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

When I opened my eyes, Highmoor loomed in front of us, a dark, watchful monolith. But it didn’t look like the home I knew and loved. It looked like a beast ready to devour me.

We arrived at the far side of the hedge maze just as the winds were picking up. It was disconcerting to be in the midst of a storm one minute and to see it approaching from far away the next. Clouds churned as the storm picked up strength over the Kaleic. When it finally hit Salten, it would be much, much worse.

A ball of worry gnawed deep within me. Would anyone believe us? The story sounded completely outlandish. If I hadn’t seen it for myself, I would never have thought it possible. I leaned into Cassius’s warmth, wishing it was enough to set everything right again.

“Did you really mean what you told Kosamaras? Up in the lighthouse? About me?”

“You are my world,” Cassius said solemnly, without a moment’s hesitation.

“And you are mine,” I echoed.

He reached out to run his fingers through my locks, gathering a dark mass of them between his hands before kissing my forehead with gentle lips. Just once. It made me feel warm, protected, and cherished.

“We’re going to get through this. You and I. Together.”

I took a deep, steadying breath. “Then let’s get inside.”

In what now felt like another lifetime, my sisters and I had loved to watch approaching storms in the Blue Room. We’d curl up on the couches with tea or cocoa, wrapped in blankets and laughter. Those days were long gone, but perhaps everyone had still gathered out of habit.

My stomach churned with every step. My nerves were raw, sensitive to the slightest movement around us. When a maid opened the door to the linen closet, I nearly jumped out of my skin.

As we entered the drawing room, everyone looked up. For a moment, the room was full, crowded with even my long-dead sisters. Ava stood in concern, her hand clutched to her spotted bosom, and the triplets were reunited once more, though Lenore seemed not to notice her frozen sisters sharing the chaise. I blinked hard, clearing away Kosamaras’s tricks.

“Thank Pontus!” Papa cried, crossing the room in three great strides to embrace me. Over his shoulder, Sterland perched on the end of a sofa and stiffened. “Where have you been? We’ve been so worried!” He looked past me, searching. “But where’s Verity?”

I counted my remaining sisters. Camille in an armchair near the fire. Lenore on the chaise. Mercy and Honor on the floor with a picture book between them.

“What do you mean? Verity wasn’t with us.”

“She never came down for breakfast. When we went upstairs, her room was empty, as was yours. We thought she was with you. Where have you been?”

A wave of nausea swept over me as I envisioned my sister’s tiny body laid out in the snow, another victim of Viscardi’s bargaining and Kosamaras’s beguiling.

Camille made a small noise, a sound of horror lodged deep in her throat. “Oh, Annaleigh, what have you done?”

Gasps rose around the room, and Camille leaned forward, her eyes hot and accusing.

I felt as though the floor had dropped out from beneath my feet. “What do you mean?”

“Where is she? What did you do to Verity?”

“Do? Nothing! I was on Hesperus, relighting Old Maude’s beacon. Silas died in his sleep…. And Fisher…”

Papa’s face grew hard with confusion. “Fisher died weeks ago, Annaleigh.”

“No…I mean, yes, he did, but we didn’t know until—”

“Know?” Camille repeated. “There was an accident on Hesperus. One of the oil cans exploded…. We went to his funeral. Don’t you remember? You cried the whole way there.”

“And back,” Mercy added.

“What?” I heard their words, understood each one’s individual meaning, but when they were put together—when they were strung together in an accusation—it was like hearing an unfamiliar language.

And then I heard the laughter.

It started in the corner of the room, growing louder and deeper until the cackles rang across the arched ceiling, threatening to bring it crumbling down. But no one else looked up. I turned to Cassius, silently pleading for help, but he only shrugged. He didn’t hear it either.

“Kosamaras is behind everything! She’s making you misremember—all of you.”

Papa and Camille exchanged uncomfortable glances. “That doesn’t make any sense, Annaleigh. Why would a Harbinger be here?”

I balled my hands into fists, wanting to shriek. How could they not see this? “She’s messing with your memories. That funeral never happened. Fisher has been here since the triplets’ ball.”

“Annaleigh, you know he hasn’t.” Camille stood up. “You’ve been acting strange for weeks. First with Eulalie, then that whole scene in the marketplace with Edgar. And I thought it must have been terrible for you, finding both their bodies. Then Rosalie and Ligeia went missing—only to be found, again, by you. And I tried to push away the thoughts, the wonderings. I tried to tell myself you’d never hurt one of us. You loved us too much. But now Verity? Annaleigh, how could you?”

