House of Salt and Sorrows - Erin A. Craig Page 0,32
reedy words drifting above the breakfast table.
Papa jumped from his chair. “My love, you’re supposed to be sleeping in. After such an exciting night, you need your rest.”
“Papa, I have something I need to speak with you about,” I said, finding my voice as he approached us.
“Not now, Annaleigh.”
“But it’s important. It’s about—”
“I said not now! I’ve had all I can stand of everyone’s important news this morning.” He threw a warning glance at Camille before escorting Morella from the room.
My breath fell out in a rush as they left. I jammed the watch into my pocket. Purple floral arrangements still dotted the table, and the smell of wilting lilies curdled my stomach. I poured a cup of coffee, leaving it black, and sat down with a sigh.
“So dramatic,” Camille muttered.
I ran my finger over the cup’s handle. “No one likes the situation we’re in, but we don’t have to torment her with it.”
Camille turned on me. “Since when did you become her champion? You hated her too.”
Rosalie and Ligeia eyed the door, judging whether they might leave the room unscathed.
“I never hated her. She’s carrying our new brother or sister and having an increasingly difficult time with it. Shouldn’t we allow her a little kindness?”
“How much kindness would she show us if her little sun god was inheriting Highmoor? Do you honestly think she’d allow eight spinsters room and board? We’d all be out faster than Zephyr’s arrows.”
Verity came in, hopping down the last step. “Who’s faster than Zephyr? No one can outrace the wind god!”
I shot Camille a warning look. The Graces didn’t need to know of any discord between us and Morella.
“You’re sure to be, wearing those shoes,” I exclaimed, spotting her fairy slippers peeking out from her robe. She’d worn them ever since they’d arrived. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d slept in them.
Verity smiled, twirling to best show them off, then spun to the buffet, standing on tiptoes to peer up at the pastries. Camille helped her make a plate. She put a generous serving of kippers on first before adding the berry tart Verity pointed to.
“I feel like going back to bed,” Rosalie admitted, sprawling her arms out on the table and lowering her head. “Spending all night not dancing was exhausting.”
“No fair! I still have lessons!” Verity exclaimed. She climbed into her seat and waited for Camille to bring the plate over.
“Fish first.”
Verity glowered up at her. “Yours are still on your plate.”
“I’m the oldest,” Camille shot back.
Verity stuck her tongue out but eventually dug in. “What are you doing this morning, Annaleigh?”
The watch burned in my pocket, but I couldn’t bring it up now. Not with a fight festering just below the surface. “I ought to walk the beach for more kelp. Morella is nearly out of lotion.”
“The beach?”
We all turned to see Fisher standing in an archway. “Fancy company? I could row you out to the little islet with all the tide pools. You should be able to find whatever you need.”
I sensed Camille’s eyes on me but nodded, smiling up at Fisher. “After breakfast?”
He grinned.
Striding in, Papa said, “We need to talk.” Scanning the room, he caught sight of Verity. “Darling, why don’t you take your breakfast upstairs today? It can be a special treat.”
Her eyes lit up. “Are they in trouble? Camille didn’t eat her kippers.”
“She didn’t? Perhaps I’ll speak to her about that.”
Pleased, Verity scooted out of the room, tart in hand. The fish were left behind.
“Fisher, would you excuse us? I need to speak with my daughters. Privately.”
Fisher vanished down the hall.
Papa waited a beat before starting in on us. “Morella is very upset,” he said. “Inconsolable.”
Camille bristled, clearly not backing down. “Imagine how we feel. We’re the ones in danger of dying off, long before that baby is born.”
He sighed. “No one is dying off.”
“Then she has nothing to worry about, does she?” She slumped back into the chair. “I suppose you want me to apologize for having a conversation that wasn’t about her that she chose to eavesdrop on?”
Papa raked his fingers through his hair. “Just don’t bring it up again. Not around her, not among yourselves. I’m placing a moratorium on the curse. Which doesn’t exist,” he added. “Now, I have to travel to the capital this afternoon. I’ll be gone at least a week, maybe more. There’s an ugly bit of business King Alderon has requested his Privy Council weigh in on.” He sighed. “Morella is more tired than