The desk had a few photos out, with a small bookshelf beside, and she couldn’t resist looking at both. The photos were more or less what she’d expected. A much younger Farran, but visibly himself, with a man and woman, presumably his parents. There was one of Farran with a different man, though obviously related to the first one. That suggested it was his uncle. Farran must have been around eighteen.
Third and perhaps most relevant was a shot that made her stop and consider, because she was almost certain that was one of the estates in Electra’s line. It was difficult to tell, of course. Trees and hedges and gardens were all over the place, and the angle on the photo had very little that was distinctive. But Vega was almost certain she knew the line of that statue in the corner, or the way it was casting a clear shadow, at least.
The statue itself was relatively recent, but in the classical mode, a haunting image of a woman turning her face away, pulling a length of fabric over her face as a veil, weeping, as it was said Electra had wept at the destruction of Troy. The statue’s other hand was outstretched. That was the part that showed in the shadow, as if she were reaching back to grasp something that was no longer there and would never be there.
Before Farran could come back and catch her looking at the photos, Vega moved to look at the bookshelves. Those were about what she’d expected, given that Farran had seemed well-read. There were a range of materials that were likely related to his work, a few biographies of artists and a few reference titles. But there was also a mystery, the spine well-worn in a way that suggested it came from a used bookshop, and a magical title related to architecture. And of course there were several guidesto London and a space where the guide to the Tower he’d bought was likely meant to live.
Farran came back, carrying a tray, and then he snorted. “Vivian says that it’s a sign of a good mind if someone looks at your bookshelves.”
“Also telling, though? I can’t imagine she likes that much.” Vega said it before realising that might give something away. She coughed. “She has something of a reputation for discretion.”
“That is why Vivian has two offices. Well, and a library room,” Farran said, then he set down the tray before considering. “There are books in her private office, but they’re the sort of books you’d expect for her work. The Gold Book, various other family histories, business directories, that sort of thing.” The Gold Book laid out all the Great Families of Albion over the generations, and that would be useful for a number of reasons.
Something about how he put it made Vega sure she needed to come clean with him. She wasn’t used to that. Either people knew she was a Cousin, and of Alcyone’s line, or they didn’t need to know. But she wanted Farran to know. And honestly, she thought he needed to know. There wasn’t any way to talk about some of why Vandermeer worried her without it. Not that she was at all articulate about it.
She sat, and Farran did immediately after. He’d been waiting for her to sit, then, an attention to manners that seemed entirely instinctive for him. He’d been raised well, both by his parents and his uncle, in that case. Though, she supposed, Ormulu would also have put a polish on that sort of thing. “Please pour.” There, she could give herself a little more time. “Every pot has its quirks I’ve found. And I, erm.” She was supposed to be gifted at words coming out of her mouth. There were certainly songs and arias and bits of opera lyrics she could quote here, and all ofthem caught in her throat. “I’m trying to figure out how to say something. Several things, related.”
“Well, then. Tea might help.” Farran set about pouring, not rushing it. Vega liked that he didn’t rush, that his movements were all measured. They were like one of her aunts working at a loom or with an embroidery frame. “Is there somewhere that’s easier to start?”
“Your friends?” Her voice cracked a little at the end. “You mentioned a little, but.”
“But you saw me dancing with Maddie.” Farran looked up at her, meeting her eyes as he set the teapot down. “I’ve never had someone react like that before. So you know.”
“Haven’t, um. Walked out with anyone else?” Vega wasn’t sure how to ask this.
“Oh.” Farran laughed, but it wasn’t mocking her. “Tony keeps setting me up with people. Or Maddie, actually, she gave it a good try, too.” His shoulder twitched, which made her think there was a bit more pain there than he was admitting to. “None of them worked out. Pleasant enough. The most recent was six months ago. She wanted to be in Trellech, all her spare time, and I wanted to be at Thebes. That’s not actually the sort of thing you can compromise on. There’s a portal that’s not a bad walk, or the train, but it’s not like we have one in the front garden, like some houses. Never mind the wait at the Trellech end sometimes.”
