Reeds

Aubrey looked up from glaring at his tea as the door opened, ready with sharp words should his father dare to intrude in his salon, far from certain what to say if Ruthven bothered him—but his mouth closed with a snap as he realized it was only Stregoni.

"You look as though you would like to take someone's head," Stregoni said with cautious humor. "I'm glad you decided not to take mine."

"I want to kill my father," Aubrey said sourly, finishing his tea and pouring more, motioning for Stregoni to help himself.

Stregoni dropped down in the armchair on the other side of the table that held the tea things, propping his feet up on an ottoman, unconsciously mimicking Aubrey's slouched, sulking posture. "Well, that is nothing new. What has he does now?"

Taking a sip of tea, Aubrey related the shouting match of a few days ago in his father's room, the revelation of what his parents had once done—the tongue lashing he had received when he'd attempted to confront his father a second time.

"I woke up yesterday to discover that all materials pertaining to it had been taken from my room, and we near brought the breakfast room down on our heads shouting it out this morning," Aubrey concluded morosely. "The bastard is bound and determined to keep me from resuming the work they began, the work he abandoned after my mother and Mina were killed. I don't understand why! Surely the greatest revenge against the murderers, the greatest tribute to the memory of my mother and Mina, would be to achieve their goals. Why is he so stubborn?"

Stregoni smiled faintly over the rim of his teacup. "Stubbornness does rather seem to be a family trait."

Aubrey shot him a suspicious look, but Stregoni only stared blandly back.

"Maybe he's scared." Stregoni continued. "I know I would be afraid of who else might die. He already lost his wife and lover—" He broke off, an odd expression on his face.

"Yeah," Aubrey said, knowing what he was thinking. "I was feeling the same way for days."

He was still feeling that way. Sangre had not confirmed it, but he hadn't denied it either, which was as good as a confirmation. His father hadn't just loved his mother, but also Mina—they all three of them—

Taking another sip of tea, Aubrey shook his head.

"I see that runs in the family too," Stregoni muttered over his own tea.

Aubrey frowned. "What?"

"Nothing," Stregoni said hastily. "So you're in here in sulking?"

"Essentially."

Stregoni grinned. "Sounds good to me. I'm due to make my regular visit to Blackfield. I do not know if I should go or not, and deciding the matter is giving me a headache."

"If they are going to be right bastards," Aubrey said shortly, "I do not see why they are worth your time and effort. The weather had cleared for now, but it could turn foul again at any moment. Why should you risk that for a family that did nothing but turn you out like some criminal?"

"They are desperate to help their son," Stregoni said gently. "I'm worried about Tony, too. That damned quack…"

Aubrey could understand that; he would do anything to save Carmilla. He could not imagine being Stregoni, who must worry about hundreds of people.

He lit upon a sudden idea. "I say, Stregoni, why don't I go with you?"

"What?"

"I'll go with you," Aubrey repeated, finishing his tea and setting the cup down with a clink and rattle. "My presence will scare them some, if only because it's impossible not to know my father, and that will make them behave a bit more than they otherwise would—mayhap even let you examine Tony." He clapped his hands once in sudden amusement. "I'll even drag Ruthven along, make it a proper 'I am the son of the local earl and you'll do what I say' visit. If I have to be an earl's son, I may as well put it to some use."

Stregoni looked at him. "That's not like you, to have anything whatsoever to do with your father."

"Yes, well…" Aubrey said. "If I'm going to pursue freeing Pets, I shall have to learn to use all my resources, which unfortunately includes my role as heir." He made a face. "If my father does not disown me for defying him. How ironic that my new ambitions could result in my finally being disowned, and now it's the last thing I want."

"You do like to make things difficult, Brey," Stregoni said with a laugh. "How is Ruthven, by the way? No more relapses?"

"No," Aubrey replied, pointedly ignoring the look on Stregoni's face. He slumped down in his chair. "I didn't mean for that to happen," he muttered guiltily, body going tight and hot as he remembered what had transpired after Ruthven had woken—and though he was doing his damnedest to avoid letting it happen again, Ruthven was more than happy to take intimate liberty now that he'd done it once.

He wondered if Ruthven would still want him were he free, for even if he was the oddest Pet Aubrey had ever known, there was the simple fact he'd drunk Aubrey's blood. That was a tie even Ruthven couldn't overcome, and it left an even more sour taste in Aubrey's mouth than it already had.

