready to travel next week. Cassius might even have to accompany him as caretaker.

I looked up and down the corridor, imagining Cassius walking it. Cassius roaming the grounds of Highmoor. Cassius and I sneaking into the solarium to steal kisses under the cover of an enormous frond…

I pushed the thoughts aside. There was a stack of papers to go through, and we’d need all the time we could get. I could lose myself in fevered daydreams later, once everything was managed.

Turning into the Blue Room, I stopped short. My sisters were scattered throughout the room, as if arranged by a portraitist trying to capture everyone in the very best light.

All of them.

Camille stood by the piano, her hand resting on the lid. Rosalie and Ligeia were on the love seat, with arms cozily linked behind their backs. Lenore stood behind them, her fingers perched on Rosalie’s shoulder. Honor posed at the window with an open book in hand, though it was upside down. Mercy and Verity were sprawled out near the fire on a thick rug. They appeared to be deep in a game of jacks, but nothing lay before them.

Everyone looked up as I entered, their heads turning in jerky unison. I blinked at the unnatural movement, and for a terrible second, my other sisters materialized into the scene. Octavia stood in front of Honor, reading the book right side up. Elizabeth sat at the piano, playing a song for Camille to sing. Eulalie was between Verity and Mercy, snatching up a handful of jacks, and Ava was next to Lenore, completing their eerie tableau with her fingertips on Ligeia’s shoulder.

“We’ll take care of everything, Morella,” Camille mimicked, breaking the moment.

Everything returned to normal. Only seven of my sisters were now in the room. I squinted, trying to re-create the monstrous image, but the vision was gone.

“Aren’t you the dutiful daughter today? Taking care of your poor, ailing stepmother, stepping in to oversee First Night. You’ll be volunteering as the Thaumas masthead before we know it.”

I ignored her barbs, joining the triplets in sorting through the notes on the coffee table. “I didn’t see you racing in to help.”

“Nor will I,” she quipped. “She brought this on herself.”

“She can’t help what the babies are doing.”

Camille shrugged. “Such ambitions and all for naught. She dreamt of running this estate, and she can’t even handle putting together Churning. I’m not helping her. Let her fail, and Papa will see what a miserable and useless creature he married.”

“Camille!” Rosalie exclaimed. “Whether you like her or not, that’s hardly a way to speak about our stepmother.”

“She’s no mother of mine.” She stormed out of the parlor. Her pounding footsteps echoed through the hall.

Rosalie blew a strand of hair from her face, glaring at the doorway.

“What set her off?”

“She’s not been getting much sleep,” Lenore murmured.

I sniffed. “Because of the dancing? Why doesn’t she take a night off?”

Lenore picked at her skirt. “She’s desperate to find a beau. Last night, she kept going on and on about how you’d already found someone on Astrea and she was going to be a spinster for the rest of her life.”

“Oh, Camille.” I chewed on the inside of my mouth. Right now there were bigger issues to deal with. I thought of Morella, left alone in that big bed, waiting for Papa’s return. I’d never seen her look so small and lost.

I shook my head. “Churning begins next week. We only have six days to make sure everything is prepared for First Night.”

Ligeia shrugged. “So?”

“Let’s take a break from the dancing—”

“What? No!” Rosalie exploded.

“Just this week, so we can be well rested and focus on making this run as smoothly as possible. You saw how much pain Morella was in. She can’t take on such a large project.”

“We can do all that and still go dancing,” Ligeia protested.

One eyebrow rose up. “Can you really? We all slept past noon today. Again.”

Even Lenore looked upset, crossing her arms over her chest. “So?”

“We need our rest. We’ve all got circles under our eyes and are snapping at each other. It’s not the end of the world. Just one week.”

Rosalie narrowed her eyes. “And we’ll all go dancing after Churning?”

I promised we would.

The triplets exchanged glances.

“Fine,” Rosalie said with a huff that didn’t leave me wholly convinced she meant it.

“What do you need us to do?” Lenore asked.

“If First Night is planned, that leaves nine more dinners for our guests, assuming they don’t spend any nights on Astrea. We’ll need to write up menus. Mercy, Honor, you spend so much time in the kitchen with Cook. Can you take this on?”