“Oh.” Vega looked down at her hands now. The tea was still a bit too hot to fiddle with. “I’ve been so focused on taking contracts, it doesn’t make for a good partnership. Unless there’s someone you’re doing it with, but that’s different.”
“And most of your music, I can see how a duet could work for some of it, but a lot of it wouldn’t.” Farran said. “Yes?”
“Yes.” She swallowed. “That’s part of it. But there’s another part.” Now she couldn’t look at him, and she needed to look athim, because every hint he gave her would help her figure out what to say. “If I said I was a distant relation of Vivian’s, would that mean anything to you?”
Farran looked back at her. He’d been reaching for his own teacup, but his hands stopped. “Ah.” He closed his mouth and he continued to be measured. It was both reassuring and terrifying, a combination of melody and harmony she couldn’t untangle fast enough to find the right beat. “A different, um. Grandmother? Is that the correct way to put it?”
She swallowed, then nodded again. “The photograph, there, there’s a statue, just to the right of the image, isn’t there?”
That made him laugh. “There is, yes. And the statue has an interesting history, actually, but that is for another time. Are you asking if I’ve seen where some of Vivian’s family live?” Vega nodded, just once. “She has invited us— me, and Uncle Cadmus, and Lena, who’s our housekeeper— out several times. The larger gatherings, where they can. I couldn’t go last time. There was something else I had to be at.” He then leaned back. “Were you afraid of telling me?”
“We don’t, generally. For many reasons.” Vega gestured incoherently at the door. “Vandermeer, maybe, for one reason. But people have assumptions. Even people who know one Cousin. It’s not like knowing all of us.”
“I haven’t asked for details. It’s not the kind of thing where that seemed appropriate. But I have paid attention when Vivian has talked about it. There are different lines. Some of you are all right being in a city with a lot of metal, but not all of you. Or specific foods. She doesn’t eat red meat, for example.” His eyebrow went up. “Relevant when she came as a guest at a boarding house with shared meals.”
It would have been, yes. “I’m fine in a city, usually. I prefer not to take the Tube? That’s a lot of metal, and underground? But a cab’s fine.” She glanced upward, the way that wasinstinctive. “We, my family, we care about stars. And some of the, what’s the right word, flashes of performance? Every generation, there’s one, two, maybe three of us who go out in the world and do what I do, or something like it. Singing, dancing, acting. Eventually we go back and settle down, but I think I’ve got a while yet. Maybe long enough that my age starts to show. Or lack of age.” Her chin came up. “I— um.”
Farran waved a hand. “Vivian explained that. You look younger, longer. I wouldn’t be so rude as to inquire about a lady’s age, mind.” He added after a moment. “I’m twenty-fo— no. Twenty-five. Last week.” Now he flushed, charmingly. “Last Saturday.”
“Wait, that was how you spent your birthday? Without telling me?”
“I had an entirely delightful day with you. And getting to see something new, something not that many people have seen, not in decades,” Farran said. “I also didn’t have other plans. Tony was busy. Vivian had something she was doing. I couldn’t have gone back to Thebes easily. And I really enjoyed the day with you, the way I...” He stopped and swallowed. “I think that the way you spend a day like a birthday, it tells you a lot about your coming year. Or it can. Who you spend it with, what you do. If my year has more time being interesting places, being curious, that’s grand. Or, well, I don’t want to presume. But if it had more time with you, I’d like that very much.”
“Oh.” Vega had to rapidly rearrange half a dozen assumptions. “Even knowing that I’m a Cousin?”
“I am entirely sure that if I decided against you on that ground alone, Vivian would give me a look, and thank you, no.” Farran gestured. “Tea. You want some tea.”
Vega shook her head, trying to clear it, but tea was a good idea. It was a delicate green, in fact, just lightly fragranced. Shepeered at him over the rim, once she’d taken a sip. “And the rest of it?”
“I enjoy spending time with you.” Farran repeated it firmly. “But there are some practical things to talk about. I’m only in London for so long. And I love Thebes. I don’t want what happened with Lucinda, where both of us were unhappy all the time.” Vega heard it, more than saw it in his face, that there was an ache there.