Which reminded him the blood dependency would be an issue whenever Pets obtained freedom.

There were dozens upon dozens of issues, most of which he could probably clear up with his mother's notes, except of course his father had ruined any chance of that.

"Have you heard a word I've said?"

"Huh?" Aubrey asked, snapping back to the present. "No, apologies. I was lost in thought."

Stregoni snorted. "Thinking about going to find Ruthven?"

"No," Aubrey said hastily, ignoring Stregoni's laughter. "What were you saying?"

"That I should go check on Carmilla, then we can perhaps grab a quick supper and be on our way? If we leave soon enough, we can return same day instead of overstaying the lack of welcome we are sure to receive."

Aubrey nodded. "Sounds good to me. Let's check on Carmilla, then I'll go find Ruthven to inform him before we go scrounge dinner."

Stregoni smiled and set his cup down, standing with a flourish. "Come on, then."

Taking more time to stand and adjust his clothes, Aubrey returned the smile and followed Stregoni from the room. "Where is Carmilla this time of day?"

"Beggin' pardon, my lord," a maid said nervously, from where she'd been polishing and dusting. "Her ladyship is always at her music lessons this hour."

"Thank you," Aubrey said with a smile.

Flushing bright, the maid bent back to her task.

Stregoni waited until they were well away. "Flirting with the staff now, are we?" he said, laughing and elbowing Aubrey.

"Shut up," Aubrey said, rolling his eyes. "You know me better than that."

"Yeah, yeah," Stregoni said, still snickering. "Come on, to the music room we go."

They walked in companionable silence, each lost to his own thoughts, occasionally exchanging glances, and Aubrey realized that none of his friends at school had been like Stregoni. Nobility, all of them, and he had gotten along with them, and missed them—but they weren't Stregoni.

The Benefici family had always been close to the Bathory family, since their grandfathers had first met and gotten on together, no matter the impropriety of an earl calling a mere doctor friend. Their fathers had been good friends as well…

Aubrey let out a soft chuff of laughter.

"What's so amusing?" Stregoni asked.

"I just realized you're one tradition I followed, so far as the earls in my family are concerned."

Stregoni blinked at that, then laughed as he got it. "Well, if your honor demands we start up a feud in order to anger you father, I suppose—" He stopped abruptly, an odd look flickering across his face. Confusion, but also pain.

Aubrey frowned in concern. "Stregoni?"

"I know that tune…" Stregoni said.

"It's a fairly common one…" Aubrey said, but trailed off as he really listened. A sad piece, but that wasn't what struck him—it was that it was traditionally played by two people, and was being played by two people now.

Well, not so strange, really. Likely Carmilla and her tutor were playing a duet.

Stregoni still frowned beside him, and Aubrey had to take his arm and drag him a moment before he resumed walking.

He pushed open the door to the music room—and came to an abrupt halt.

Whatever he'd expected, it wasn't the sight before him.

Carmilla sat on the left side of the bench, long hair bundled only loosely, so the curls tumbled down her back in seeming haphazard fashion, decorated here and there with jeweled wood anemone. Her dress was ice blue, trimmed in silver and gold, shining in the light streaming through the windows.

The strange part was the way she occasionally looked up and smiled at her tutor as they played—and the way her tutor smiled back.

Aubrey hadn't known his damnable cousin could smile, especially with what suspiciously looked like sincerity.

Gilles's hair was down too, as though neither one of them had thought any sort of formality necessary for the lesson. Even his afternoon jacket had been tossed aside, deep blue lace against the crimson velvet of the chaise. He was beautiful and relaxed and almost friendly looking as they played the complicated duet, exchanging occasional friendly smiles.

As they finished, Carmilla clapped her hands and laughed in delight. "I did not falter once—I guess I can be taught."

"Of course you can, sweet," Gilles said, reaching out to ruffle her loose curls. He reached out to take a sip from the brandy tumbler on a nearby table. "Now, let's play it one more time, then we'll move on to a new piece."

"Yes, Gilles," Carmilla said obediently. Her fingers moved promptly back to the keys, beginning again the beautiful, haunting melody. After a moment, Gilles joined in, and they played it through a second time as flawlessly as they had the first.

Aubrey clapped when they finished, causing his sister to squeak and turn around, nearly knocking herself from the bench.

