bats in a cave? I looked up, certain I would be attacked by large, moldering wings.
It was clean.
Papa stared out the window, limned by moonlight. Waves of tangible fury radiated from him. “This wasn’t funny, Annaleigh.”
“But, Papa, they really were—”
“I know you older girls are not keen on my relationship with Morella, but she is my wife, and I will not have you interrupting our nights like this again.”
My mouth dropped open. Did he really believe this was a mean-spirited prank? “That wasn’t what— I didn’t even know you were…” I stopped, my cheeks burning. No amount of remorse could make me finish that sentence.
“Go to bed, Annaleigh.”
“But Verity—”
“Verity is asleep in her room. We’ll deal with this when I return from Vasa.” I opened my mouth to protest, but he immediately cut me off. “Not another word.”
I trudged out of the room when it became clear he wasn’t going to listen to me any longer. He crossed to the foyer, taking the long way up to avoid me. My stomach twisted as I watched him go.
What had just happened? First Verity and Eulalie, then the moths. I paused at the foot of the stairs, then turned and went back to the gallery, certain I’d find it crawling with the flying monsters.
It was empty.
I left, rubbing my temple and feeling not altogether there. I’d never been prone to sleepwalking before, but perhaps I’d dreamt the nightmare up.
But it had felt so real.
Elizabeth had spoken of seeing ghastly things before she took her fateful bath. Shadows that weren’t there. Omens in tea leaves. She once spent a whole afternoon trapped in her room, too frightened to leave because she’d seen an owl fly by in broad daylight and claimed it was a sign foreshadowing death. Servants whispered she’d gone mad.
When I reached the third floor, I immediately went to Verity’s room, convinced it would be empty. But I found her, just as Papa had predicted I would, in bed and fast asleep.
I watched her chest rise and fall with slow regularity. She’d been sleeping for quite some time, not downstairs speaking to our dead sister. I rubbed my eyes, pushing back a horde of unhelpful thoughts.
I was tired. That’s all it was. An exhausted mind was apt to play tricks—there were certainly enough stories of sleepy sailors spotting ghost ships or mermaids on the midnight watch.
That’s all it was.
I turned away, heading for my room. After a good night’s rest, everything would look better.
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