Page 28

“I want my mirror back.”

He closes his book and tucks it under his arm. “I don’t have anything of yours, Lacrimosa.”

“You took it from me outside the mine.”

“Why would I have been anywhere near that sinkhole?” He shifts his stance, planting his feet widely in the doorway as though I am planning to force my way inside. My stomach twists, my cheeks turn hot. I imagine myself snatching his book from him, throwing it onto the ground.

“There’s no one here but you and I, Alastair. Stop pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

His mouth thins, his fingers tighten around the book. “Not thatit makes a difference—because I have nothing to say to you—but we are not, in fact, alone.”

He gestures toward the stairs, where Camille is on the landing. She’s wearing a gauzy cotton skirt and an oversized blouse patterned with tiny flowers. The paleness of her outfit is interrupted by a pair of black woolen socks that are far too big for her feet.

The sight of her, sleepy and flushed, sends a rivulet of newer, softer feeling through my anger. Picked out in hues of gold and umber by the lantern light, her hair as rich as chocolate ganache, her cheeks rosy, Camille is beautiful as a forest nymph.

She leans over the banister to smile down at me. “Hello, Lacrimosa.” Then her eyes narrow as she looks me up and down, taking in my disheveled nightdress, the cuts on my feet. “Is everything all right? I thought you’d be with your betrothed by now.”

“There was…” I pause, searching for the words. “A change of plans.”

Alastair, not turning to look at his sister, says, “Camille, go away.”

Camille ignores him, descending to the lowermost step. “Gods, he’s so rude. I’d say he’s been raised by wolves, but wolves have better manners. Come inside, don’t stand out there in the dark.”

An ache tugs at my chest as she holds out her hand to me, inviting me into the house. I can’t help but think how different it would have been if she were here the last time I came to Saltswan. I wouldn’t have felt so small when Alastair turned cruel if Camille had defended me like she is now.

I take a step forward. Alastair casts a murderous glare at Camille, but he moves aside to let me pass.

Inside the front hall, a salt lantern burns on a sideboard table. The entranceway is decorated similarly to the parts of the house I saw on my first and only time inside. Flocked wallpaper, expensive furniture. Countless frames hung up like in a gallery. The paintings areall of sour-faced Felimath relatives, staring down with disapproving expressions.

Alastair goes up the stairs without waiting for me. He calls impatiently over his shoulder, “Well, are you coming or not?”

“See what I mean?” Camille laughs, rolling her eyes at me. “Even wolves are more polite.”

Alastair leads me to a room at the end of the hall. It’s a library, with three of the walls filled by shelves and the fourth taken up by the polished hearth of an unlit fire. Another small salt lantern, like the one downstairs, is the only source of light, and the corners of the room lie in dusky shadows. High ceilings give it the feel of the carved chambers in the salt mine, a sense of being far from the rest of the world.

A velvet chaise is drawn close to the hearth, and a rumpled blanket at one end marks the place where Alastair must have been sitting. There’s a stack of books on the side table, a teacup beside them.

Alastair lays down his book on top of the pile, lifting the cup and taking a sip of tea while eyeing me over the rim with irritation. “When your brothers told me you’d agreed to be married to pay their debt, I didn’t realize your bridegroom was Therion.”

I stand in the doorway, my arms folded. “It’s nice to know you’ve had a sudden return of your memories. I thought you were nowhere near the mine on my betrothal night?”

“I can’t believe they would actually sell you off to him, to our god.”

Anger prickles beneath my skin, turning me hot and restless. He’s completely unapologetic, though why should I have expected otherwise? “They didn’tsellme. I wanted to go.” I cut off, letting out a tense, irritated sigh. “I’m not going to justify my choices to you, Alastair. Maybe if you’d forgiven the debt when I asked—”

Alastair snorts disparagingly and puts down his cup. “This isn’t myfault, whatever you want to believe.” But his teeth clench, and his eyes slide away from me toward the open window. “Anyway, it seems you’ve gotten away lightly, despite that idiotic bargain.”

“As per usual, you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Did you come all the way here just to argue with me?”

I move into the room, closing the door. Beyond the house, past the window with its curtains looped back, is the distant gleam of inky ocean shifting beneath the moonlight. “Alastair, what were you doing in the mine?”

“I was sick of the crowd at the bonfire, so I went for a walk along the clifftops. And there you were, sailing in that peculiar boat. So I followed you.”

“You followed me,” I echo. “Why?”

“Morbid curiosity, I suppose.” He raises one shoulder, a lazy shrug. I stare at him incredulously until he clenches his hands into fists. With reluctance, as though he has to force out the words, he adds, “I was concerned about you.”