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

“That didn’t go quite as I envisioned,” Morella admitted, twisting her fingers in the fullness of her nightgown.

After dinner, Papa and the captains went on a drunken tour of the house, looking for clues to help the lads solve the mystery of the shoes. A butler said they’d fallen asleep in Papa’s study, sprawled across any surface remotely comfortable enough to lie upon.

I knelt beside the chaise, setting out the lotion and oil for her nightly massage. “Not at all.”

She leaned back on the chaise, thrusting her belly out to a more comfortable angle. I could feel the hard bodies of the twins beneath her tight skin and took care not to prod at them too much. For the moment, they appeared to be asleep.

“I’m sure all will be well in the morning.”

Dipping my fingers into the pot of lotion, I concentrated on her calves, wondering how to bring up Papa’s outburst without causing her more distress. Her legs were swollen fatter than stuffed sausages, her ankles nearly unidentifiable.

“I don’t think Papa was serious about that contest, do you?”

My initial instinct was to write it off as a joke. It was insane to think Papa would give away his entire estate to the one who could tell him we were dancing through our slippers. But he’d changed so much in the last few months. His emotions swung from excessive highs to raging lows, like a bobber caught on waves far too large.

“You know him better than I do, I fear.”

Her voice sounded so sad, I raised my eyes to study her face. “Is everything all right, Morella? Between you two, I mean. Papa didn’t mean anything he said when…”

I wasn’t sure what to say to make any of it better. I wished Octavia were here. She’d been so much better at these sorts of things, always ready with the right words.

Morella played with the end of her braid, weaving it through her fingers. “I think so. Everything has been so out of sorts since Eulalie…Ortun hasn’t exactly been himself. He has outbursts…says things he doesn’t mean. It’s his way of grieving, I suppose. That’s all.” She smiled and repeated her last sentence quietly, reassuring herself.

“If you ever wanted to talk about it…” I picked up the other leg, beginning tender ministrations on her foot.

“You’re very kind, Annaleigh. So very different from your sisters.”

“They’re not—”

“I didn’t mean they’re not nice. They are—mostly—but you’ve got a softer heart than any of them. I know we’re not particularly close, you and I, and I’m sure there are times you don’t even like me…but you’ve stepped up so many times for me…the kelp lotion, the massages, planning out this week when it should have been me doing it.”

“You needed your rest.”

She placed her hand on the top of my head, stroking my hair. For the briefest moment, I remembered Mama doing that, and my heart grew tight. “Thank you.”

“I knew it was important to you. I’m sorry tonight was such a disaster.”

Morella shook her head. “I imagine it will be one of those stories we laugh about many years from now.”

“Many, many years from now.”

She closed her eyes, settling further into the pillows as I worked on her foot.

“I wish things could be different,” she admitted softly.

“What do you mean?”

“I know I’ll probably only ever be a stepmother to you, but I wish…You’re the kind of person I wish I could be friends with.”

I stopped the massage. I’d never considered what a lonely life Morella led. She married Papa and moved so far away from all the friends and family she’d ever had. The only people to keep company with now were her servants or stepdaughters. We were too isolated to go into town every day for teas or dinners, but even if we weren’t, who would she visit? Eulalie died so shortly after her arrival, Morella had no time to make friends in Astrea.

“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.