My mouth dropped open. “You can’t believe that. You’re not seeing things clearly.”

Camille crossed over to me, each step a fresh threat. “You’ve been blaming the curse, but it was you all along, wasn’t it?”

I wanted to flee but was frozen in place, too shocked to react. Even though I knew Kosamaras was playing Camille, her words still stung, wounding deep. “What are you saying?”

“I think you’ve been wanting to be the heir all along. Inherit Highmoor, inherit everything.”

“Camille!” I cried out. “You know that’s not true! I’d never do anything to hurt any of you, least of all Verity! Killing her wouldn’t put me any closer to inheriting Highmoor. Surely you see how mad that sounds.”

“Mad,” she agreed. “Seen any moths lately?”

My eyes darted to Papa. He was the only one who knew about that night in the gallery.

“Roland!” Camille shouted, calling for the valet.

“He’s not here. He’s at the shipwreck,” I said. “All the footmen left for…”

I trailed off as Roland entered the room. He paused at the threshold, his eyebrows raised, waiting for instruction.

“You’re not really here,” I murmured. “You can’t be.”

I felt my family’s eyes fall on me, their weighted stares ranging from pity to horror, all pressing in on me until I couldn’t breathe.

The room spun around me sharply, and I sank to my knees. Colors leached away, leaving everything in shades of gray, then suddenly flashed back, vivid and more saturated than ever. I squeezed my eyes shut against the brightness, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I saw exactly what was about to happen.

Roland would haul me from the room and lock me away. Cassius wouldn’t be able to stop them. They’d say I would be taken to Astrea to stand trial, but Camille wouldn’t let her sisters’ murderer leave Highmoor unscathed, especially with a Harbinger feeding her lies.

Would Camille poison one of my meals? Make it look as if I’d used the bedclothes to hang myself? Kosamaras would cross my name off her list, one step closer to her murderous goal.

Candlelight caught on oily tracks running down Camille’s face. Though they were faint, it was enough to see Kosamaras was at work, altering her memories.

Without thinking, I grabbed Cassius’s dagger and whirled around, brandishing it at Sterland.

“Annaleigh, no!” Cassius shouted behind me, but I did not waver.

“Annaleigh, put that down,” Papa ordered, approaching me from the side.

I countered, keeping the blade trained on Sterland. “He did this. He made the pact. He’s behind everything, Papa.”

Sterland’s face turned red. “What? What are you talking about?”

I tried to still the tremor in my hands as I stared down the dagger’s blade at my father’s lifelong friend. “Tell them! Tell everyone about Viscardi and the bargain. Tell them the dancing and the balls weren’t real. Tell them all about the deal you made!”

“Deal? What deal? Annaleigh, you’ve gone mad!” He glanced around, presumably searching for a weapon.

“You’re punishing Papa because he became the Duke, stealing everything from you.”

His mouth opened in surprise. “What? I would never—”

“Sterland, is this true?” Papa asked, eyes widening. “You think I killed Evangeline? My own sister? Just for some title?”

“Of course not,” Sterland said. He raised his hands as I took a step toward him, swishing the dagger back and forth. “I admit it’s crossed my mind before, but I never truly…Ortun, I don’t know what the girl is talking about. I never made a deal—certainly not with a Trickster.”

“Papa, do something!” Honor or Mercy—I couldn’t take my eyes off Sterland to be certain—let out a strangled sob.

A thought trickled down, running through my head like rainfall on a stone wall. Though it seemed clear Kosamaras was using Camille’s accusations to have me killed, maybe she was creating all this confusion to make me strike at Sterland first?

Which meant Sterland hadn’t made the bargain…

Or had she known I would jump to that conclusion and wouldn’t be able to kill him, thus protecting the dealmaker?

Or, worse, was she putting these ideas into my head now, overloading me until I snapped? My temples pounded, my mind cycling through too many possibilities. How was I ever to know which was right?

“Annaleigh, why don’t you give me the knife?” Papa said, approaching slowly, hands raised in supplication. “You’re upset, obviously. You’ve been through a lot these last few weeks. Let’s talk, and I’m sure we’ll come up with a solution.”

“No. Sterland has to die before the bargain can be completed. This is the only way to fix it. Tell them, Cassius.”

I glanced over my shoulder. I needed his reassurance. This was rapidly spinning out of my control. But when I looked to the doorway, he was gone.

A sound of confusion escaped me. I hurried out into the hallway, but he was nowhere to be found. “Cassius?” Crossing back into the room, I scanned it more thoroughly. “Where did he go?”

Camille frowned, confusion clouding her face. “Who?”