They nodded eagerly.

“What about me?” Verity asked.

“You can help me with the East Wing. We’ll make sure the rooms are ready. There ought to be some winter pansies blooming in the solarium. You could make little posies to greet the families when they arrive.”

“I could draw them something too!” she exclaimed.

Remembering the last series of pictures Verity had created, I gave her an encouraging smile but promised nothing.

What else was there? I filtered through memories of Churnings past. “We’ll need some sort of entertainment. Perhaps we could organize some rides through the forest? It looks so lovely in the snow. We’ll also need to be sure to have boats and crew on hand to ferry the guests back and forth to Astrea for all the activities at the festival.”

Every Churning, there was a play showing Pontus mixing the oceans with his great trident. The players created waves using yards and yards of iridescent fabrics. One year, a wave flowed too close to the footlights and caught fire. That was the year Acacia had come to Churning. One of Pontus’s daughters, she summoned a waterspout to rain down its fury upon the flames. When the fire was out, the stage was a mess of puddles and soot, but everyone cheered for the goddess’s quick thinking.

“Can you think of anything else?” Lenore asked.

I twisted the silver ring on my pointer finger. “Remember when we were small and Mama held a Churning contest for the best snow castle?”

“Snow castle?” Honor asked, too little to have taken part. “Like a sandcastle?”

“It was in the garden,” Lenore said with a laugh. “The castles, the seashells, the decorations, everything had to be made of snow!”

“My hands nearly fell off trying to create that moat,” Rosalie reminisced. “Remember all my water kept freezing?”

Ligeia nodded. “And then Greigoff crashed into it and the whole fortress fell apart!”

“Who?” Verity asked.

“Greigoff. He was Mama’s wolfhound. His legs were nearly as long as mine, and he was always tripping over those monster paws,” Rosalie said, giggling. “I’ve never seen a clumsier dog.”

“What happened to him?”

“He died just before Mercy was born. He was nearly fifteen by then and all gray whiskers and beard.”

The room grew somber, tallying another death.

Verity spoke up first. “I would like to build sandcastles in the snow.”

“So would we,” Ligeia said, speaking on behalf of the triplets.

Mercy and Honor nodded.

I smiled. “Good. Why don’t we get breakfast, and then we can start on all the planning afterward?”

“Do you think Morella will be okay?” Honor’s voice sounded pinched, and she dug fingernails into the palm of her hand, worrying.

“She just needs to rest. Growing one baby is hard enough, and she’s got two.”

“I just don’t want her to die,” she admitted quietly. “I don’t want any more of us to die.”

“The midwife will be here soon,” Lenore reminded her. “I’m sure she’ll have something to help with Morella’s pain. And the rest of us are fine.”

“Eulalie was fine, until she wasn’t.”

“That was just a fluke. One terrible, horrible, awful fluke.”

“And the others?” Her voice rang out sharply.

Lenore shrugged at me, asking for help.

Before I could respond, Verity looked down into her lap, twisting her hands till her fingers turned red. “Maybe I should go away.”

I frowned. “Why would you say that?”

When she glanced up, tears shone in her eyes. “I’m the curse. Everything started with me. I killed Mama.”

The triplets rushed to her, kneeling at her feet.

“You did no such thing.”

“That wasn’t your fault, dear heart.”

“There is no curse. Don’t think that way.”

She clasped her hands tighter, her tiny fingernails growing white with pressure. “But if it hadn’t been for me, she’d still be here.”

“We don’t know that,” I said, stroking her hair. “Pontus called her back to the sea then. He would have done that no matter what. And even though we were all very sad about Mama, everyone was so happy to meet you. Papa used to pick you up out of your crib and say, ‘Look at my happy girl, look at that beautiful smile.’ Without you, Verity, we’d just have this awful sadness in our lives. You brought us joy.”

Her lips quivered, and she seemed desperate to believe these words. “I’m glad I was born,” she finally said. “And I’m glad you’re my sisters.”

We all came together in a big group hug. I closed my eyes as my arms folded over Verity, praying nothing would happen to any of us again.