Wintersong (Wintersong #1)(13)

My sister gave me one long, unreadable look, then nodded. Hans gently took Constanze’s hands as he and K?the led our grandmother away.

“And you, my dear, stay here; when I’m back, when I’m back, when I’m back again, back again, on your doorstep I’ll appear!” Papa leaned forward to plant a kiss on Mother’s lips, but she pushed him away.

“Master Antonius has been here these several hours past, and the man of the house nowhere to be seen! I could just—”

The rest of her tirade was lost in the sounds of a muffled kiss. Papa dropped his case to the floor, holding his wife close as he whispered beery blandishments in her ear.

“’Tho I can’t be with you all the time, my thoughts are with you, my dear,” he sang in a soft voice. “When I’m back, when I’m back, when I’m back again, back again, on your doorstep I’ll appear!”

I could see Mother’s body bending, growing pliant in Papa’s embrace, her protests more and more halfhearted as Papa plied her with a kiss, and another, and then another, before she broke at last with a laugh.

Papa grinned with triumph, but it was only a temporary victory. He had won a laugh from Mother, but by the look in her eyes, he would lose the war.

“Go clean yourself up,” Mother told him. “Master Antonius waits in the main hall.”

“You could join me,” Papa said, waggling his brows outrageously.

“Shoo,” she said, giving him a shove. Her cheeks were pink. “Go.”

Mother started when she caught sight of me in the shadows. “Liesl!” she said, smoothing her hands over her hair. “I didn’t think you were still here.”

I swept the last of the salt into the dustpan and tossed it into the fire. Even in the midst of my own family I was easily forgotten.

“Here, I’ll take that.” Mother took the broom and dustpan from my hands. “Heaven knows where else that old witch got to before we stopped her.” She shook her head. “Salt, pah.”

I shrugged, picked up a damp rag, and wiped down the countertops. “Constanze has her beliefs.” I was overcome by a sudden stab of misgiving. Salt was an old superstition, and I was not usually one to gainsay superstition, but I had just broken faith with my grandmother.

Mind how you choose.

“Well, she’s welcome to them on days when a famous violin master is not here,” Mother said. She nodded to the countertops. “Once you’re finished in here, go find your brother and make sure he’s ready for tonight.”

She left the kitchen, grumbling as she went. “Salt. Honestly.”

As I finished cleaning the kitchen, I tripped over something on the floor. Papa’s violin case. It lay open on the flagstones, empty of its instrument, but littered with a handful of silver Groschen in its place.

It seemed as though I was not the only one to pay a visit to Herr Kassl today.

I shut the case, took the money, and put both away in a safe place.

*

For a moment, I considered chasing after K?the instead of Josef. Ignoring Constanze’s warnings had unsettled me more than I cared to admit, and the guilt scratched at me from within. I frowned. There was something I could not remember, but the more I grasped at it, the more it slipped away. Then I shook my head. No, it was not a time for childish fancies. I set my concerns about my sister aside and went in search of my brother instead.

He was in none of the usual places: his bedroom, the footpaths in the woods, the Goblin Grove. Dusk was falling and Josef was nowhere to be found. I returned from the forest, tearing at my hair in frustration.

A hand reached out to grab my wrist as I made my way up the stairs. “Liesl.”

I jumped. It was Josef, hiding beneath the stairwell. All that was visible was the reflected shine of his eyes, a wolf’s in the dark.

“Sepperl!” I said. “What are you doing?”

I came down around the stairs and crouched before him. The shadows carved Josef’s face into hard planes and angles, sharp cheekbones and pointed chin.

“Liesl,” he said in anguished tones. “I can’t do this.”

Word of the old violin master’s arrival had spread like wildfire throughout the village. Josef would have an enormous audience for his audition tonight. I minded my brother’s fear of strangers.

“Oh, Sepp,” I said. Slowly, gently, as though I were coaxing a baby bird from its nest, I took my brother by the hand and led him down the hall to his room.

His quarters were in complete disarray. Josef’s clothes were strewn about, and someone—perhaps Papa—had brought down a trunk from the attic. His violin case lay open on the bed beside him, the instrument still nestled in its velvet lining. By the looks of it, he hadn’t played it all day.

“I can’t audition for Master Antonius, Liesl. I just can’t.”

I said nothing, only opened my arms to hug him close. My brother felt slight and frail in my arms. We were both small and bird-boned, but I was hale and full of life where my brother was delicate. As a babe he had been taken with scarlatina worse than either K?the or me, and he had been prone to fevers and agues ever since.

“I’m scared, Liesl,” he whispered.

“Shh,” I soothed, stroking his hair. “You’ll be marvelous.”

“It should be you, Liesl,” he said. “It should you before Master Antonius. Not me.”