The scare the dog had caused, and the subsequent revelations it had unwillingly led him to, made Eiren strangely jittery for the rest of the day. Deciding that a break from his recent readings would be necessary, he instead spent the rest of the next day wandering aimlessly around the castle.

Never able to get warm, he drifted in and out of the unlocked rooms, passing the First Lady's with a sad look - it had been mysteriously closed and bolted from what appeared to be the inside, shortly after his excursion into its depths. Although he had taken at least one journal with him, it contained no more telling of sacrifice, no more key clues into the past of Kelfordshire.

Wind whistled around the Castle, and the ceiling groaned in protest wherever Eiren walked. Never had it been so cold in Perrinton, not even into the darkest part of the season! He wrapped his arms around his shoulders and squeezed, but still, the cold remained and burrowed further into his skin.

Teeth chattering, he walked faster, trying to generate any body heat at all. He had been wandering around the downstairs all morning, but with the shrill increase in wind, necessity and a flimsy portion of self-preservation ushered him up the stairs. Oh, how happy I am not to be that sculptor, he thought, greedily hovering over a candle that flickered from atop a hallway dresser. He rubbed his hands together and groaned under his breath.

Kenton Abbey and the surrounding town of Tottenham Cross were not so far off from Kelfordshire, but this cold felt like the most unnatural, vile thing in the world. He should have been used to it, he knew that, should have some sort of genetic inclination towards the chillier aspect of the year. I've spoiled myself, he mused, stuffing his fingers in his armpits and shuffling onward. Born and raised here, but I might as well be that damnable Mr. Quilby.

He passed the hallway of portraits he had seen on his first day back. It did not take long to find the doomed Anton, staring down at the floor with gloomy eyes. This place spoiled him, it seems. Eiren swallowed and shook his head before continuing down the hall, hoping he was never shot by the terrible Lord Van Wyk.

As he drew closer to the end of the hall, he began to notice a strange echoing. His heart stopped for a second, and when it continued, it created a most unpleasant sloshing in his chest.

He winced and pressed himself along the wall, removing a hand from under his arm to press hard against his ribcage. The sound was getting louder, more frenetic, until, with a laugh of relief, Eiren realized he was listening to a piano. He'd never had the time to return to the room, so all plans to remember its location went completely to waste, and indirectly lead to this ridiculous fright. I really must calm down. Not everything here is trying to kill me, though he wasn't quite sure about this last thought.

He pushed his way into the piano room and was greeted at once by the hypnotic silver decorations against the inky black walls. Sitting at the bench was none other than Caelony, dressed once more in a dirty, frayed set of overalls. From the door, Eiren could just make out her bare feet, pressing and tapping at the pedals. She was bent over, almost, eyes closed and hair a mess as she moved with impressive speed over the keys.

Eiren had never seen anything so beautiful, or frightening.

He watched her in silence for several minutes. The energy with which she played her wild piece brought sweat out on her neck, and it ran in cool lines, before disappearing into her hair. He shivered and took a slight step forward - the heat was enough to reach out and warm even him.

"What do you want, Eiren?" She did not look up, but continued to play, twisted over the instrument. Eiren jumped and began to fidget with his shirt.

"N-nothing," he stammered. This was the first time she had spoken to him outside of occasional dinner summons since... since nothing, he sighed inside. Forget about that!

"It must be something," she replied, looking up for a moment and hammering particularly hard on the left side of the board. "Else, you wouldn't be bothering me. Out with it!" Eiren threw his hands in the air and made a sort of defeated squeak.

"I mean it," he said quickly, "only, I was drawn in by the sound, nothing more."

"Hmph." She looked away and slowed her song, her fingers trailing to the right and almost plucking the notes. "Well, sit down. I've something to talk to you about, anyhow." Wondering when he was going to develop a backbone and stop letting her boss him around like some naughty child, he stooped his shoulders and sighed, sliding down on her right.

"What is it?"

"I wanted to apologize." Eiren whipped his gaze up and gaped.

"A-apologize? For what?"

"Don't be an idiot, darling. I'm quite sure you haven't forgotten that delicate scene which you so clumsily walked in on." Her foot pressed down, and she released her left hand from the piano, allowing the instrument to carry and sustain a heavy, gloomy note.

Eiren sniffed and looked away.

"No, I have not forgotten," he said quietly.

"Obviously. That is what I wished to extend an apology for." He turned back to her with a suspicious glare - since when did Caelony Van Wyk apologize to anybody? She caught the look and snorted.

"Don't look so shocked, it's rather rude."

"You must admit, it's unexpected."

"I mustn't admit anything. Now, stop jumping to conclusions and making judgments before you've heard what I have to say!" Her fingers came down hard on the left, and Eirn jumped in his seat. She was effective with the piano in more ways than reading notes, he realized.

Caelony sniffed haughtily and looked at him under her eyelashes, her head still bent down.

"Thank you. Now, I am apologizing for this, and this alone: I regret allowing you so easy access to my rooms, that you should have been forced to view the unfortunate incident which you did. I do not," she added darkly, "regret that which you saw."

Eiren stood up at once and walked away towards the shelves of music. He slammed a fist against one of the beams holding a shelf up and scowled at her.

"Then you apologize for nothing!" This illicited a scoff and a snort from Caelony.

"You are astonishingly ungrateful, my dear."