"Brey! What do you think?"

He strode across the room and took her hands, kissing the knuckles. "I think you play as fine as any princess. Beautiful." His eyes slid to Gilles, whose face had slid back into its perpetual expression of frozen, uncaring beauty. Aubrey almost thought he'd imagined the smiles Gilles had so easily exchanged with Carmilla.

"What are you doing here?" Carmilla asked.

"We came to see how you were," Aubrey said, but further explanation fell away as he took in the strange look on Stregoni's face—Stregoni, who was staring at Gilles, who was clearly ignoring him.

He frowned, wondering what the devil was going on. Before he could ask, Carmilla's hands tightened on his own. When he looked back at her, she gave the barest shake of her head. She kept hold of him with one hand, using the others to gather up her voluminous skirts with practiced ease, guiding him to the hallway.

Ignoring the more confusing matter of his friend for the moment, Aubrey voiced an easier question. "When did Gilles start tutoring you in music?"

"Since he caught my tutor trying to make inappropriate advances," Carmilla said, voice level as she smoothed her skirts back out.

"What!" Aubrey bellowed.

Carmilla looked at him in amusement. "Father took care of the matter."

"I should hope so," Aubrey snarled. "How dare the bastard—"

She laughed, interrupting his tirade before he could get started. "You know, Brey, I never noticed until this moment—you and father are a lot alike."

Aubrey narrowed his eyes. "There is no need to go about slinging insults, Milla."

Carmilla only laughed again.

He started to speak when the door to the music room was abruptly thrown open, and Stregoni stumbled out looking as though he were about to either scream or cry. Aubrey stared. "Stregoni—"

"Carmilla," Stregoni said, then coughed to clear his throat, raising his voice to speak over the melody now pouring from the music room—deeper, sadder, and far more tempestuous than the bittersweet melody from before. No, this piece was more like an uncontrollable grief. Stregoni coughed again, trying in vain to get his voice to sound normal, and not as though he was choking on something. "I came to make certain you would be all right for a day or so before I left to carry on my duties."

"You're leaving?" Carmilla said with a frown. "But you can't—what about supper?"

They both stared at her blankly. Aubrey shook his head. "What supper?"

Carmilla sighed in exasperation. "Honestly, does no one around here communicate? Did Father not tell you? The Blackfields have been invited to dinner, and they are bringing their new personal physician with them." She slid a glance to Stregoni. "I say invited, but to be honest, it was more like they were ordered to come or else. Apparently they have many apologies to make, unless they want father to return the insult thrice over."

"What insult?" Stregoni said. "You can't mean me."

She reached up to kiss his cheek. "Of course you, silly. You are a dear friend of the family—no way would Father tolerate such an insult."

"How the devil did Father find out?" Aubrey asked.

Carmilla shrugged. "I believe Gilles relayed the information to him, and Father of course lost his temper and sent Gilles to issue the threats in person."

"W-what?" Stregoni asked. "Why would Gilles do that?"

"He is part of this family, for all the lot of you seem intent upon killing each other." She shook her head, clucking soft disapproval. "Though I concede Gilles excels at being difficult."

"To say the least," Stregoni muttered. They fell silent briefly, listening to the heartbreaking sounds still pouring from the music room. "Bastard."

Carmilla frowned but did not argue with him.

Aubrey looked at her. "How do you know so much, Milla?"

She gave him a smile that was sad and weary and faintly amused. "Brey, I spend my days on reading, writing, needlework, the greenhouse, and music—and listening to everything that is happening around me. Today is the first time in a week I have been strong enough to be up and about, rather than confined to my rooms. I know what goes on around the house because I will never know what goes on beyond it." She patted his cheek, then leaned up to kiss it softly, smelling like pink roses and chrysanthemums.

He kissed her cheek in return. "I do love you, little sister."

"I know," she said, and reached up to cup is face briefly in her pale, fragile-looking, not quite steady hands. "I love you too, Brey." She withdrew her hands and stepped away. "Now, I must go and get ready for supper, and I suggest you do the same, or you and father will no doubt have another row."

Stifling a sigh, for he'd been looking forward to escaping the house for a day or so, Aubrey nodded and dragged Stregoni with him, not even bothering to draw his haunted-looking friend into conversation before they split up to go their separate ways.

That riddle would have to wait until later tonight, or even tomorrow, depending on how the damned supper went.