"Stop calling me that!"

"Would you get out of your own damn head for one minute," she shouted back, looking up as she thundered on the left of the piano. "Not everything is about you!"

"I'm not saying it is," he spat, grasping at a sheet of music absently and crunching it in his hand, "I'm merely sick of your pretenses!"

"What damn pretenses? When have I shown you something that was not as it is, when have I said what I did not mean?" She stamped her foot; the sustained boom that followed was accompanied by a frenetic, high smattering of notes. "No, you blame others for your ill-met expectations!"

"I do no such thing!" He threw the paper to the floor and crossed his arms, his brow furrowed so deeply that his head began to ache. "You are the one lying to me! These darlings and dears and loves are all lies!"

Caelony threw her head back and a cackle loosed itself from her lips.

"Lies? Is that how you see my attempts at comfort? Yes, you are an ungrateful wretch, still surrounded by what you alone see and think!"

He opened his mouth to shout some hot reply, but she smacked the flat top of the piano and stood up. The absence of sound was strangely loud - the lack of notes buzzed in his ears.

"I did not want to argue with you, Eiren." She took a deep, wavering breath and sat back down. Eiren noticed that she did not continue to play, merely fingered the closest key with a soft pad.

Feeling foolish for having begun their debate, he resumed his seat beside her and sighed, sliding forward until his face pressed against the top of the piano.

"Forgive me."

"Eiren, I know you're confused, and hurt, and you feel betrayed, but you must understand me!" She turned in the seat and faced him, an unfamiliar look of... desperation? Desperation, and something akin to fear, in her eyes.

He rolled his head to the side and stared at her from under an arm, feeling very weary.

"What must I understand? That, after ten years apart, you greeted me with a surprising kindness, and then threw it all away for... him?"

"Don't be crass," she scolded, frowning and sitting back. She folded her arms and looked down at him, resembling the priest with the way she wore that disappointed look. How tired was he, to always see that face, no matter where he went, or who he spoke to! "I didn't throw it all away for him. I... I've been with him for years," she admitted, her anger turning to a dull sadness. Eiren watched her face, and saw how her eyes fell. It was very hard, he found, to be moved by her anguish.

"Why pretend we were different than last time? Why encourage this idea, that we had changed, if you knew him all along?" He tried to spit these words out, and strike at her with them, but his questions only came in defeated whispers. She chuckled without smiling.

"I already told you," she replied quickly, "I never wanted you to see us together. It was never my intention to cause you that pain."

"I don't believe you."

"Eiren, you're being foolish. What do you expect of me," she said, her voice growing louder, "when you leave me and run off to your fantasy land, with pretty girls and friends and freedom!" She stood up, the bench jerking back and tipping Eiren dangerously forward. He stood quickly and they stared at one another, far too close for his comfort.

She was as tall as he, and he appreciated fully how much older than him she was. They glared into each other's eyes before she spoke again.

"You get to leave and make fun as you like," she started, thrusting her finger into his chest, "but I am supposed to stay loyal and still, with nobody to talk to and nobody to treat me like I have desires of my own?"

"You brought that upon yourself," he replied in a low voice, swatting at her hand. "If you weren't such a spiteful wretch, so determined to take after your mother, you wouldn't have driven me away!" A very short gasp escaped her and she took a step closer.

"You know nothing about my mother!"

"I know enough, and it's apparent you are as much like her as you want to be!" Their scowls intensified. Somehow, Eiren felt colder next to her than he had out in the empty, drafty hall.

She ground her teeth together and snarled.

"Fine, then. Be that way. You've as much pride as your father, and look where that landed him." Eiren blinked and frowned in confusion.

"What do you mean by that?" Caelony sniffed and turned her nose up.

"Oh, you don't know?"

"How childish can a grown woman be," he cried, grabbing her by the shoulders and squeezing hard. "What do you mean by that, Caelony?" She slapped him and pulled herself free, her cheeks bright red.

"It seems we are all doomed to repeat our parents' mistakes," she said coldly, and she spat at his feet. "My mother was a whore, everybody claimed, and so am I to you! Well," she said, in a voice that declared their conversation was over, "your father was a prideful bastard, and if that's what got him killed, then I hope it happens to you, too!"

With that, she shoved her way past him and out of the room, taking care to slam the door as hard as she could.

His cheek stinging and his pulse erratic, Eiren slumped down to the piano bench. What had she meant, by that's what got him killed? Was his father's death something more than a natural consequence of his drinking and his reckless attitude towards living? Eiren had always assumed the passing of the former Sire of Kenton Abbey had died naturally, almost willingly, and was frankly surprised he hadn't passed sooner after the death of his mother.

Who would have killed his father? Who could have, and received so little punishment that even Eiren hadn't heard of the killer?

He suddenly remembered the letter the priest had sent to the Lutton's summer home, and he felt a grim sensation spread in his chest.

In the years since your absence, your father had accumulated quite a considerable sum of the latter, and, without the benevolence of the Lord Van Wyk, it was to be expected that you should remain in this significant debt for the rest of your life. Blessed are we indeed, to know and be cared for by such a compassionate figure as he.

Eiren wasn't sure what his father would have done to anger such a powerful person, but it became exceedingly obvious to him that Lord Van Wyk had murdered Sir Adair, and he wondered only how long it would be before the Lord found an appropriate reason to kill him, too.